Chapter 4

Skye 

I want to believe Noah. God, I want to believe that some part of Jaxon actually cares. But I've spent three years reading meaning into empty gestures, and I can't do it anymore.

"The elders won't let him cast you aside," Noah continues. "You've earned their respect. More than that—you've earned their loyalty. They won't support him stripping your title just because his ex-girlfriend came back with a convenient sob story."

His words spark something in me—a tiny flame of hope that I immediately try to smother. Because hope is what got me into this mess. Hope that Jaxon would see me. Love me. Choose me.

"You really think they'd stand with me?" I ask quietly.

"I know they would." Noah's voice is fierce now, protective in a way that reminds me of the boy who used to defend me from pack bullies. "And I'll stand with you too, Skye. I should have been a better friend these past few years. I let the distance between us grow because it was easier than watching you hurt yourself trying to please someone who couldn't see what he had."

The kindness in his words threatens to undo me all over again. "Noah—"

"I mean it. Whatever you need, whatever you decide to do—I'm on your side. Not Jaxon's. Not the pack's. Yours."

Something in my chest cracks open. It's been so long since someone chose me first. Since someone saw me as more than just the Luna, or Jaxon's reluctant mate, or Cassandra's inferior replacement.

"Thank you," I whisper.

We sit in silence for a while, watching the sun sink lower. Somewhere down there, Jaxon is probably planning his next move. And I'm up here, trying to figure out how to survive what comes next.

"You should come back," Noah says eventually. "Face this head-on. Show them you're not running scared."

He's right. I know he's right. The old Skye—the one who accepted everything without question—would already be on her way back, ready to apologize for making a scene.

But that Skye got her heart broken today.

That Skye discovered she's pregnant with a child her husband might not even want, now that he has a ready-made heir.

That Skye watched her husband hold her sister and realized she'd been living a lie.

"They'll expect me at dinner," I say, more to myself than to Noah. "And at the meeting. Jaxon will want me presentable and compliant, ready to stand beside him while he announces his bastard son to the pack."

"Skye—"

"He thinks I'll stay." The realization settles over me like a shroud. "He thinks I'll be so desperate to keep my title, so afraid of losing my place in the pack, that I'll accept whatever scraps he offers. A Luna in name only, while he builds a real family with Cassandra."

"You don't have to accept anything you don't want," Noah says carefully. "You have power here, Skye. More than you realize. The pack loves you. The elders respect you. Even if Jaxon can't see your worth, everyone else can."

His words should comfort me. And maybe a week ago, they would have. A week ago, keeping my title and my place in the pack would have been enough.

But that was before I felt the flutter of new life inside me. Before I realized that staying means raising my child in the shadow of Jaxon's son with Cassandra. Before I understood that I have something worth protecting now—something more important than a title or a bond or a marriage that was broken from the start.

Noah's watching me, waiting for a response. Waiting for me to agree to go back and fight for what's mine.

But what if it's not mine anymore?

What if it never was?

What if the real question isn't whether Jaxon can take my title away—but whether I even want it in the first place?

The walk back home feels like a death march.

Noah offered to come with me, but I sent him away. Whatever consequences wait for me, I need to face them alone. Besides, having the Beta escort me home like a wayward child would only make things worse.

The sun has fully set now, leaving the pack grounds bathed in the silver glow of the full moon. I can hear voices from the main hall—dinner must be starting. I wonder if Jaxon told them why their Luna didn't show up. If he made excuses, or if he simply let them draw their own conclusions.

My stomach churns at the thought of facing the elders tomorrow. I didn't just ask for a divorce in private. I announced it in front of the most powerful members of the pack, then stormed out like a petulant child throwing a tantrum.

Not exactly exemplary Luna behavior.

But what else was I supposed to do? Stand there and smile while my husband introduced his son with my sister? Pretend my heart wasn't shattering into a million pieces?

I pause at the edge of the tree line, staring at the house I've called home for three years. It's beautiful—all stone and timber, built to house the Alpha's family for generations. I used to imagine filling it with children. With laughter. With love.

Stupid.

Taking a deep breath, I force myself forward. Even if I want a divorce, I can't just abandon my responsibilities. Tomorrow I'm supposed to oversee the visiting pack's welcome ceremony. Next week, I'm scheduled to mediate a dispute between two families. And there's the hospital fundraiser I've been planning for months.

I can't let the pack down just because my personal life is imploding.

The front door opens before I reach it.

Jaxon fills the doorway, backlit by the warm interior lights. His expression is unreadable, but I can see the tension in his shoulders. His scent washes over me—cedarwood and amber, laced with something sharp. Anger, maybe. Or frustration.

"You came back," he says, and I can't tell if he's surprised or relieved.

"I live here." My voice comes out steadier than I feel. "For now, anyway."

His jaw tightens. "We need to talk."

"I don't have anything to say to you."

"Well, I have plenty to say to you." He steps aside, gesturing for me to enter. "You embarrassed me in front of the elders, Skye. You can't just—"

"I embarrassed you?" The words burst out before I can stop them. "You have a secret son, Jaxon. You've been hiding my sister's return for a month. But sure, I'm the one who caused a scene."

"Inside. Now." It's not a request. It's an Alpha command, and my wolf responds instinctively, my feet carrying me through the door even as I want to resist.

I hate that. Hate how the bond makes me vulnerable to his authority.

The house smells different. It takes me a moment to place it—jasmine and oak. Cassandra's scent, woven through the familiar cedar and rain that marks this space as ours.

No. Not ours. His.

I round the corner into the living room and stop dead.

There are boxes everywhere. Suitcases lined up against the wall. A child's toy—some kind of stuffed wolf—sitting on the couch where I usually read in the evenings.

And Cassandra, directing two pack members as they carry a dresser up the stairs.

"What is this?" My voice is barely a whisper.