Wearing My Sister's Crown

“Lucas throws tantrums, and now you too?”

Marcus’s voice was a low growl, his frustration crackling like static in the air. His golden eyes gleamed with irritation under the pale moonlight filtering through the packhouse window.

“He’s just a pup, Brianna. But you? You’re an adult. Why can’t you try to understand him? He’ll get it one day, once his wolf matures.”

I stared at him, my pulse echoing in my ears louder than the ticking of the clock. The air in the room was heavy with the lingering scent of cedarwood and tension.

“I’m tired, Marcus,” I said quietly, rubbing my temple. “I’m tired from working the border shift all day, from covering for your absence, from holding together a pack that barely sees me. Stop adding to the weight on my back. I don’t have the energy to deal with you too.”

What I wanted to say was simpler than that.

I don’t need you to fix anything, Marcus. I just need you to listen.

But to Marcus, everything I said came out like a complaint.

His jaw tightened. The heat in his eyes cooled. The flicker of desire he once had for me vanished in a blink.

“I’ve got patrol reports to finish,” he muttered, stepping away. Then, coldly, “I’m not sleeping with you tonight.”

The door slammed behind him.

I didn’t even bother counting how many times he’d left like that when I was too emotional, too human, too not her. At this point, I was just a convenience. A she-wolf with no rank, no real claim to the Alpha’s heart. Present when he wanted warmth and forgotten when he didn’t.

But tonight, something inside me broke quietly.

I spent hours at the wooden kitchen table, hunched over the broken pieces of my mother’s bracelet, a jade heirloom passed through generations of women in our bloodline. Jade doesn’t mend easily. But I tried anyway, with trembling fingers, cheap superglue, and an old prayer whispered to the Moon Goddess.

By the time I looked outside, dawn had broken.

A message blinked on my phone. It was from Elder Saska.

‘Come by the cottage. We need to talk.’

Elder Saska sat waiting when I arrived, wrapped in a shawl that smelled faintly of sage and smoke. The elder’s eyes were sharp despite the weariness in her voice.

“I heard what happened,” she said softly. “Lucas’s like his father — stubborn, untamed, painfully proud. But you raised him, Brianna. There must be a part of him that still remembers the she-wolf who kissed his scraped knees and sang lullabies during storms.”

I kept quiet.

“Are you ready to walk away from the pack you helped hold together? From the boy, you raised like your own? From the mate bond, even if it’s one-sided?”

I didn’t answer. Could you still call it a family when the love was gone? When every howl from Lucas’s throat was filled with hate? When every gaze from Marcus was filled with longing for a ghost?

My sister Kaela had been the Luna. Marcus’s fated mate. The kind of bond legends are built around. They’d grown up together, howling under the same moons, running through the wild pines side by side. But then came the rogue attack, and with it, her death. Five years ago, Kaela’s light was snuffed out in one night. And with her went half of Marcus’s soul.

He became hollow. Distant. Barely Alpha.

Elder Saska had come to me with desperation in her eyes and grief still fresh in her heart.

“Help us, help the pack,” she’d said. “Raise the boy. Be Luna. Heal what’s broken.”

And like a fool, I tried.

Five years of sacrifice. I gave everything — my heart, my wolf, my pride. I raised Lucas like he was my own blood. I stayed even when Marcus couldn’t look at me without seeing her shadow. I endured the whispers, the gossip, the subtle rejection of a pack that never truly accepted me.

But I was never Luna. I was just... temporary.

Even Lucas hated me. With every cruel word whispered to him by pack members loyal to Kaela’s memory, he grew colder. Colder until even my cooking, a language we once shared, meant nothing.

Eventually, Elder Saska stopped trying to convince me to stay. Instead, she slid divorce papers across the table.

“When you sign, you’re free,” she said.

And for the first time in years, I felt... relief.

I signed.

When I got home, the forest was already dark. I tried the door, but the lock had been changed. Confused, I knocked softly, hoping for a mistake.

Then Lucas opened the door, his young face twisted with disgust. “Oh. Look who finally decided to come back. Why didn’t you just drop dead somewhere? Would’ve saved us the trouble.”

My stomach twisted.

He was angry that I hadn't cooked today. The boy had a sensitive gut and only trusted my cooking. I’d once taken culinary classes just to make meals that wouldn’t upset his stomach. He used to say,

“Mommy, you’re the best chef in the world. I wanna eat your food forever.”

Now he looked at me like I was the enemy.

Thunder cracked. Rain poured down. I stood soaked, shivering on the porch.

“Lucas,” I whispered, “can I please come inside? I’ll get sick out here.”

He sneered. “So? You wanted to leave so bad, go ahead. Stay out.”

Then I heard her voice.

“Lucas, who are you talking to?”

Ava Blackthorn stepped into view — all curves, perfume, and poison. She draped her arms around Lucas like she owned him, like she belonged.

When she saw me, she smirked. “Oh, it’s you.”

She tilted her head, mock sympathy dripping from her voice. “Sorry, sweetheart. Marcus's spending the night with me tonight. Guess you’ll have to howl at the moon alone.”

She turned, her heels clicking like a countdown to the end of everything.

“Come on, Lucas. Dinner’s ready. Your dad’s waiting.”

Lucas smiled up at her. “Yay! You’re the best, Aunt Ava!”

As they vanished into the warmth of the house, the door slammed shut once more.

And just like that, I was outside.

Alone.