Shadows Of The Rejected Luna

The rain pounded against the windows of our packhouse like angry fists, mirroring the storm raging inside me. I'd always loved the sound of it before - cozy, almost romantic, curling up with Ryder under the thick quilts his mother had woven by hand. But tonight, it just felt like the world was trying to drown out my screams. I stood there in the hallway, my bare feet cold on the hardwood floor, clutching the little velvet box I'd hidden in my drawer for weeks. It was our anniversary gift: a silver locket engraved with the date we first met, back when he was just the cocky beta's son and I was the orphaned girl nobody wanted.

God, how naive I'd been. Three years of marriage, and I'd poured everything into being the perfect Luna. Organizing pack events, mediating squabbles between the wolves, even learning to cook Ryder's favorite venison stew from scratch. I thought we were building something real, something unbreakable. But lately, he'd been distant-late nights at the border patrols, excuses about pack business that dragged on until dawn. I chalked it up to stress. The rival packs were pressing in, and as Alpha now, he carried the weight of it all.

I shouldn't have ignored the whispers. The way some of the she-wolves averted their eyes when I walked by, or how my best friend Lila started canceling our coffee dates. "Pack duties," she'd say with that too-bright smile. Yeah, right.

Pushing the doubts aside, I tiptoed toward our bedroom, the box warm in my palm. Maybe this would fix things. A surprise, a reminder of us. The door was ajar, a sliver of golden light spilling out. I heard voices-low, intimate. My heart stuttered. Ryder's deep rumble, and then a giggle. Lila's giggle.

I froze, my hand on the doorknob. No. It couldn't be. But curiosity-or maybe masochism-pushed me forward. I peeked through the crack, and the world tilted.

There they were, tangled in our sheets. Ryder's broad back, marked with the scars from his ascension fight, arched over her. Lila's red hair fanned out on my pillow, her nails digging into his shoulders. They were laughing, whispering things I couldn't make out, but the way he looked at her... it was the way he used to look at me. Tender, possessive.

A sob caught in my throat, but I swallowed it down. I wanted to burst in, scream, claw at them both. Instead, I backed away, the locket slipping from my fingers to clatter on the floor. The sound echoed like a gunshot in the quiet hall.

Ryder's head snapped up. "Elara?" His voice was rough, surprised but not guilty. Not yet.

I turned and ran, my feet slapping against the wood. Down the stairs, out the front door into the pouring rain. The cold hit me like a slap, soaking my thin nightgown instantly. But I didn't care. I needed air, space, anything to stop the images from replaying in my head.

"Elara! Wait!"