The Luna's Goodbye

The pack's healers were in a frenzy, working through the night, trying to piece me back together with every mystical remedy they could muster. My body lay cold on the stone slab in the heart of the Silverfang Pack’s den, surrounded by herbs, enchanted crystals, and somber faces. Despite their efforts, I could still feel every slice, every break, even in this limbo between life and death. The scattered body parts around me? Let’s just say it wasn’t the kind of reunion I imagined.

Cyrus, the Alpha’s second, loomed over my remains with a grim expression. He jabbed a clawed finger toward my torso. “The head’s missing. Hands, too. And looks like they took a chunk from the ankle.”

Elias, my husband, stood by in icy silence, his eyes dark with thoughts he wasn’t sharing. I knew that look all too well—the one where he locked everything inside, building walls even I couldn’t see past. He seemed detached, distant, barely sparing my body a second glance. And why should he? I wasn't the woman he married anymore, not in the ways that mattered.

My mind wandered over that coldness, the space that had grown between us, widening with every decision, every war council like this one. I watched him now, standing with that rigid posture of his, arms crossed like he was keeping his own heart from breaking through. Was he disgusted? With me? With the situation? The questions twisted in my gut, settling like stones, heavy and unavoidable.

Or was he hiding something deeper?

I hated that I didn’t know. I hated that I couldn’t tell what was going on behind those unreadable eyes anymore. Once, I would’ve known exactly what he was thinking just by the way his hand rested at his side, the way his jaw tightened or loosened when he was anxious or on edge. But now… Now, I couldn’t even be sure if he still saw me. Really saw me.

I shifted slightly, but he didn’t move, didn’t react. Was it possible he resented me? Blamed me for everything that had happened? Or maybe it was something worse. Maybe, in that stillness of his, he was hiding some growing distance in his heart, something neither of us wanted to admit was there. A quiet chasm that had slowly spread between us over time, creeping in with every unspoken word, every night spent apart.

It wasn’t just physical, though, was it? No. It was more than that. More than the way he barely touched me anymore, the way his fingers felt cold when they brushed mine. It was in his silence, his detachment. The way he’d started looking through me instead of at me.

Had I become something to be endured? Something to be tolerated?

I swallowed hard, the knot in my throat tightening. I didn’t want to think about that. Not now, not here. But it was hard to ignore the questions that gnawed at the back of my mind. Why wasn’t he saying anything? Why didn’t he ask if I was alright? If I could handle this?

Or maybe… maybe he wasn’t asking because he already knew the answer.

Maybe he didn’t trust me anymore.

The thought sent a cold shiver down my spine. There was a time when Elias and I were partners, equals in every sense. When we didn’t need words to understand each other. When his silence wasn’t something that weighed between us, but a comfort. Now, though? Now it felt like a void. A vast, empty space where all the things we should be saying hung unsaid, heavy and thick in the air.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had broken between us, something vital. And I didn’t know how to fix it. Or if he even wanted to.

Finally, Elias spoke, his voice low. “So, who’s this poor soul?”

Cyrus shook his head, clearly frustrated. “We can’t tell. Not until the moonstone ritual reveals something. Or we get a missing pack member report. Whoever she is, she’s been erased.”

Elias nodded, his attention drifting elsewhere. He hadn’t really looked at me. Not yet. Maybe he was trying not to, but this mess? It had his claws all over it.

“I’ve been looking into the other attacks in the region,” he began, his voice cutting through the tension. “Seems like we’re dealing with something bigger than a rogue problem. This is organized. The same brutality’s been seen over in Bloodreach. Pack members being drained of their life force, dismembered, their remains left as warnings.”

Cyrus raised an eyebrow, the flicker of a growl rumbling in his chest. “Bloodreach, huh? You think we’re dealing with pack politics? Like some kind of turf war?”

Elias gave a sharp nod. “That’s what it looks like. Someone’s sending a message, marking their territory.”

Without hesitation, Cyrus barked out orders. “Alright, get in touch with the Bloodreach pack. If they’ve got intel, we need it.”

After the meeting, a young omega practically bounced alongside Elias, full of admiration. “Mr. Blackwood, you’ve got instincts like no other. It’s like you’re always five steps ahead.”

Elias barely acknowledged him, giving a stiff nod. He’d been used to that kind of admiration since we were pups, back when his sharp instincts made him the pride of the pack.

“Uh, Mr. Blackwood, sir?” The omega suddenly stopped him, reaching out to pluck a long, golden hair from Elias’s leather jacket.

The omega smirked. “Is the kyradoing alright? Seems like she left a little something behind.”

Elias’s eyes flashed, his tone colder than the winter wind. “That’s none of your concern.” He snatched the hair, shoving it into his pocket before storming off.

The young omega awkwardly shifted on his feet, rubbing the back of his neck as Elias disappeared down the stone corridors. If I could’ve, I would’ve patted him on the back for his nerve. But my hand, like everything else about me now, passed right through him.

If only he knew. That night I was killed, it wasn’t my hair Elias carried. Mine was short and dark—nothing like that golden strand. No, that belonged to Lena, his old flame and the one he’d chosen to warm his bed while I lay cold and forgotten.