By Shadowlight Lake

The Beta’s birthday celebration was the social event of the season in our pack, a grand affair that filled the packhouse with laughter, music, and the clinking of glasses. The packhouse itself was a masterpiece of rustic elegance, its wooden beams adorned with twinkling fairy lights, and the scent of fresh pine mingled with the rich aroma of roasted meat and spiced cider. Tonight was supposed to be special. I had spent hours perfecting every detail—my hair styled into soft curls, my favorite emerald dress hugging my curves, and just the right amount of makeup to highlight my features. I’d hoped to feel beautiful, confident, and, for once, seen.

But deep down, a hollow ache gnawed at me—a hope that tonight might bring a change in my life, even if I couldn’t name what that change should be. Instead, fate would deliver a cruel twist that would forever alter my path.

“Astraia,” Tiffany’s voice broke through my thoughts, dripping with false sweetness.

I clenched my fists, forcing a tight smile. “Thank you, Tiffany. That’s very kind of you.”

Her laugh was sharp, cruel. “I was just talking to Grant about the decorations. Did you know he chose the color scheme? Isn’t that adorable? We make such a good team.”

The mention of Grant’s name made my stomach twist. Tiffany had always flaunted their relationship, but tonight, her words felt like barbs aimed directly at me. I had no idea why, but her usual taunts stung more than ever.

“I’m sure you do,” I replied, keeping my voice even. “He’s lucky to have someone so… involved.”

Her smirk widened, her voice dripping with a false sweetness that grated against my skin.

My wolf bristled at her words, an instinctive surge of protectiveness rising within me. But why? Grant wasn’t mine… not in any way that mattered. I forced a breath, willing the tension in my body to ease.

“Excuse me,” I said, stepping past her before I said something I’d regret. Her laughter followed me, light and mocking, as I disappeared into the crowd.

The night pressed on, the music swelling as couples took to the dance floor. I kept to the edges of the room, watching from a distance as Grant made his rounds, his presence commanding attention wherever he went. He looked every bit the future Alpha, his dark hair perfectly styled, his tailored suit highlighting his broad shoulders. He was magnetic, and yet, I couldn’t help but notice the way Tiffany clung to him, her laugh too loud, her touch too possessive.

It was nearing midnight when it happened—the moment that would shatter the careful balance of my world. I was standing by the refreshment table, sipping on a glass of sparkling cider, when I felt it. An electric jolt that started in my chest and spread through every fiber of my being. My wolf stirred, her presence surging forward with a single, powerful word: Mate.

The glass slipped from my fingers, shattering on the floor as my eyes darted across the room. And there he was. Grant. His gaze locked onto mine, his expression flickering with something unreadable. Recognition.

For a brief, shining moment, I felt hope bloom in my chest. This was it. This was the bond the Moon Goddess had destined for us. I took a tentative step forward, the pull between us undeniable. But before I could reach him, his face darkened, and he turned sharply, heading for the doors that led to the garden.

Confused and hurt, I followed him, the cool night air brushing against my skin as I stepped outside. The garden was quiet, the sounds of the party muted behind us. He stood by the fountain, his back to me, his posture rigid.

“Grant,” I called softly, my voice trembling.

He turned slowly, his expression hard, cold, unreadable. “Astraia,” he said, his tone flat, almost rehearsed. “We need to talk.”

A low growl echoed in the night air, and I felt the hairs on the back of my neck rise. My heart beat erratically, a sharp contrast to the stillness of the garden around me. For a moment, everything seemed to slow—each breath I took, each pulse of the bond—until there was only Grant and me, standing in a silence so thick it choked the very air between us.

I stepped closer, my pulse quickening as the bond surged again, stronger now, louder. My wolf stirred restlessly within me, eager to close the distance, to claim him. The Moon Goddess had designed us for this, hadn’t she? We were meant to be together, to lead together. Was this the test, the challenge, that we were to overcome? Or was this the moment when everything I thought I knew about my future shattered like glass?

“Grant,” I said, my voice barely more than a whisper. My hands trembled as I reached out, almost touching his arm. He didn’t flinch, but his gaze, cold and distant, hardened. I could feel it—the pull, the undeniable connection that had ignited between us when I first laid eyes on him tonight. The bond was real, deep and binding, and yet…

He took a step back, and my heart skipped. His eyes flicked away, avoiding mine as though he feared what he might see in them. Fear? Regret? Could it be that even now, after everything, he could feel the depth of what we shared?

The air felt heavier with every passing second, thick with unsaid words and raw emotions. The garden, once peaceful and tranquil, now felt like a prison, its beauty mocking the ache spreading through me.

