Chapter 5I No Longer Belong Here

Joe and I had only crossed paths a handful of times over the years, but even in those brief moments, he could tell—I wasn’t the same Rae I used to be.

Gone was the wide-eyed, fearless girl the Lunaris Institute once hailed as its brightest prodigy. In her place stood someone quieter, warier. Someone who’d spent too long living in someone else’s shadow.

Joe didn’t know much about my whirlwind marriage to Darius. But this was the werewolf world—rumors spread faster than wildfire. He must’ve heard the stories, maybe even guessed the truth. But he didn’t pry.

Instead, he looked at me in the eye and said, low and steady,

“It’s okay to fall behind for a while, Rae. You’re still the only genius in our entire Pack who has ever had the insight and discipline to independently develop AI lunar-phase control models. You built the foundations of neural-wolf interfacing before the rest of us even caught up. If you want to come back, the door’s always open.”

He continued, half-jokingly, “By the way, we even got investment from someone who cares about you. You’ve done a lot.” Of course, it was that fiery Gabriel.

Then, as if reading my self-doubt, he added, “You were the only student my mentor ever personally recommended to the core research team in his entire teaching career.”

A laugh slipped out—soft and a little bitter. “If he heard you say that, he’d probably snap that I was just the least genetically unstable out of all the failed mutations.”

I could still picture my mentor—elegant, sharp-tongued, terrifying in his brilliance. My chest tightened with something close to nostalgia. “I saw the news. He’s here too. Is he… okay?”

Lucy stirred in my chest, her voice a low growl of longing. “I want to go back.”

I know, I soothed silently. Soon.

Joe chuckled. “He’s the same as ever. Still calling us ‘his collection of failed experiments.’ Still swearing he’s retiring next year.”

I laughed, really laughed this time. For a moment, it was like we were back in Moonshadow Hall, elbow-deep in code and ambition, living off vending machine coffee and instinct.

Joe reached across the table and gently touched my hand. “Come back, Rae. We need you.”

My hand trembled. I gripped my teacup tighter, grounding myself. And then, softly, I said the word that had been buried beneath fear and regret for years:

“Okay.”

Because the truth was—I missed it. I missed the late nights. Problem-solving. The thrill of building something from nothing. I’ve been drawn to AI neural science since I was a child. I didn’t quit because I stopped caring. I quit because I thought being Darius’s Luna was my only path.

But I wasn’t someone else’s title.

I was my own.

And I was finally remembering what it felt like belonging to myself.

“When will you come back?” Joe asked.

“I’ve got a few projects to hand off first,” I said. “Give me a little time.”

Joe nodded. “We’ll wait.”

We chatted for a while longer, falling into the easy rhythm of old friends. Eventually, he glanced at his watch.

“There’s a new algorithm prodigy who just transferred to Lunaris. I’m supposed to meet her tonight. Want to come?”

I smiled politely and shook my head. “Not tonight. I’m not ready to meet your new team yet.”

Joe didn’t push. He knew me well enough to respect the boundary. He stood, gave me one last meaningful look, and left.

As I was about to follow, I caught sight of a familiar figure approaching.

Rebecca.

Darius’s older sister. Born with Beta blood and raised to believe her lineage granted her authority. She married into a wealthy pack years ago, and that sense of superiority clung to her like a perfume she never quite washed off.

Her eyes narrowed the second she spotted me.

I gave her a nod. “Rebecca.”

She didn’t return the greeting. Her expression pinched, like she’d just smelled something sour. “What are you doing here?”

I kept my voice even. “It’s Lunaris’s anniversary. I’m an alumna too, remember?”

That seemed to catch her off guard—she’d momentarily forgotten she wasn’t the only one with credentials. But then, her gaze turned calculating.

“I’ll send Miles to you and Darius tonight,” she said brusquely. “He’s asking for your cooking again.”

Ah. There it was.

Miles—her teenage son—had developed a taste for my homemade meals. Ever since Rebecca realized he preferred eating with us, she started dropping him off without notice, like I was the live-in nanny rather than the estranged Luna. Miles treated me like a servant, and Luca absolutely loathed him. Every time they were in the same room, Luca would mutter curses under his breath—or worse, spit in his cousin’s soup.

I used to endure it. For Darius. For peace.

Not anymore.

“I’m busy tomorrow,” I said calmly.

Rebecca blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I said I’m not available,” I repeated, with a smile that didn’t reach my eyes.

She stared at me like I’d grown horns. The old me wouldn’t have dared refuse her—not when Darius still expected me to play the perfect wife. But I wasn’t that woman anymore.

Rebecca’s voice turned clipped. “Darius and Lyra aren’t even home. What could possibly be so important?” She went on, without a trace of concern in her voice, “Take care of yourself. Don’t forget your meds.”

I didn’t answer.

I didn’t need to.

For years, I orbited their world like a moon with no light of her own. I let them define my worth. Not anymore.

Just then, a group of well-dressed guests approached, waving cheerfully. “Miss Rebecca!”

She straightened, adjusting her tone and posture like flipping a switch. One of them nodded toward me.

“And who’s this?”

Rebecca hesitated. “Just a… friend.”

I stood still as they eyed me. No one recognized me. No one asked further. I wasn’t part of their world anymore—and for the first time, that truth didn’t sting.

One of the men gave my legs a slow, appreciative glance.

I turned away without flinching. They moved on, fawning over Rebecca, leaving me in their shadow.

And I felt nothing.

No shame. No regret. Just… peace.

I gathered my things and walked out of the gates of Lunaris Institute, never once looking back.

——

That night, just before midnight, a private plane touched down at the Dallas suburban airstrip.

Darius carried a sleeping Lyra in his arms as they returned to the Moon Claw Pack’s northern house. He pushed open the front door, weary of travel.

He passed the master bedroom.

The door was ajar.

The lights were off.

The bed was empty.

He frowned and gently tucked Lyra into her room, brushing her hair from her forehead before stepping back into the hallway.

He turned on the bedroom light.

Still empty.

Just then, the butler came upstairs with their luggage.

Darius tugged at his cloak collar, his voice low and tight. “Where is she?”

The butler hesitated. “The Mistress… she left on a business trip.”

Darius said nothing.

He already knew I was gone. But something in him had been hoping I’d still be here. Maybe I’d waited for him.

He looked back at the empty bed again.

And this time, he couldn’t look away.