Chapter 4

Chapter 4 — The Luna Who Rises

The first thing I notice is the smell.

Sterile. Cold. Sharp.

Then the quiet hum of machines, the faint rhythm of beeping beside me.

I try to open my eyes. The light stings.

The ceiling above me is white, smooth, unfamiliar.

A hospital.

I try to move, but my body refuses. It feels like it’s been split down the middle, as if someone reached in and tore out the pieces that used to hold me together.

Memories come slowly at first—like waves too heavy to carry.

My birthday.

The whispers.

Lyra’s smirk.

Kael’s hand on her waist.

And then the mark—the moment everything I was turned into nothing.

I try to sit up, but a hand presses my shoulder gently.

“Elara, please. You need to rest.”

It’s Mira. My assistant, my only friend in this house of wolves.

Her eyes are swollen, red-rimmed.

“How long?” My voice is dry, almost a whisper.

“A day and a half,” she says softly. “You scared me.”

She pours water into a glass and lifts it to my lips. The water is cold, refreshing, and it feels strange to realize I’m still alive.

“Thank you,” I murmur.

She nods, sitting down beside the bed, but I can see something in her eyes—something she’s trying hard to hide.

“What is it?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “It’s nothing. You should drink more.”

“Mira.” My voice is low but firm. “Tell me.”

She exhales, eyes dropping to her hands. “Kael announced the coronation. It’s tomorrow. Lyra will be crowned as Luna of the pack.”

For a moment, there’s no sound at all.

Even the machines seem to pause.

I blink slowly, once, twice.

“So soon?”

“Yes.”

I look away. The window beside me is half-open, letting in the night air. It smells like rain and iron.

“Go on,” I whisper. “I can tell there’s more.”

She hesitates again. “There are rumors too,” she says finally. “That Ethan… wants to cut ties. He’s filing to terminate your parental rights and let Lyra adopt him.”

My heart stills. The room spins for a moment.

Ethan. My son. My little boy.

I feel tears pushing against the back of my eyes, but I blink hard. “I see,” I say quietly.

Mira reaches for my hand. “Elara, I’m so sorry.”

I pull my hand back gently. “Could you leave me alone for a while?”

She nods quickly, eyes wet. “Of course.”

When the door closes, the silence returns.

And this time, I don’t fight the tears.

They fall freely—hot, endless, unstoppable.

Is this really my punishment?

For loving a man too much?

For believing that kindness could make someone stay?

Seven years. Seven years of giving, forgiving, waiting.

I press my palm over my chest. There’s no mark there anymore, only faint warmth where his once was.

Soon it will fade completely, erased from existence—like our love, like my place in his world.

I stare at the ceiling as memories flood in, uninvited and cruel.

---

Seven years ago.

College days.

Kael was already an Alpha then—young, proud, and newly broken.

Rumors had spread like wildfire: Lyra, his first love, had left him for a richer Alpha from the East.

His pack was collapsing, debts piling up, alliances falling apart.

He stopped showing up to meetings. He drank. He fought. He forgot himself.

And I—quiet, invisible Elara—watched from the sidelines, my heart aching for someone who didn’t even know it beat for him.

When Lyra left, I told myself it was fate.

That maybe, finally, he’d see me.

And he did.

But not because of love.

Because I was useful.

Because I had the connections, the influence, the name that could rebuild what he’d lost.

I helped him rise again. I rebuilt his pack’s alliances, used my parents’ power, begged for his honor to be restored.

And when he finally smiled at me—just once, just faintly—I mistook gratitude for love.

I even proposed to him.

He said yes.

For years, I believed that meant something.

That if I kept giving, he’d eventually love me back.

But love doesn’t grow from pity.

And no matter how much sunlight I gave him, he was always reaching for another flower.

Lyra.

---

A sob tears from my throat before I can stop it.

All of it—every humiliation, every wound—it was for nothing.

I wipe my face roughly with the back of my hand. Enough.

Crying won’t fix this. Tears won’t change Kael. They won’t make Ethan see me.

I swing my legs off the bed, ignoring the way the room tilts. The drip tugs at my wrist, but I pull it free.

Pain stings for a second, sharp and real. It grounds me.

The floor is cold beneath my feet, the tiles smooth and merciless.

I catch my reflection in the glass window—pale skin, dark circles, a woman I barely recognize.

But her eyes… her eyes are alive.

Weak, yes. But burning.

The door opens again. Mira rushes in, startled. “Elara! What are you doing? You shouldn’t—”

“I need you to listen.” My voice is quiet, but it fills the room.

She freezes.

“Tomorrow, when they celebrate,” I say slowly, “we’ll start again.”

She blinks. “What do you mean?”

“Gather those who are loyal to me. The ones who remember who built this pack. The ones who still believe in me.”

“Elara…”

“If they want a Luna to kneel, they’ll find I’ve already risen,” I whisper.

She looks at me for a long time, her mouth slightly open. Then, slowly, she nods. “You’re serious.”

“I’ve never been clearer.”

Mira swallows hard. “What about me?”

I meet her gaze. “If you want to stay, stay. But know this—I’m done crying. I’m done begging for love that was never mine. From now on, I’ll build something that no one can take away.”

Her eyes glisten, but she nods again. “Then I’m with you.”

A small smile touches my lips for the first time in what feels like forever. “Good.”

I walk to the window, pull the curtain aside, and look out. The moon is half-hidden behind clouds, pale and quiet.

For years, I prayed to her for love.

Now, I pray for strength.

Tomorrow, they will crown Lyra.

They will dance, drink, and call her Luna.

And I will not be there to watch.

Because while they celebrate their victory, I will begin mine.

Not as Kael’s mate.

Not as the Luna they erased.

But as Elara.

The Luna who rises.