The sun rose pale and thin, barely cutting through the mist that clung to the Crescent Fang lands. Nicole stood at the balcony rail outside her chambers, a steaming mug of tea warming her hands. Below, she could see the courtyard beginning to stir — warriors heading toward the training grounds, hunters gathering bows and quivers, pups darting between the cabins, their laughter bright in the early morning air.
It should have been comforting. This was the rhythm she'd nurtured during Brian's absence, the steady heartbeat of the pack.
But the air felt… different now.
She caught it in the way a pair of she-wolves glanced up, spotted her, and immediately turned their heads to whisper to each other. In the way two warriors stiffened, almost imperceptibly, when she called down a greeting. It was subtle, but her instincts — honed from years of reading the pack's mood — told her this wasn't random.
Her eyes followed the source.
Down by the stables, Aria stood beside Brian, one delicate hand resting on the neck of a young mare. They were laughing at something, Aria's amber eyes shining. Nicole couldn't hear the words, but the cadence of Brian's laugh was unmistakable. She'd once thought it was her favorite sound in the world.
The memory hit without warning.
Flashback — Four Years Ago
The moon had been high and bright that night, casting silver light across the training yard. Nicole leaned against the wooden fence, arms folded, watching Brian take on three of their best warriors at once. His bare arms flexed, his chest rose and fell with each breath, and the grin on his face was pure challenge.
"You're showing off," she called.
He threw one opponent over his shoulder and glanced at her with mock offense. "For you? Always."
She rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress her smile. He'd been Alpha for just two years then, still unshakably certain of their future. When the last warrior yielded, Brian strode toward her, sweat glistening on his skin.
"Come on," he said, vaulting the fence to stand in front of her. "Your turn."
"I'm not sparring with you," she said, laughing. "I've seen what you do to your opponents."
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "I'd never hurt you, Nicole. I'd protect you until my last breath."
She'd believed him completely.
When he kissed her then, under the moonlight, it had felt like a promise carved into the stars.
The sound of Aria's laugh snapped Nicole back to the present like a whip crack.
She set her mug down and turned away from the view. There was work to do — reports to check, border patrol schedules to adjust — but for the first time in years, the tasks felt heavier.
By midday, she had her answer. The whispers weren't in her head.
She'd stopped by the training grounds to deliver a note to Caleb, only to overhear two young warriors talking near the edge.
"—guess it's true, the Moon Goddess really did choose Aria for him," one said.
"Of course she did," the other replied. "Did you see them together last night? The bond's obvious. Makes you wonder why Nicole's still Luna."
The words slid under her skin like a blade. She stepped into view, and both warriors paled, bowing quickly before hurrying off without another word.
Nicole's grip on the rolled parchment tightened until it crumpled.
Caleb appeared from the sparring circle, catching her expression immediately. "What happened?"
"Nothing," she said shortly, handing him the note.
But Caleb wasn't fooled. His gaze flicked to where the warriors had been and back to her. "It's starting, isn't it?"
She didn't answer.
That evening, a formal dinner was held in the smaller council hall — just the senior pack members, Brian, Nicole, and now Aria. The long table felt more cramped than usual, tension coiling beneath every polite smile.
Halfway through the meal, a councilor named Dorian — one of the oldest and most respected wolves — turned to Aria with a warm smile.
"You must feel the Moon's pull strongly, my dear. Tell us, how has the bond with our Alpha changed him?"
Nicole's jaw tightened, but she kept her gaze fixed on her plate.
Aria tilted her head in a show of modesty. "Brian is… more complete now," she said softly. "I think even he feels it. The Moon Goddess's will has a way of making everything fall into place."
Nicole heard the unspoken words as clearly as if Aria had shouted them: I am what he was meant to have.
Brian chuckled, his arm brushing Aria's as he reached for his glass. "She's not wrong."
Nicole set her fork down with deliberate care. "Excuse me," she murmured, rising from the table.
No one stopped her.
Outside in the cool night air, she let herself breathe. The voices from the hall dulled to a faint hum, the scent of pine and earth grounding her. But beneath the steady rhythm of the crickets and rustling leaves, she could hear the truth:
The whispers had started.
And if she didn't find the source, they would only grow louder.
Nicole's steps slowed as she turned down the long, shadowed corridor that led to the east wing of the pack house. Voices floated toward her—one low and familiar, the other high and melodic. Brian's voice. And… Aria's.