“I felt it, Astraia,” Grant finally said, his voice cold and distant, as though he were speaking to a stranger. “I felt it when you—when you looked at me. That bond. That connection.”

I could hardly breathe. “You felt it?” My voice cracked as hope surged in my chest, a fleeting spark that perhaps, just perhaps, there was still a chance for us. Maybe he wasn’t so sure of this rejection.

His lips twisted into a tight, humorless smile. “Of course, I felt it. But it doesn’t matter.”

His words hit me like a slap, cold and unforgiving. I staggered back, my breath catching in my throat. “What do you mean it doesn’t matter?” My voice shook, my heart tearing in two at the sudden, inexplicable coldness that flowed from him. “Grant… we’re mates. We’re meant to be. The Moon Goddess—”

He interrupted me with a sharp, almost mocking laugh. “The Moon Goddess doesn’t know what’s best for me. I don’t need some mystical bond to tell me who I should be with, Astraia. What I need is someone who can stand by me as Luna of Rivermoon Pack. Someone who understands what it takes to lead, to carry the weight of the pack with grace and power.”

The words sliced through me like a dagger, each one a brutal confirmation of the truth I didn’t want to accept. Tiffany. She was the one he wanted, the one who would stand beside him, not me.

“Tiffany?” I whispered, the name tasting like acid on my tongue. “You’re choosing her over me?”

He met my gaze then, and in his eyes, there was no hesitation, no flicker of doubt. Only cold resolve. “She’s everything I need, Astraia. You’re not. You’re… you’re too… soft. You can’t lead. You don’t have the strength it takes. Tiffany is the future Luna. Not you.”

The words echoed in my mind like a cruel, bitter chant. You’re not enough. You’re not strong enough. You’re not what I need. The words were poison, every syllable a reminder of my inadequacy, of my failure to be what he wanted.

I stumbled backward, my knees buckling as though the very earth beneath me had turned to dust. My wolf howled in agony, her cries echoing in my mind, but there was no comfort. No solace. Just the pain of rejection, raw and suffocating.

“You… you can’t do this,” I managed, my voice barely above a breath. “You can’t throw this away. The bond—the connection between us—it’s real, Grant. We were meant to be together. I felt it. I felt it in my bones, in every part of me.”

His eyes softened for a split second, but only for a moment. Then, they hardened again, and he looked away. “I don’t need your bond, Astraia. I need a partner who can help me lead this pack. Tiffany understands that. She’s powerful. She has the drive, the ambition. You don’t.”

I closed my eyes, the sting of his rejection like a thousand needles piercing my chest. “So, this is it? You’re just going to throw me away like nothing?”

Grant’s gaze was cold now, his words final, as though the decision had been made long before this moment. “I, soon-to-be Alpha of Rivermoon Pack, reject you, Astraia. As my mate. As my Luna.” His voice was steady, unwavering, but it carried with it an underlying sorrow, a sadness that mirrored my own pain, though I was sure it was only there because he was regretting the cruelty of his words, not the choice itself.

The air around me seemed to shift. My wolf whimpered, a heart-wrenching sound that ripped through me. I couldn’t breathe. The bond, the thread that had once tied us together so strongly, was snapped in an instant, leaving me empty, hollow, my heart an aching void.

“No,” I gasped, my voice raw and desperate. “Grant, please…”

But he didn’t look at me again. He turned his back to me, walking away with purposeful strides. Every step was like a nail in my coffin. I reached out, but the distance between us grew with every agonizing moment.

I sank to my knees, the cold stone of the fountain beneath my hands grounding me as the world around me fell apart. The packhouse, the party, the laughter and music—they all seemed so distant now. A cruel reminder of the life I’d thought I would have. Of the future I had once believed in.

The tears came then, unstoppable. Hot and salty, they streaked down my face, mingling with the dirt beneath me. I had nothing. No mate. No future. No place at his side. Tiffany had won, and I… I had lost everything.

The night pressed in on me, suffocating, until I couldn’t stand it any longer. I pushed myself to my feet, my legs unsteady, my heart too heavy to bear. But I would not break. I would not be weak. Not for him. Not for her.

I wiped my tears, the bitterness of rejection still lingering on my tongue. No matter what Grant thought, I would rebuild. I would find my own strength, my own path. I didn’t need his approval, and I certainly didn’t need Tiffany to tell me who I was.

The Moon Goddess had given me a gift—one I would not squander. She had made me strong, and I would find that strength again. I would rise from this, no matter how deep the wound.

With one last glance at the retreating figure of the man I had once thought was my future, I turned and walked away from the garden, the cold air biting at my skin, but not enough to break the fire that had started to stir inside me.

I would not let this be the end. Not yet. Not ever.