Chapter 2

Before I can go through with the rejection, I have to play my part as the Iron Fang's Luna.

The next morning, I was in the herb room, calmly sorting my Moonglow Moss as usual.

I felt Damien's frantic energy long before he appeared. The anger from my refusal last night still simmered beneath his skin.

The dull ache of his curse was already seeping from his bones, making him restless and irritable.

"Elara," he began, and was it my imagination, or was there a flicker of guilt in his voice? "About last night—"

Before he could finish, Lyra appeared from behind him, barefoot.

My breath caught in my throat.

She was wearing the moon-white ceremonial robe—the one symbolizing the Luna's authority. The sacred garment I had worn on my coronation day. My wardrobe was filled with countless other clothes, but she had deliberately chosen this one.

"Luna," she purred, her use of my title dripping with disrespect. "I'm so sorry. My leathers were torn to shreds last night, so I had to borrow something of yours. You don't mind, do you?"

Her tone was pitiful, but her eyes glinted with triumph.

I gave her a single, dismissive glance.

"That robe suits you."

Since I had already decided to sever all ties, anything connected to Damien was something I would discard. What was a mere piece of clothing?

Seeing my lack of reaction, Lyra's expression stiffened.

Damien, however, stepped closer. He gave me a look of magnanimous patience, as if I were the one being unreasonable. "Don't read too much into this. Nothing happened between us last night. We were just… healing."

A bitter laugh threatened to escape me. I had to wonder what, exactly, this Alpha considered "happening."

If the soft moans and panting I'd heard, and the raw lust I'd felt through our bond didn't count, then perhaps only the act of marking Lyra as his own would?

The Alpha I once thought could hold up the sky was nothing but a hypocrite.

Damien let out a breath, apparently relieved, and sat down. Lyra immediately slid into the seat next to him, a clear declaration of her new place.

His hand, reaching for a teacup, paused for a fraction of a second, but he didn't ask her to move.

I acted as if I saw nothing and sat across from them.

Before we'd finished our tea, Damien spoke.

"Since you'll be focusing on my recovery, you no longer need to manage the pack's medical affairs."

His tone was casual, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. He was handing over the pack's very lifeline to a warrior whose only skill was patching up scrapes.

"I've decided to create the position of Chief Field Medic and appoint Lyra to it. The herb storehouses will be under her control from now on."

In my past life, his words would have made me flip the table.

This time, I just nodded.

"Fine."

He seemed pleased with my compliance.

After the meal, Damien said he had work to attend to and drove Lyra to the command center.

Previously, moments like these would have stung; I was his Luna, the one who was supposed to be by his side.

But now, there was nothing left for him in my heart but ash. How could I hold out hope for a man who had already led me to my death once?

I went to the archives alone.

Using moon-glow ink, I signed my name on the Mate Rejection Agreement I had prepared.

When I took the document to Damien's office and pushed open the door, I froze.

Damien was lying with his head in Lyra's lap while she gently massaged his temples with her slender fingers. They both looked utterly content.

The gesture was painfully familiar. It was how I always soothed him when the first signs of the curse appeared. Now, she was mimicking my every move, invading the last private space Damien and I had left.

And Damien… he was letting her, sinking into her touch as if it were his right. So this was how they "worked together."

They both started when they saw me enter.

In the next second, Lyra scrambled to her feet, her cheeks flushed. "Luna! Don't get the wrong idea! The Alpha had a headache, I was just trying to help…"

She stammered out an explanation, but a flash of victory shone in her eyes.

Damien slowly opened his, adjusted his collar, and fixed his icy gaze on me.

"This is the Alpha's command center, not your healing chamber. You don't enter without requesting permission."