"…it's different now," Aria was saying softly, her tone threaded with something that made Nicole's stomach knot. "You can't deny the bond. You feel it too, don't you?"
Nicole froze just before the bend in the hallway, every nerve standing on edge.
Brian's voice came, lower, almost reluctant. "It's not that simple, Aria."
"Why?" she pressed. "Because of her? You're holding back because of… Nicole?"
Silence.
Nicole's chest constricted painfully. The pause stretched so long she thought she might go mad with it.
Then Brian murmured something she couldn't quite catch—soft, intimate, like a secret meant only for Aria. Aria's quiet laugh followed, the sound sharp as claws dragging across Nicole's heart.
Her palms went cold. Without thinking, she backed away, her footfalls as silent as she could manage. She didn't need to hear more. She already felt the truth wrapping around her throat like a noose.
That evening, the council meeting was held in the grand hall—a room Nicole had once loved for its towering windows and warm, golden wood. Now, with Aria seated at Brian's side, it felt more like a battlefield.
Nicole sat at the head table, her posture perfect, her chin lifted. She wore the Luna's crest on her shoulder like armor, though it weighed more than it had ever done before.
"We need to reorganize the patrol routes," Elder Harlin said, his gaze sliding not to her, but to Aria. "Given the rogue activity near the northern border, perhaps… a fresh perspective is in order."
"I agree," Aria said smoothly before Nicole could speak. "I noticed yesterday that the guards near the river seem lax. I could personally oversee a new schedule—if that's acceptable."
It was the way she said it—soft, deferential on the surface, but laced with the implication that Nicole had failed in her duty.
Nicole leaned forward. "The patrol routes are my responsibility. I will review them myself and make adjustments as necessary."
A few council members shifted uncomfortably. All eyes slid toward Brian.
He said nothing.
Once upon a time, he would have defended her without hesitation.
Flashback — Two Years Ago
The same grand hall, but filled with the warm scent of pine and firewood. A younger Nicole stood before the council, her heart pounding as Elder Varrick accused her of overstepping by negotiating with a neighboring pack without approval.
"She acted outside her authority," Varrick barked. "That's not the role of a Luna."
Before Nicole could speak, Brian's voice rang out. "She acted in the best interest of this pack. And she is my Luna. Her voice carries as much weight as mine."
The memory shimmered with warmth—the fierce glint in his eyes, the pride in his stance. That man had felt like home.
The meeting ended with polite farewells, but Nicole walked out with her knuckles aching from how tightly she'd clenched her hands. The corridors felt colder than usual, shadows pooling in the corners.
On her way back to her chambers, she stopped when she saw a familiar face—Rina, one of her oldest friends in the pack, a woman who had once been her shadow at every gathering.
"Rina," Nicole greeted, relief threading her voice. "It's been too long. How have you been?"
Rina glanced around, her smile thin and hesitant. "I've… been fine. Busy."
"Busy?" Nicole repeated, trying to keep her tone light. "You used to practically live in my kitchen."
Rina's gaze darted away. "Things change, Nicole."
Nicole swallowed, the words cutting deeper than they should have. She had the sudden, terrible feeling that the pack she had poured her soul into was slipping through her fingers, grain by grain.
That night, sleep refused to come. She lay in bed, the moonlight spilling over her sheets, every sound of the pack house amplified—the distant footsteps in the hall, the creak of old wood.
The door to the adjoining room opened softly.
She stilled.
Brian's silhouette appeared in the moonlight. She thought, for one brief, desperate second, that he'd come to her.
Instead, he crossed the room without looking her way, picked up a few papers from his desk, and left—closing the door quietly behind him.
No glance. No word. No acknowledgment that she existed.
Nicole stared at the door long after it closed, the cold pressing in around her
until she thought she might break apart.
Tomorrow, she decided, would be different.
Nicole had just finished her duties for the evening when the low murmur of voices drifted from the corridor leading to Brian's study.
Her steps faltered.
She knew that tone.
It was the softer version of Brian's voice—the one he used when he wanted someone to feel cherished.
"…you shouldn't worry," he was saying. "You're where you belong now."
Aria's laugh floated through the air, light and intimate, like they'd been sharing secrets for years instead of weeks.
Nicole's pulse thudded in her ears. She shouldn't listen. The Moon Goddess knew she didn't want to. But her feet felt glued to the spot.
