The Luna He Abandoned

"He sent me the most beautiful dress I had ever owned the morning he planned to throw me away."

I should have known.

The box arrived before sunrise ... no card, no note, just deep wine-red silk folded in tissue paper and tied with a black ribbon. I ran my fingers along the fabric and let myself believe, just for a moment, that four years of trying to be enough had finally landed somewhere inside him.

I knew better. Rowan Gale never gave without taking twice in return.

But I still wore the dress.

I had been doing that for four years ... choosing to believe what was easier than accepting what was real. I married him at twenty-one because my father said the alliance between the Vayne pack and Ashford would protect our people. I was young enough to think duty and love might eventually grow into the same thing. They hadn't. Rowan was handsome and careful and always a little too far away ... like a wolf standing at a window in a room he didn't want to let you into.

He had never been cruel. Not before tonight.

The Annual Pack Summit was held in the Ashford estate's great hall, a room that could hold three hundred people without anyone feeling crowded. I walked in beside my husband with my spine straight and my chin level, wearing his dress and his name, and every person I passed greeted me with the measured respect reserved for a wowolf whose position they acknowledged but whose person they'd never quite bothered to see.

I noticed Lena Harrow near the back wall. She worked in Rowan's administrative office. I had always found her presence at pack events slightly unnecessary, but I'd told myself that was jealousy, and I'd pushed the feeling down the way I pushed most uncomfortable feelings.

I should have stopped pushing and started listening a long time ago.

Rowan tapped his glass at twenty past eight.

The room went quiet the way rooms always went quiet for him ... instantly, completely, the way sound obeyed power without being asked. I was standing three feet to his left with a champagne flute I hadn't touched, still smiling, still performing the role I'd been performing for four years.

"I have something I want to say to everyone in this room tonight." He set his glass down on a passing server's tray. He didn't look at me. "It concerns my marriage."

The first thing I felt was curiosity. The second was cold.

"I married Dara Vayne four years ago because her father's alliance was useful to this pack." He said it the way you'd say the weather was mild ... no heat, no guilt, nothing. "That is all it ever was. A transaction. I want everyone in this room to understand that clearly, because what I'm about to do deserves honesty as its foundation."

Someone nearby pulled in a quiet breath. Not me. My own breath had stopped entirely.

"She is plain." He turned to look at me then, and I almost wished he hadn't. His eyes moved over me like he was describing furniture to a buyer. "She has produced no heir in four years of marriage. She carries no wolf of her own ... she cannot shift, she never could, and I think every Alpha in this room has wondered at some point how a wolfless wowolf came to stand as a Luna at all." He shook his head slowly, like the thought genuinely saddened him. "I deserve a real Luna. Ashford deserves better."

Someone in the crowd began to nod. I saw it from the corner of my eye. A wolf I had welcomed into our pack home for dinner three times in the past year.

"She was not even..." Rowan paused, and I braced for what came. "...engaging. In any meaningful way." He let the pause sit exactly long enough for every person in the room to understand what he meant. Quiet laughter moved through the back half of the crowd. Not the whole crowd. But enough. "I stopped looking forward to going home a long time ago."

He reached behind him.

Lena stepped forward in white.

She was already wearing a ring.

I looked at that ring for a full three seconds. Then I looked at Rowan. Then I looked out at the room ... two hundred faces, most of them politely turned away, some openly staring, none of them moving to stop what was happening.

"Guards," Rowan said, raising one hand loosely, like he was hailing a server. "Escort my former Luna out of this hall."

The two men who flanked me were people I had passed in the corridor every morning for four years. Neither met my eyes. One placed a hand on my elbow.

I didn't fight it. There was nothing to fight that would not make it worse. I let them walk me toward the door, and the last thing I heard clearly before the crowd noise swallowed everything was a wowolf's voice behind me: "A wolfless Luna. Can you imagine."

I could. I'd been imagining it for four years.

The walk to my father's pack house took forty minutes on foot. I made it in the dark, in the wine-red dress, in the heels I had put on that morning thinking the night meant something.

Vera was at the gate.

My stepmother had the particular skill of making her face a closed door ... no warmth, no give, no space for entry. She was standing with her arms crossed and her chin lifted, and the look she gave me was not surprise. She had known. Maybe before I had.

"I need somewhere to stay," I said. My voice came out steadier than I felt. "Just until I figure out what's next."

"There is nothing here for you." She didn't step aside. She didn't blink. "You've dragged enough embarrassment to this family's name already. My girls have futures to protect."

"Please." I hated that word in my mouth. I had promised myself on the walk over that I would not say it. "I have nowhere else."

Her smile was small and certain.

The gate began to close.

"The best thing you can do," Vera said, her voice carrying through the shrinking gap, "is disappear quietly. Before you embarrass anyone else."

The iron clicked shut.

I stood in the dark for a long time, staring at a gate I had walked through a hundred times as a child. I stood there until the cold finally moved my feet.

I had made it three steps down the road when headlights swept across me and a car slowed to a stop.

The window came down. Becca. Her face was white, her eyes wide, her hands tight on the wheel.

"Get in," she said. "Right now. Get in the car."

I opened the door and sat down and she pulled away before I had even closed it. She drove in silence for a full minute before she spoke again.

"Your father signed something tonight," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Before the summit. Before Rowan even gave his speech." She kept her eyes on the road. "A new alliance, Dara. A different Alpha. He sold the arrangement tonight. And the Alpha they agreed to..." she stopped. Swallowed. "He's already sent a representative to confirm."

The wine-red silk felt wrong against my skin. Too cold.

"Who?" My voice came out very quiet.

Becca's hands tightened on the wheel.

"His name is Finn Steyne."