The Rise of a Betrayed Luna

The day I was finally allowed to get out of bed felt like a bittersweet victory. My wounds had healed enough for me to stand and move, but the scars left behind—both physical and emotional—were impossible to ignore. Every step reminded me of the betrayal, every breath weighed heavy with the memories of what I’d lost.

I stood by the window of my small infirmary room, watching the pack go about their lives. From here, I could see Derek ’s house, the same house I had once shared with him. Now it felt like a monument to my misery, especially knowing who spent her nights there.

My thoughts spiraled as I contemplated leaving. Could I really do it? Leave everything behind? A part of me still clung to the hope that Derek would realize his mistake, but that part was dwindling by the second.

A knock at the door startled me from my thoughts. I turned, expecting the doctor or maybe even an elder, but it was Derek.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. He stood in the doorway, his face unreadable, though his posture was stiff. My heart clenched at the sight of him, a mixture of anger, sadness, and longing swirling within me.

“Leila,” he said finally, his voice low.

I folded my arms, refusing to let him see the pain his presence caused me. “What do you want?”

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him, but he didn’t come any closer. “The elders and the doctors... they insisted I come see you.”

I couldn’t hold back a bitter laugh. “Oh, so this isn’t out of concern for me? You’re just here to appease them?”

His jaw tightened, and he looked away, guilt flashing across his face. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Isn’t it?” I snapped, my voice rising. “You haven’t cared about me for months, Derek. I almost died, and where were you? With her.”

His shoulders tensed, and for a moment, I thought he might argue. But instead, he let out a sigh, his gaze fixed on the floor. “I’m sorry,” he muttered.

The words felt hollow, insincere. They didn’t carry the weight of remorse I so desperately wanted to hear.

“You’re sorry?” I repeated, my voice trembling. “That’s all you have to say? Derek , you were supposed to be my mate, my partner. You promised to protect me, and you failed. Not just once, but over and over again.”

He flinched at my words, but instead of apologizing further, he said nothing. The silence stretched between us, suffocating and unbearable.

Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. “Why are you even here, Derek? Why bother pretending to care?”

“I do care,” he said, his voice defensive.

“No, you don’t!” I shouted, tears streaming down my face. “You care about her. You’ve made that perfectly clear. So go back to Vivienne. She’s all you’ve ever wanted anyway.”

His head snapped up at that, his expression hardening. “If only you could be more like Vivienne,” he muttered, the words cutting through me like a blade.

I froze, disbelief washing over me. “What did you just say?”

His eyes widened slightly, as if realizing too late the weight of his words. But he didn’t take them back. Instead, he turned away, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Yes, you did,” I whispered, my voice shaking. “And you know what? You’re right. I’ll never be like her. And thank the Moon Goddess for that.”

I took a step back, my body trembling with anger and heartbreak. “Get out, Derek . I don’t want to see you anymore. Just leave me alone.”

“Leila —”

“No!” I interrupted, my voice firm despite the tears still falling. “You made your choice, Derek. You chose her. So go. Be with Vivienne. But don’t you dare come back here pretending to care about me.”

He hesitated, his guilt evident, but ultimately, he said nothing. He turned and left, the door closing behind him with a finality that echoed in my chest.

As soon as he was gone, I collapsed onto the bed, sobs wracking my body. His words replayed in my mind, each one a dagger to my heart.

In amidst the pain, a new resolve took root. This was it. The last straw. Derek had proven once and for all that I meant nothing to him.

I would leave. And this time, nothing—not his guilt, not the pack, and certainly not Vivienne —would stop me.