"It's just… hard," Aria said, her words laced with a trembling sweetness. "I can feel the bond pulling me toward you, and yet… I know I'm a disruption."
"You're not a disruption," Brian's voice deepened, warm in a way that had once been meant for Nicole. "You're fate."
The word sliced through her like a blade. Fate. As if everything they'd built, every vow, every night spent side by side, was nothing compared to this cosmic accident.
Nicole stepped back, forcing air into her lungs, and turned away before she could hear another syllable.
The next day, the pack council convened in the great hall.
Sunlight poured through the high windows, catching in the silver embroidery of the banners that hung behind her chair—her chair as Luna.
She held her chin high as the elders debated patrol routes and border tensions, pretending not to notice Aria gliding into the room late, dressed in flowing white that made her look almost ethereal. She took the empty seat beside Brian, offering him a smile as if they shared some private joke.
It was subtle at first—tiny interjections, the kind that sounded helpful on the surface.
"Perhaps," Aria said with an apologetic shrug, "Nicole's plan is too… ambitious for the patrol's current strength."
A few council members shifted in their seats. Nicole forced herself to keep her expression neutral.
Brian didn't defend her. Not once.
Instead, he nodded thoughtfully, as though Aria's observation was sage advice.
And in that moment, the memory hit—unbidden.
Flashback
Three years ago, when the council had doubted her decision to open the pack's borders to struggling rogues, Brian had stood beside her, unyielding.
"My Luna speaks for me," he'd said back then, his voice ringing through the hall. "And if any of you think you know the needs of this pack better than she does, you're welcome to challenge me directly."
She'd loved him so fiercely in that moment, convinced that together they could weather anything.
Now, as she sat in the same hall, the space between them felt colder than winter.
By nightfall, she needed fresh air. She wandered the training grounds, hoping to find at least one friendly face.
"Evening, Luna," one of the younger warriors mumbled, eyes sliding past her toward the shadows where Aria stood speaking with others.
Another pack mate—a woman who had once joined Nicole for weekly runs—barely inclined her head before hurrying away.
It was like watching sand slip through her fingers. The harder she tried to hold on to her place here, the more it seemed to crumble.
Later, when she returned to their chambers, she found Brian's side of the bed untouched.
A folded note lay on her pillow in his sharp, confident handwriting:
Don't wait up. Staying in the guest wing tonight—Aria isn't feeling well.
Nicole sat on the edge of the bed, the paper trembling in her hands. Not from the words themselves, but from what they didn't say.
He hadn't asked if she was feeling well.
He hadn't noticed that she hadn't eaten dinner.
He hadn't noticed her at all.
Somewhere deep inside, something began to splinter.
The days that followed blurred together.
Nicole would wake before sunrise, tend to her Luna duties with meticulous precision, and try not to notice the empty space beside her in bed each morning.
Brian wasn't cruel. That might have been easier to endure.
He was… polite. Civil. The way a king might treat a former queen who had fallen out of favor but still held a title.
If he touched her at all, it was in passing—a hand on her shoulder when he walked by, a brief nod when she presented her reports. Never the lingering warmth she had once known.
Aria, meanwhile, moved through the pack grounds like she had been born to them. Warriors opened doors for her. Mothers in the nursery smiled at her. She was careful, clever. She never spoke ill of Nicole directly. Instead, she offered "suggestions" in Brian's presence—each one framed as if Nicole's decisions were too ambitious, too outdated, or simply not in the pack's best interest.
It was during the midweek patrol briefing that Nicole felt the first sharp crack in her composure.
Brian stood at the head of the long table, sleeves rolled to his elbows, leaning over the map. "We'll split the western patrols into two smaller units," he said. "That way we can cover the area more efficiently."
Nicole frowned. "We've always kept them as one group for safety. Two smaller units risk being outnumbered if rogues cross the border."
"Unless," Aria chimed in from the far end of the table, "those smaller units are each led by an Alpha-ranked wolf."
Brian nodded, not even glancing Nicole's way. "Exactly. Good thinking, Aria."
It was the exact suggestion Nicole had made three weeks ago—one Brian had dismissed outright.
That night, she stood by the window in their shared quarters, staring at the moon's pale light spilling over the training field.
She remembered when Brian used to come to her after meetings like that, tugging her close, murmuring in her ear: We make a good team, don't we, Luna?
Now there was only silence.
The silence followed her into the formal gathering two nights later—a celebration of the pack's alliance renewal with the neighboring Silver Fang wolves.
