Luna No More

For years, I loved the Alpha who saved me, convinced our bond was written by fate.

But on the eve of my twentieth birthday, I heard him promise another woman—

“A half-blood doesn’t deserve to be my Luna.”

So the half-blood he’d once pitied returned to the human world.

And that would be the first step in how the bond would destroy him.

……

……

When the oven chimed, I was smoothing the last layer of frosting.

Today was my twentieth birthday.

The day he’d promised me.

Four years ago, I fought with my mother and ran into the forest. That same night, I nearly died under the claws of rogue wolves.

They belonged to no pack, bound by no rules—there was only prey in their eyes. They drove me to the riverbank; gravel slid beneath my feet, and their rancid, hot breath slapped my face.

But in that instant, Abbott appeared.

He burst from the trees and clamped a hand around a rogue wolf’s throat. The crisp crack of breaking bone made my stomach heave. Silver moonlight fell across his shoulders and back—like a mountain that would never collapse.

Later I learned it wasn’t unusual for an Alpha to save prey.

But a girl doesn’t easily forget the hero who saved her.

I followed him, leaving my mother behind and stepping alone into his pack. At parting, my mother hugged me once, her voice very soft. “Remember this: a wolf pack’s promises are often thinner than moonlight.”

I didn’t believe her then.

I believed Abbott.

I treated that night as proof of fate. I took every brief pause when he passed me as favoritism, every cloak he tossed my way as approval.

I could feel the bond and thrill my wolf carried whenever she saw him.

And at seventeen, when he pressed a hand to my forehead and murmured that sentence—

“Wait until you’re twenty. Savvy—when you are, everything will be different.”

Different.

Back then, I heard it as the future.

So I waited for today.

The day before my twentieth birthday.

I set the cake into its box and tied a deep navy ribbon around it.

Wind threaded through the valley, carrying pine needles and the tang of blood. The territory was bright with lights. Patrol wolves passed me; when their gazes swept over me, there was neither hostility nor warmth—

I was still “that half-blood.”

I told myself it didn’t matter.

Abbott would keep his promise.

I even pictured tomorrow: maybe he’d bring me before everyone; maybe he’d announce I truly belonged to this pack; maybe—

maybe he’d say that word. Luna.

I smiled a little, aware it was childish, and still I quickened my step.

The council hall door was ajar.

Inside, the brazier burned high; the pop of splitting wood sounded like bones snapping. I was about to knock when I heard Abbott’s voice—

low, calm, carrying that familiar sense of control, and yet so strange it felt like I was hearing him for the first time.

“Then announce the engagement. Hold the marking ceremony next week.”

In the darkness, I blinked slowly.

What?

Whose wedding?

An older voice said, “The alliance benefits us. She’s a good fit for Luna. Clean bloodline—our people will accept her. Her family’s already agreed to send troops to reinforce the border.”

Another voice added, “You just need to do it neatly—deal with the half-blood.”

“She won’t make trouble,” Abbott said flatly. “She’s obedient.”

The cake box in my arms suddenly felt absurdly heavy.

Someone chuckled—female, soft and sharp. “Obedient doesn’t mean she’ll leave. She’ll think she still has hope.”

Roberta.

I knew her—the female Alpha, pure-blooded, the kind who looked born to stand at the center of any room. She never needed to speak; the pack would place a crown on her head all on its own.

Abbott didn’t answer right away.

She went on. “Tell her I’m pregnant with your child. That’s the most effective. She wasn’t raised in the pack—she doesn’t fully grasp what an heir means—but she understands shame.”

I heard an elder hum in agreement.

Then Abbott spoke, as if finally letting a thought slip out, a faintly impatient smile in his voice.

“Then do it. Anyway…”

“A low-class half-blood,” he said, his tone calm to the point of cruelty, “has no right to be my Luna.”

The world went terrifyingly quiet.

I heard my breath strike my throat like shattered glass. The sweet vanilla from the kitchen still clung to my sleeves, but now it felt like rotting syrup—gluing itself in my throat until I couldn’t make a sound.

Inside, they kept talking.

“Will she leave?”

“She will,” Abbott said. “She doesn’t have a choice.”

In the dark, I smiled soundlessly.

So in his eyes, I had no choice.

And yet the one thing I’ve always been best at is making choices.

Four years ago, I chose to leave the human world. Now, I could choose to leave him.

I turned away.

The wind on the territory was colder, stinging my eyes. I all but ran back to my room and pulled an old phone from the drawer.

Then I dialed a number I hadn’t called first in four years.

She answered quickly, as if she’d been waiting.

“Savy?”

My throat tightened. I forced the tremor down. “Mom. I want to come back.”

Silence held on the line for a beat.

My mother didn’t ask questions. She only let out a slow breath.

“First light on the first day next week,” she said. “I’ll wait for you at the edge of the city.” She paused, then added softly, “Don’t look back, Savvy.”

“I won’t.”

After I hung up, the room was terrifyingly quiet.

The next second, that familiar pressure forced its way into my mind—Abbott’s voice thundered from deep inside the pack link, calm, authoritative, unquestionable.

—“Everyone. Tomorrow night. The banquet hall. I will be betrothed to Roberta.”

In that moment, something in my chest felt like a thread being gently torn—dull pain for an instant, then emptiness.

—Only my breathing remained.

This was the first step back into the human world.