The Rejected Luna Rises

The pack house stood like a monument of cold authority, cloaked by the dense forest around it. Daniel led the way, his steps brisk and unyielding, while I trailed behind, a silent shadow with a smile carefully painted on my face. Every step echoed louder than the last in my chest, where dread had made a home.

We entered through the front doors, and the grandeur of the Amethyst estate greeted us. The long dining table, laden with ornate dishes and flickering candlelight, gleamed in the center of the hall. Voices buzzed with laughter and casual chatter—until I arrived. Silence dropped like a curtain, brief and cutting. Then came the glances—some filled with poorly concealed amusement, others oozing disdain.

At the head of the table, my father raised his glass in a welcoming gesture, the curve of his mouth tight and practiced. I nodded politely, slipping into the seat beside Daniel.

Then I saw her.

Helen.

Glowing with smug satisfaction, her hands resting delicately on the roundness of her belly, now prominently showing. Four months along, and not missing a chance to flaunt it.

“Oh, Maurice,” she said, voice soaked in theatrical pity, one hand splayed across her stomach. “I can’t imagine how painful your recent… tragedy must be. Truly heartbreaking.”

She didn’t mean a word of it. Her eyes gleamed with triumph, and the others followed her lead. Laughter sparked across the table like wildfire. Masked behind false concern, their words dripped venom.

I mirrored their smiles. It had always been like this—they never cared to learn sign language, never thought it necessary to include me. I used to imitate their expressions to fit in. If only I had learned to read lips sooner, I might have known earlier just how deep the cruelty ran.

No matter.

They didn’t know I could hear them now.

“And it’s what? The tenth miscarriage?” someone murmured with a laugh. “At some point, you’d think she’d just accept she’s not Luna material.”

“She’s practically barren,” another added. “Daniel deserves a Luna who can give him heirs. He could fill the den with pups and she wouldn’t even notice.”

A burst of laughter followed.

“Honestly, she’s a blessing. No talking back, no noise. Like a pretty decoration. Deaf and docile.”

My fork scraped against my plate as I laughed with them. If they noticed the tension in my grip, they didn’t mention it.

After a while, I stood from my chair and gestured toward the hallway, pretending I needed to freshen up. Daniel barely glanced my way, too engrossed in his father-in-law’s words. Fine. I wanted space.

I walked down the corridor and slipped into the bathroom. The soft lighting gave everything a ghostly glow. I let the water run over my hands, watching droplets slide across my skin, trying to calm my racing thoughts.

Then the door creaked open.

Helen stepped in, closing it behind her. Her lips curled into that smile—the one that always looked too polite to be real.

“There you are,” she said lightly, as though we were old friends. “You’ve been so strong through all of this, really. I admire that.”

I nodded with the same empty smile I’d worn all evening.

“But you know,” she went on, voice softening, “it was always going to end this way. You were never meant to have a place beside Daniel.”

She stepped closer, her fingers tracing the curve of her own belly.

“I worried, you know? That you’d manage to carry a child before I could. But the universe is finally back on track, isn’t it?”

I kept my expression unchanged, letting her continue.

“I struggled, too,” she said with a false gentleness. “Until someone gave me a solution. A special kind of… nourishment. You know what I mean, don’t you?”

Something twisted deep in my gut. My wolf stirred uneasily, sensing danger.

Helen’s smile widened.

“Strong life force. Vital essence. That’s what they said your pups had.” Her voice was sweet, cruelly so. “And now? Mine thrives because of you.”

The air around me seemed to vanish.

“Your losses… well, they were tragic. But necessary. You gave me life, Maurice. You should be proud.”

She reached out and touched my shoulder, her grip delicate but filled with mockery.

And something inside me shattered.

Not loudly. Not in a scream or a burst of rage. It broke in quiet fury. My wolf, silent for too long, rose from the depths of my soul, her growl vibrating through every vein. The heat behind my eyes threatened to spill over, but I wouldn’t give Helen that satisfaction.

I smiled.

Not weakly. Not in surrender.

But with the promise of retribution.