The Breaking Moon

The Breaking Moon

The pearls on Evandra’s vanity glowed faintly under the golden lamplight, but her eyes were fixed on the dress instead. Champagne sequins shimmered like liquid starlight each time she shifted, catching and throwing flecks of light across her bedroom. She smoothed her palms down the fabric, steadying her nerves with the ritual. Tonight was the Moon Gala—the grandest event of the year, where every Alpha and Luna gathered under the watchful Moon Goddess’s gaze. It was supposed to be a celebration of unity, of strength, of bonds forged and unbroken, vows renewed, of bonds woven tighter under the silver blessing of the moon.

For Evandra, it felt like a test.

“Are you ready?” Jalen’s voice cut through her thoughts, deep but clipped, like the snap of a frozen branch.

She turned. Her husband—her mate, her Alpha—stood in the doorway wearing a tailored black suit. The jacket was cut perfectly to his broad shoulders, his dark hair slicked back, his face carved in stern lines. She studied his dark eyes. He was devastatingly handsome, as always, but there was no warmth in his gaze when it fell on her.

“Almost,” she said softly, forcing a smile. She reached for her earrings, pearl drops that had belonged to his mother. A Luna should look timeless, Jalen always said. She tried to take the words as a compliment. Tonight, they felt like a command etched in stone.

The drive was cloaked in silence, save for the faint hum of the engine. Evie clasped her hands in her lap, her dress glittering like a net of stars beneath the muted glow of the interior lights. “Do you know who all will be there this year?” she asked, her voice bright, hopeful. “I heard the Silver Haven Alpha’s taking a new Luna. Most of the other Alphas remain without mates last I remember. And maybe there will be another ball before winter? Some of the packs have been talking about—”

“No,” Jalen interrupted flatly, his eyes fixed on the road ahead as if carved from iron.

The single word landed like a stone in her chest. She pressed her lips together, swallowing the familiar sting of her disappointment. He had been quiet for weeks, shorter with her than usual, but she told herself it was stress. Alphas carried the weight of their people like the tide carries the moon’s pull. She had promised to carry it with him.

When they arrived, the gala hall bloomed before her in a blur of crystal chandeliers, flowing gowns, and the thick mingled scents of wolfkind—cedar, smoke, wild earth dancing in the air. The presence of so many wolves charged the atmosphere until it vibrated in her bones, a symphony of power and lineage. They were ushered to the photo dais, the air alive with flashes of white light. Evie instinctively slipped closer to Jalen, looping her hand through his arm, pressing her body to his side as she tilted her head toward him. The perfect picture of unity.

But he didn’t move. He stood stiff, hands at his sides, not even resting one on her waist. She laughed lightly, brushing it off for the cameras. He’s in a bad mood, she told herself. That’s all. Just stress. But even as the flashes burned, the bond between them felt thin, like a thread fraying in the dark.

The next morning, when the gala was over and the mansion stood hushed beneath dawn’s pale light, Evie poured herself tea in the Luna’s sitting room. She’d been thinking all night, weighing her words carefully, courage building like a fragile flame in her chest. When Jalen walked in, she set the cup down and looked up at him.

“I’ve been thinking,” she said, her voice steady though her heart pounded like war drums. “We should set an appointment. To discuss… fertility options. I know it hasn’t been easy, and I don’t want us to lose hope.”

For the first time in days, his eyes truly met hers. But there was no softness in them. Only finality, as though the moon itself had turned away

“I don’t want an appointment, Evandra.” He spoke her full name like a blade. “I want a divorce.”

The words tore the breath from her lungs. She blinked at him, certain she had misheard. “What? No, you—you can’t. I’m your mate. I’m the Luna. I’ve given everything to this pack—”

“You’ve given enough,” he said, turning from her. “I’ve chosen another. An omega. She’s already carrying my pup.”

The room spun. Her chest constricted, every heartbeat a jagged knife. Panic clawed at her throat. She staggered forward, reaching for him. “No! No, you can’t do this to me, Jalen! I am your mate, I am your Luna!”

Her vision blurred as her breathing spiraled out of control. She screamed, wept, pleaded, but his face remained a mask of stone. Guards appeared at the door.

“Restrain her.”

Strong hands gripped her arms, forcing her to her knees. She thrashed, wild with desperation. “Jalen, please—don’t do this! Don’t you feel it? The bond—the goddess’s bond—”

“I reject it,” he said coldly. His voice rang like a verdict. “I reject you, Evandra Johnson, as my mate. As my Luna. From this moment, you are banished from the Pearl Pack.”

The rejection hit like a deathblow. The sacred mate bond, once spun of moonlight and marrow, snapped inside her, ripping away the last tether of her soul. She screamed as the pain tore through her body, a hollowing agony worse than claws, worse than fire. It was the sound of a soul being severed from its other half. Through blurred eyes, she could see Jalen hit the ground, too.

And then there was nothing, numbness. Only silence, the weight of exile pressing in, cold and endless, as if the Moon Goddess herself had turned her face away.