Caelia’s POV
For three long years, I had carried the title of Alpha Lucien’s wife—though only in name and ink.
In all that time, no one had ever addressed me as Luna.
Not the council elders. Not the pack members who passed me in the halls. Not even the man who had placed the ring on my finger.
Each morning, I slid that simple silver band into place and told myself it meant something. That I wasn’t merely the woman whose signature sat beside his on an official record. I convinced myself that one day, I would walk down a proper aisle, cloaked in ceremony, while the entire pack bowed their heads and acknowledged me as their Luna. That one day, the murmurs trailing behind me would finally fade into silence.
Instead, three years slipped by—and the murmurs only sharpened.
She’s not the real Luna.
She’s temporary.
The Alpha will replace her soon enough.
I heard every word, even when they thought I didn’t. Still, I held my head high and forced my steps not to falter. I had been raised to endure, to stand beside my alpha through hardship and doubt. And Lucien had sworn to me—promised me—that once the pack healed from the devastation of the war, once Nightborne stood strong again, he would give me the recognition and ceremony owed to his mate.
I chose to believe him. Maybe because I needed to. Maybe because, despite everything, I loved him.
I loved him when his voice turned distant and clipped. I loved him when he spent countless nights buried in work at the border office. I loved him even when the pack’s looks reminded me again and again that no matter how many meals I prepared, how many bloodstained uniforms I cleaned, or how warmly I greeted his warriors, I was still not their Luna.
I existed in his shadow—nothing more.
But that evening was supposed to be different.
It marked our third wedding anniversary. Three years since I had taken his name. Three years since I became Caelia, wife of Alpha Lucien.
If he wasn’t going to acknowledge it, then I would.
I devoted the entire morning to baking, refusing shortcuts. I didn’t buy anything from the market or place an order with the kitchen staff. I made it myself—a moist carrot cake, sweet and spiced just right. I had seen him pick carrot pastries more than once on his way to work. I thought it was his favorite. I hoped that if I brought him something he loved, he might finally look at me differently—not as an obligation, not as a convenient wife, but as his chosen mate.
He had warned me before.
“The border office isn’t safe,” he’d said. “Enemy wolves still roam nearby. Stay within the inner territory, Caelia.”
But what was the point of an anniversary without effort? What was the value of a marriage untouched by sacrifice?
So I wrapped the cake carefully and made my way toward the edge of our land, toward the stone structure standing watch near the border. Inside me, my wolf paced restlessly, claws scraping at my thoughts.
“I just want to see him happy,” I murmured, trying to calm her.
With every step closer, the air grew colder, heavier. Pine and iron filled my senses, sharp and unsettling, tainted by the nearness of hostile territory. The guards stationed along the path watched me with open curiosity—some with poorly hidden amusement. None stopped me. Why would they? If the Alpha’s wife wanted to humiliate herself, it was her choice.
By the time I reached the office, my hands were shaking. The silence there felt unnatural, thick enough to choke on. I reached for the door—and stopped.
It wasn’t fully closed.
Inside, Lucien sat behind his desk, his imposing frame relaxed beneath the lantern glow, dark hair catching the light. My heart leapt—then shattered.
He wasn’t alone.
A woman stood beside him, her hand entwined with his.
Calista.
The name echoed painfully in my mind. His first love. The omega who had disappeared four years ago in the middle of the war, gone without explanation. The woman I had believed was a ghost of his past.
She was smiling at him—softly, intimately—the kind of smile that spoke of shared memories and unbroken bonds.
Spread across the desk were official documents. I recognized them instantly. Marriage contracts. My breath hitched as the officiant seated across from them pushed the papers forward.
“By the authority of the wolf realm,” the man said, finalizing the last signature, “I declare Alpha Lucien and Calista lawfully mated.”
The room tilted. I staggered backward, my pulse roaring in my ears. This couldn’t be happening. It had to be some cruel illusion.
Calista hesitated, glancing up at him. “And… your wife? What about Caelia?”
Hearing my name from her lips felt like a blade twisting deeper.
Lucien didn’t even pause. “What I had with her was never real,” he replied coolly. “It was a temporary arrangement to appease the council while the pack recovered. She’s too sentimental to handle the truth, so I won’t burden her with it yet. If she causes trouble, I’ll have her sent away. She’ll learn to live with it.”
My legs nearly gave out. My chest felt hollow, as if something vital had been torn away.
As if that weren’t enough, he opened a small box on the desk and removed a single cupcake—carrot. He set it gently in front of Calista.
“I remembered you like these,” he said, his voice suddenly warm.
And in that moment, everything became painfully clear.
It had never been his favorite.
The carrot cake—every pastry, every effort—I had gotten it wrong. It had always been hers.
I clamped a hand over my mouth to muffle the sob breaking free. I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t let them see me unravel. I turned silently and fled, tears blinding me as I ran. The cake slipped from my grasp, hitting the ground and bursting apart in a mess of frosting and crumbs.
Inside me, my wolf cried out—wounded, furious, betrayed. He never chose us. Not once.
I ran without direction, driven only by the need to escape—from the office, from the lies, from the image of him claiming another woman as his mate.
Branches tore at my skin. Darkness swallowed the path. My lungs burned, yet I didn’t slow down.
Then I heard it.
A growl—deep, threatening.
I stopped cold.
Lifting my gaze, I felt the blood drain from my face.
Rogues.
Six of them at least, their eyes glowing red in the shadows, bodies scarred and wild. I had crossed too far. They had caught my scent.
My heart thundered as I retreated, but they closed in, snarling, teeth flashing beneath the moonlight.
My wolf surged, desperate to fight, to shift—but there was no one behind me. No guards. No alpha. No pack.
Just me.
And the sting of betrayal still burning on my tongue.
“Lucien,” I whispered brokenly as the first wolf leapt forward, tears streaming down my face. “Why was I never enough?”
