QUEEN OF THE BROKEN MOON

Elira stood in the corner of the packhouse kitchen, her hands trembling from the cold water she had used to scrub the last pot. Her fingers were red, cracked, and raw, but no one noticed. No one ever noticed the omega girl who worked herself bloody in the shadows. She was the extra body, the ghost in the halls—used, discarded, and forgotten.

The snowstorm howled outside, its icy breath seeping through the cracks in the walls, but no one offered her a blanket. Her thin tunic was still damp from earlier when she'd slipped on the stone steps carrying Kael’s breakfast tray and spilled the entire meal. She hadn’t even cried when they beat her for it.

Elira had learned not to cry.

She dried her hands on her skirt and tried to stand up straighter. The bruises on her back protested, but she swallowed the pain. Tonight was the Full Moon Gathering. She had to serve at the celebration—and be perfect. The Alpha didn't tolerate clumsy omegas ruining the rituals.

From the main hall, she could already hear the raucous laughter and clink of goblets. The scent of roasted meat and sweet wine filled the air, and for a moment, Elira let herself pretend she was just another member of the pack. That maybe someone would call her name—not to scold her or command her, but just to speak to her.

"Omega!" The bark shattered her thoughts. Beta Geric shoved through the kitchen door, sneering. "You're late. Get out there and serve before the Alpha sees your useless face and tosses you in the snow."

Elira dipped her head. “Yes, Beta,” she whispered and hurried to obey.

She carried the tray with both hands, careful not to spill a single drop of wine. As she stepped into the great hall, the heat and noise swallowed her whole. Wolves lounged on fur-draped chairs, laughing, flirting, snarling over games and drink. The Alpha sat at the head table, his massive frame draped in black leather, his silver-streaked hair gleaming in the firelight. Next to him sat Kael.

Elira’s heart twisted at the sight of him.

Kael looked every inch the prince of the pack—broad shoulders, sharp cheekbones, eyes like stormclouds before thunder. His golden hair fell across his forehead in that effortless way that used to make her breath catch. Once, when no one else could see, he had touched her cheek and called her beautiful. Once, he had kissed her in the shadows and promised they’d run away together.

Now, he acted as if she didn’t exist.

Elira approached quietly, head bowed, placing the wine goblet before him with the same care she would give a sacred relic. Her hand brushed his, and her skin lit up with the phantom pull of their supposed mate bond—a bond he’d never acknowledged, never claimed.

He didn’t look at her. He looked at the girl beside him. A tall, powerful she-wolf draped in red silk and adorned with gold.

Kael leaned in close to the girl and whispered something that made her laugh. Elira’s stomach knotted. She turned to leave.

“Elira,” Kael said suddenly, catching her wrist.

Her breath caught. Her name in his voice still burned like fire.

He turned to her at last, his smile sharp. “You missed a spot.”

He dipped a finger into the wine and flicked a drop at her face.

Laughter erupted around the table.

Elira stood frozen, humiliated heat crawling up her neck. The wine slid down her cheek like blood. Kael had never struck her. That would draw too much attention. But this—this cruel game—was worse.

“Clean it up,” he said, voice soft, as if he were doing her a favor.

She reached for the napkin in her apron, dabbing her cheek without a word. If she spoke, her voice would shake. If she looked up, they’d see the tears gathering in her eyes.

And if she cried, they’d win.

She turned and walked away with her tray, her spine rigid and her heart cracking with every step.

---

Outside the packhouse, the cold wind bit at her face, but she welcomed it. It made her feel something real. She stumbled into the storage shed, closed the door behind her, and let herself slide to the floor.

Her hands were shaking.

She pressed her forehead to her knees, fighting the sob that wanted to escape. She couldn’t do this anymore. She had given everything. Her trust. Her love. Her loyalty. And for what? To be thrown aside like trash?

She didn’t even know who she was anymore.

A knock startled her.

She scrambled up as the door creaked open. Kael stepped inside, the light behind him outlining his tall frame. His face was unreadable, but there was no kindness in it.

“I told you not to cry,” he said coldly.

“I’m not,” Elira whispered.

He stepped closer. “You embarrassed me. I don’t like that.”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“Doesn’t matter what you meant.” His hand caught her chin, forcing her to look up. “You’re just an omega. You should be grateful I even bothered with you at all.”

Her chest caved in. “You said you loved me.”

“I lied.”

The words hit harder than any blow.

“Let this be a lesson,” he said, voice low. “You don’t get to dream, Elira. Not girls like you.”

He turned and left her alone, again.

---

That night, she didn’t sleep. Her mind raced, her heart in pieces. The snow piled high outside, and the wind grew stronger. A storm was coming.

By dawn, the Alpha declared her missing.

They said she’d run away—an ungrateful, weak omega too soft to survive the cold. The search parties were brief. The whispers said she probably froze to death in the mountains.

No one mourned her.

Not Kael.

Not the pack.

They were wrong.

She didn’t die.

She was found.

By a monster wrapped in shadow.

By a king who would change everything.

---