The Luna He Let Go

Selene Rayne - POV

⸻

They called me Luna, but never like they meant it.

In the pack of Nightfall Ridge, the title was nothing more than a scar they etched into me with cold stares, dismissive glances, and whispered accusations. I bore it in silence. After all, I had been chosen. Fate had marked me as the mate of Alpha Darius Blackthorn - feared by many, revered by all.

But no one dared revere me.

Not when I was too quiet. Not when I had no warrior blood. Not when my wolf, Astraea, remained painfully dormant.

I had spent two years in this hollow palace of stone and dominance, sleeping beside a man who never truly looked at me. His rejection didn't come with violence, only indifference - but that was its own cruelty. Worse, he never formally severed the bond. I was his Luna in title, yes... but not in soul.

He refused to mark me.

He refused to claim me.

And the pack followed his lead.

"You should smile more, Luna," one of the warriors sneered one morning as I brought a tray of tea to the council chambers. "You're making the room cold."

I said nothing. I was good at that.

I wasn't brought here to lead. I was brought here to exist quietly in his shadow.

I did not flinch when Darius walked past me without a word. I did not wince when his Beta called me "girl" instead of my name. And I did not cry when I overheard the omegas placing bets on whether he'd ever mark me.

But I felt it all.

Every day.

Like frostbite working its way through the skin.

⸻

Then, it happened.

The final fracture.

We were in the Great Hall, the fire burning low, shadows dancing against the stone. Darius had summoned me - rare enough on its own. I'd hoped, stupidly, that maybe tonight would be different. Maybe he would see me.

Instead, he spoke the words I had feared since the bond had first snapped into place.

"I reject you, Selene Rayne. As my mate and as my Luna."

No warning. No reason. No mercy.

The bond cracked inside me like a whip. Astraea howled in pain for the first time in months. I gasped, clutching my chest as if I could hold the pieces together.

"You can't-" I choked.

"I just did."

He turned, emotionless, and walked away.

And not a single soul in that room stopped him.

I don't remember leaving the hall. I don't remember packing. I only remember the snow - thick, unrelenting - as I wandered through the forest, the last of the pack border shrinking behind me like a wound closing over.

I wandered without a destination, the chill of despair settling deep within my bones. No allies to guide me, no dignity left to cling to.

Just a wolf, wounded and silent, thrumming in my chest.

Just a heart that had yet to grasp the full weight of its fracture.

Three days later, I collapsed at the edge of an unfamiliar territory, feverish and barefoot, my mind foggy and desperate. The world swirled around me as I succumbed to the exhaustion that beckoned me toward the end.

Instead, fate intervened.

Or perhaps it was him who found me.

Strong hands, warm and unwavering, lifted me from the snow's cold embrace. A voice-deep, smooth, and reassuring-murmured something just beyond my comprehension. His scent enveloped me, a grounding mixture of cedarwood and smoke, wrapping my senses in a soothing calm.

Then, darkness reclaimed me.

When I awoke, warmth cradled my body.

I blinked against the soft, golden light streaming through a quaint cabin window. Each movement prompted a delightful ache throughout my body. My lips felt cracked and parched, but I was... alive.