The Alpha’s Regret and the Luna’s Departure

I had already reached the pack house gates when Alaric’s voice cut through the night air, calm and merciless as ever.

“Elira. Leave the moonstone bracelet.”

I stopped.

He didn’t even spare me a glance when he said it. His attention was already on Nyra—the young omega now carrying the future heir of the Blackthorne Pack.

“She’s been plagued by nightmares,” he said lightly, as though that alone justified everything.

My fingers curled around the bracelet on my wrist.

It wasn’t ordinary jewelry. The moonstone had belonged to my mother, blessed by the Moon Goddess before my parents died during a rogue attack. It was the last thing they left me—the only warmth I carried through years spent standing beside Alaric, through bloody pack disputes, territory wars, and endless nights ruling at the Alpha’s side while pretending his coldness no longer wounded me.

My eyes stung, but I refused to cry.

Only then did Alaric finally look at me, his silver Alpha eyes empty and detached.

“Name your price.”

As if nine years as his mate could be traded like livestock at a market gathering.

A bitter laugh nearly escaped me.

There was no point speaking of value anymore. Not after the winter hunt, when Nyra admired my wolf-fur cloak and Alaric left me alone in the frozen mountains after forcing me to hand it over to her. I still remembered stumbling through the snow barefoot while they rode home together beneath the full moon.

So this time, I simply slid the bracelet from my wrist.

My hand trembled only once before I placed it gently into Nyra’s palm.

“May the Moon Goddess protect your pup,” I whispered.

For a moment, the air shifted strangely between us.

Then Alaric spoke again, almost as if granting mercy.

“Elira, know your place. If you remain obedient, my heir may still call you family one day.”

The words had barely settled when the bracelet slipped from Nyra’s fingers.

It shattered against the stone floor.

The crack echoed through the hall like a terrible omen.

Nyra gasped softly as a shard nicked her leg, thin blood staining the hem of her pale dress.

Alaric moved instantly.

The feared Alpha of the Blackthorne Pack crossed the hall in seconds, lifting her carefully into his arms while growling orders for the pack healer.

Around them, the wolves of the pack watched in silence, some amused, others pitying me openly.

Even I almost found it laughable.

Especially after last night.

When my heart pain had driven me to collapse near the hearth while Alaric prepared to leave for a moonlit ride with Nyra, he had simply stepped around my body. Without pause, without concern. The only order he gave was for the servants to cleanse the room with wolfsbane incense before Nyra arrived the next day, so she would not “smell sickness.”

I tightened my grip on my travel bag and turned toward the gates once more.

That was when Alaric seized my wrist.

“Apologize.”

The Alpha command in his voice struck like chains around my throat.

Before I could react, he dragged me downward.

My knees slammed against shattered moonstone fragments scattered across the floor. Pain tore through me instantly. Blood spread beneath my legs across the polished stone.

Disgust flickered across Alaric’s face as he released me.

“You broke her bracelet and injured her,” he said coldly. “And you think you can leave without apologizing?”

In this pack, I had long ago learned my place.

I apologized for everything.

For meals not to his liking.

For speaking when unspoken.

For existing too close to Nyra.

Sorry had become the language of survival.

So despite the pain, I forced myself upright, lowered my head before Nyra, and apologized three times.

Only then did I look back at Alaric.

“Is that enough?”

Silence swallowed the hall.

His gaze lingered on the blood at the corner of my lips, something unreadable darkening his expression.

“Elira,” he said slowly, almost mockingly, “your old guardian wolf is gone. Who are you trying so hard to impress now?”

Before I could answer, the pack healer rushed inside.

Alaric never looked at me again. His full attention had already returned to Nyra.

That was my chance.

I turned and walked quickly toward the gates.

No hesitation this time.

The moment I crossed beyond the pack borders, two horn calls echoed from the forest path.

A silver carriage waited beneath the trees, moonlight glinting against its frame.

My pace quickened.

But before I could reach it, the iron gates burst open behind me.

Two pack enforcers grabbed my arms and dragged me back toward the estate—

as though I had never been free to leave at all.