Two months after Dwyn's arrival in Seoul...
The mate mark still burned sometimes.Even weeks later, when the bite had faded from red to silver, and Kael's scent clung to my skin like proof.
He chose me.
That should've been enough.
But it wasn't.
Because no matter how many nights I spent in his arms, no matter how many meetings Beta Parker paraded us through like the picture of unity and succession—I would never be Luna.
Not unless Kael became Alpha.
And that title? That legacy?
Still hung in the shadows of her name.
Dwyn.
The lost daughter. The dark-skinned siren heir. The one who didn't look like anyone else in this pack and was judged for it her entire life.
The one who left.
The one the elders pretend never existed.
The one whose shadow still curled around Kael's shoulders every time he thought I wasn't watching.
"You are his mate," Cami, my wolf, would hiss.
"You wear his mark. You belong to him. She gave him up."
"We won. Why do you still feel like you're losing?"
Because Kael never chose me first.
He chose the pack.
He chose Parker's warnings, and Anubis's silence, and the weight of what it meant to be the future.
He rejected Dwyn because he was told he had to.
And I?I was convenient.I was present.I was willing.
I let him mark me under a silver moon in the grove behind the chapel.I whispered promises I never meant, pressed my lips to his skin and said I'd never leave.
But in his sleep, sometimes, he murmurs a different name.
Hers.
And it makes me want to tear out everything soft inside me.
Because the truth?
Even now, I'm not enough.
Not for the Luna title.Not for the pack's full devotion.Not even for Kael's whole heart.
But I will be.
"You don't have to be Luna to rule," Cami purred.
"Power doesn't ask permission. It takes."
So I smiled at the ceremonies.I bowed my head at the bonfires.I played the good mate. The beautiful Beta's chosen.
But I was always watching.Always calculating.Always listening for the first whisper that Dwyn might come back.
Because if she ever does?
I will be ready.
With the full force of a pack who forgot her.With Kael's mark on my neck and Parker's support at my back.And a throne she can't take — because she gave it up.
Let her sing in Seoul.Let her chase dreams and cameras and notes no one understands.
Because in the forest?
She's already been replaced.
And this time?
I won't let her rewrite the ending.
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The chapel smelled like pine and smoke.
Lanterns swung overhead, casting gold across every timber beam, every polished pew, every too-bright smile. The pack was gathered—elders in ceremonial robes, warriors in pressed uniforms, pups wide-eyed and wriggling beside their mothers.
They called it a celebration.
A joining.
A promise.
But to me, it felt like a sentence.
Mera stood across from me in white and silver. A crown of frost-touched blooms wove through her curls. Her lips were red, her skin radiant, her smile honed to something knife-sharp and camera-ready. She looked like the image of a Luna—except she never would be. Not truly. Not unless my father died. Not unless Duskthorn relinquished power.
Not unless the stars shifted themselves to favor me over her.
And yet, here we were.
"Say the vows," Echo, my wolf, growled low, pinned tight behind my ribs.
"Finish it. You chose this."
I couldn't feel my hands. My throat was dry.
The officiant cleared his throat.
"Kael Duskthorn, son of Beta Parker, do you bind yourself to this mate—of your own free will?"
The words rang out like hollow bells. I glanced toward my father in the front row. Beta Parker sat stiff-backed, proud. Cold. Aspen, his wolf, paced behind his eyes like a sentry on the wall.
Next to him, Alpha Duskthorn said nothing.
He hadn't since Dwyn left.
The silence around his gaze was louder than the whole room.
Dwyn.
The name flickered across my mind like a wound that never closed.
I hadn't seen her in over 5 months, but her voice lived in my bones. Her laugh haunted the training fields. I still dreamed about the look in her eyes the day I walked away.
The day I told her I couldn't.
Wouldn't.
Shouldn't.
"I do," I said, barely louder than breath.
Mera's eyes glittered.
The officiant turned. "Mera Hale, daughter of—of the Hale line… do you accept this mate, with bond and mark and oath?"
"I do," she said, all sugar and venom.
She reached out, pressed her palm to mine.
The bond flared—not the wild pull of a true mate, but the anchoring weight of a choice. A second-best stitched with desperation.
"Ours now," Cami purred inside her.
"All his. All yours."
Her fingers tightened around mine as the mate mark shimmered across our skin, glowing faintly in the candlelight. The room erupted in howls, cheers, blessings. I felt every clap on my back like a blow.
A thousand faces smiled. None of them hers.
There was no Dwyn in the crowd.
But the ache she left never once looked away.
Later, when the ceremony ended and the feast began, when the wine flowed and Mera leaned into me like a queen, I stared at the firelight dancing across the floor and thought of the girl who used to sing to the wind.
Of the wolf who used to run beside mine.
Of the life I wanted—before I was told to want something else.
"This is what you chose," Echo growled.
"Then why does it feel like we lost?"
The feast blurred together.
Wine. Laughter. A war drum of celebration pounding through the great hall.
Mera was everywhere—laughing, kissing cheeks, spinning like the Luna she'd never officially be. But gods, she played the part so well. Radiant. Lethal. Intentional.
I sat at the head table, goblet untouched. My skin still buzzed from the forced mate mark glowing faintly on my collarbone.
Cami, her wolf, was purring with satisfaction in the bond space between us.
"We've won," she murmured.
"This is everything you were promised."
Echo didn't answer.
He hadn't said a word since the ceremony.
Across the hall, I caught my father watching me—eyes sharp, calculating. Aspen's presence sat like a storm behind him. If I looked closely, I could see the gleam of triumph in both their gazes.
This was their victory. Not mine.
Mera took the center of the floor.
She wore a dress of pale gold now—delicate and wicked. Her curls were pinned up, her shoulders bare. Every eye turned toward her like she'd summoned gravity.
"Can I have your attention?" she said, her voice honey-sweet, tinged with command.
The chatter died. The musicians paused. Even the pups seemed to still.
I sat up straighter.
She turned to me first, and the smile she gave me was theatrical. Perfect.
Then she placed a hand on her stomach.
And dropped the match.
"I wanted to thank the pack… for welcoming me into your home, your ranks, and now—your legacy."
A quiet murmur stirred.
"I'm honored to announce that Kael and I… are expecting our first child."
The hall erupted.
Howls. Cheers. Applause like thunder.
Someone popped a bottle of sparkling wine. The triplets screamed. Luna Cecil's face froze in place, somewhere between composure and disbelief.
Even Alpha Duskthorn's brows lifted half an inch.
I couldn't move.
Couldn't breathe.
Mera looked at me again, that same sugar-smile curling at her lips like a secret she planned years ago. She stepped forward and took my hand. Lifted it.
My palm was cold.
"Say something," Aspen urged from my father's side of the link.
"Smile. Be proud. She's carrying your heir."
My heir.
The word felt like a chain tightening around my throat.
Echo was silent. Then, finally, like frost cracking:
"She's not her."
"She never will be."
I forced a smile. Kissed Mera's temple.
Said all the things a good mate would say.
And inside?
I screamed.
Because I knew what this meant.
There was no going back now.
Not to Dwyn.
Not to who I was before I let myself be turned into a puppet.
Not even to myself.
A father.
To a child born of a bond I never wanted.
A child who might grow up wondering why his father's eyes were always somewhere else.