Luna

I woke up earlier than expected. It turns out, being the forced Luna of the Storm Pack comes with many responsibilities—none of which I agreed to.

"She came back."

"Did she even have a choice?"

"He rejected her once. Why take her now?"

The words slither beneath my skin, but I keep walking. The halls of the Storm Packhouse are endless. Towering walls, vaulted ceilings, cold marble that swallows every footstep. A fortress. A prison. It wasn’t built for comfort. It was built to intimidate. To remind outsiders they don’t belong. And even though I wear Killian’s mark now, I feel no different.

Omegas slip past me, heads lowered, movements quick. Guards linger at every entrance, silent, watching. Their presence is suffocating. They don’t speak to me. They don’t meet my gaze. They serve me. But they don’t respect me.

Because why should they?

I am not their Luna. I am the discarded mate Killian dragged back. I keep walking. Because stopping means feeling. And feeling means breaking. The whispers follow me down the halls, clinging to my skin like a sickness. They don’t stop. They don’t fade.

"She doesn’t belong here."

"She’s not fit to be our Luna."

"How long before he throws her away again?"

I clench my fists. I should be used to this. The judgment. The humiliation. But it still burns. I keep my chin up. Pretending. Because I’ve already played this role before—the rejected mate, the outcast.

But what am I now?

A prisoner? A wife? A Luna in name only?

I don’t know.

And I don’t have time to figure it out—because then I hear her.

"Mija~"

The sound stops me in my tracks. My breath catches. It’s been two years. But I know that voice. I turn, slowly, cautiously, like I’m afraid she’ll vanish if I look too fast.

Killian’s mother.

Selene Storm stands at the end of the hall, regal as ever. Silver hair twisted into an elegant knot, piercing dark eyes, and the kind of grace that makes even the strongest wolves lower their heads.

She was always breathtaking. Always unshakable. But right now? Right now, she looks like she’s seen a ghost. Her lips part, and she takes a single step forward—hesitant, unsure. Like she doesn’t know what to say. Like she doesn’t know who I am anymore.

Neither do I.

"Mija…" she says again, softer this time.

A name she used to call me when I was still hers. Before I became nothing. I swallow hard, my throat tight. Do I bow? Do I run? Do I pretend I don’t care? But I don’t get the chance to decide—because suddenly, she’s in front of me, reaching out.

And before I can stop myself—I flinch. Her hand is still in midair. Hurt flickers through her expression.

"You think I would strike you?" she murmurs.

No. But I don’t say it. Because after everything, after Killian’s rejection, the whispers, the humiliation, the two years I spent running from the name Storm—

I don’t know who to trust anymore.

Her eyes scan my face, taking in the exhaustion, the weight pressing down on my shoulders. Then, gently—like she’s trying not to startle a wounded animal—she touches my cheek.

"You’ve lost weight," she whispers. "They didn’t take care of you?"

I don’t answer.

Because how do I explain the past two years? How do I tell her that I fought for my life, that I slept on dirt floors, that I had to forget how to dream just to survive?

She exhales sharply. Like she already knows. Her hand drops. Her gaze hardens.

"Did he force you into this?"

My breath stutters. She doesn’t say his name. But we both know who she means.

Did he force me?

Yes.

But no.

Because I said the words. I stood at that altar. I put the ring on my finger. I could have fought harder. I could have screamed. I could have… I could have died before I let him win.

But I didn’t.

Selene doesn’t wait for my answer. She already sees the truth in my silence. And her next words? They aren’t soft.

"He had no right to take you back."

Something inside me cracks. Because for the first time since I returned, someone said it.

Selene’s hand brushes my wrist—light, hesitant. Then, with a sigh, she shakes her head.

"You need rest," she says. "Have you eaten?"

My stomach churns. "I—"

But then—the moment is shattered.

A voice. Low. Unmistakable.

"You’re up early, Celestine."

A slow shiver slithers down my spine. I turned around, praying to moon goddess to not see a monster for this day but hey, she hates me. She made sure of that. 

"I hope you’re not filling my wife’s head with ideas, Mother."

Killian Storm is walking in our direction. I took time, memorizing how I can carve wounds into his annoying face. 

Selene exhales sharply, masking her anger beneath icy composure.

"You don’t own her, Killian."

Killian chuckles, low and slow. "No?" he muses, his gaze locking onto mine. “ I’m pretty sure I just marked her mine yesterday.”

“Killian! You did what?” Her mother’s expression became worried. I was touched when she put me behind her back as if protecting me from his evil son. Even before, she was always like this. “ Please don’t tell me you marked her while me and your father are away!”

Killian smirks. "Why do you sound so surprised? I thought you needed me to have a Luna?”

Selene’s lips part like she wants to speak, but she hesitates. For a second, I think she’ll defend me. That she’ll stand her ground, that she’ll be the only person in this gods-forsaken pack who still gives a damn about me.

But then—

She exhales.

The fight leaves her shoulders in a slow, controlled sigh.

And she lets me go.

Disappointment curls in my chest like something rotten. Killian moves then. Not toward me. Toward her.

If this were any other moment, any other life, I might have thought it was sweet—the way he leans in, the way his lips brush his mother’s forehead.

A son showing respect.

A man showing love.

But Killian isn’t that kind of man.

And this isn’t love.

It’s a warning.

"Go," he says simply. "Father is looking for you."

Selene hesitates—just for a second. Then, before I can process it, she turns and pulls me into an embrace. Her fingers brush the back of my head. A whisper-soft sigh leaves her lips, barely audible. “ Be patient with my son, Celestine.”

And before I can ask why—

She lets me go.

I don’t realize I’ve been staring at her walking away until Killian moves. I force my spine straight. I won’t let him see how deep he’s buried under my skin. " You know, you are so bossy even with your mother.”

His smirk widens. “ I am not. My father is really looking for her.”

I clench my jaw, my pulse hammering. “I don’t see why you’re so amused. Your mother seems furious that you marked me without their knowledge.”

Killian hums, as if considering that. Then—he shrugs.

"She’ll get over it."

I scoff. "You mean she’ll forgive you."

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, his fingers reach out—so fast, so unexpected, I don’t have time to flinch.

He tugs my collar lower.

A slow, deliberate movement.

Exposing his mark.

I shudder as the cool air kisses the raw, aching skin of my neck. I feel him before I even realize what he’s doing. The warmth of his fingers. The slow, grazing brush of his knuckle.

" You should be thanking me,” he murmurs, eyes locked onto the mark he left. His claim.

"Let go of me."

He does.

But not before letting his fingers trail just a little longer than necessary, his smirk deepening at the way my breath catches.

I laugh. A short, bitter sound. "For what? Stealing my life? Dragging me back like I’m some possession you misplaced?"

Killian tilts his head slightly, his gaze flicking over my face. “ For being my Luna. Come. Are you done roaming around? I want to show your something.”

“What?” My voice is sharp, suspicious. “Where are you taking me?”

“We’re going to the training center.”

My stomach twists. “What?”

Killian’s grip tightens just slightly before he possessively wraps his hands on my shoulder. “I remember you used to love training,” he muses, dragging me down the hall. " I think you will like what I did there.”