The great hall gleamed under chandeliers, silver trays laden with food, goblets brimming with wine. Pack members stood in clusters, laughter and conversation filling the air.
Nicole descended the main staircase in a deep green gown, the color chosen to match the pack's banner. She wore her Luna crown, the silver circlet Brian had placed on her head during their bonding ceremony.
Halfway down the steps, she froze.
Brian stood at the base of the stairs, speaking to Alpha Dorian of the Silver Fang pack. Aria was beside him, her hand lightly brushing his arm as she laughed at something Dorian said.
When Brian introduced them to the gathered guests, his words sliced her cleanly in half.
"This is Aria," he said, his voice warm, "a trusted member of our inner circle."
Not Luna Nicole, my mate.
Not even our Luna.
When Nicole reached them, Dorian smiled politely and inclined his head. "Your pack is fortunate to have such… loyal women by your side, Alpha Brian."
Brian smiled faintly. "Yes. I'm lucky."
Nicole swallowed the lump in her throat and forced a graceful smile, but her grip on her wine glass tightened until her knuckles ached.
Later, as the festivities wound down, Nicole slipped out into the cool night air. The distant sound of laughter floated from the hall, but she needed the quiet.
Her quiet didn't last.
"…she's a good Luna, Brian," someone said from around the corner. Aria's voice, low and coaxing. "But she's not your Luna. Not anymore."
Brian's voice came softer, but she heard it anyway. "Don't say that, Aria. It's… complicated."
"I don't think it is," Aria murmured. "You deserve to be with the one the Moon Goddess chose for you. And you know she's not that person."
Silence stretched. Nicole strained to hear the denial she prayed for.
It never came.
She stood there in the shadows, her chest tight, her fingers trembling—not with grief this time, but with something darker.
She would not beg for scraps of affection. She would not fade quietly into the background while another woman rewrote her story.
Nicole turned on her heel, walking away from the sound of their voices. The crown on her head felt heavier than ever, but her spine was straight.
If Brian couldn't see her worth, she would remind him.
Not with tears. Not with pleading.
But with strength.
And in that moment, the first spark of defiance ignited.
The corridor seemed narrower with every step, the walls pressing in as if the very heart of the packhouse was conspiring to crush her. Nicole could still hear the echo of Brian's voice in the great hall, low and warm as he introduced her—his supposed fated mate—to the gathered wolves. That voice used to belong to her alone. Now it felt like a knife sliding between her ribs.
She reached the stairs that led up to her private wing, only to find two pack members lingering there—wolves she had once trained beside, healed after hunts, comforted after losses. Their eyes skittered away from hers like guilty children caught stealing. No smile. No greeting. Just the silent acknowledgment that things had changed, and not in her favor.
"Nicole."
She turned, half expecting Brian, half dreading it. But it was Kara, one of the senior she-wolves, her arms folded tightly, a frown etched into her features. "I heard what happened in the hall. You should tread carefully. Things are… shifting."
Nicole almost laughed at the understatement. "Shifting?" she repeated. "You mean my husband parading another woman through the pack house like she's—" Her voice cracked. She swallowed the rest.
Kara's gaze softened just a fraction. "I mean people are watching to see what you'll do. You're still Luna, but…" She trailed off, and the silence said more than words.
Nicole's throat burned. "But they're wondering if I'll still be Luna by the end of the week."
Kara didn't deny it.
Nicole nodded once, the movement sharp, decisive. "Let them wonder." She walked past, refusing to let Kara see the way her hands shook.
Upstairs, her chambers were exactly as she had left them, but they felt different—like the air was heavier, tainted by the scent she now realized clung faintly to the walls. That woman's scent. Nicole's fingers curled into fists. How dare she? How dare he bring her into their home, into the space they had built together?
She walked to the mirror, studying the reflection of a Luna who no longer looked the same. Her hair was pinned, her gown still perfect, but her eyes—those betrayed her. They were raw, red-rimmed, tired in a way she had never been before.
"I was everything you asked for," she whispered to the empty room. "And you threw me away for a bond you swore wouldn't matter."
The door creaked behind her. Nicole didn't need to turn to know who it was.
"Nicole," Brian's voice filled the chamber, deep and controlled, as if he had a right to speak to her in that tone.
She turned slowly, every muscle in her body taut. "You have some nerve walking in here after what you did downstairs."
He sighed, stepping inside, closing the door as though they were discussing something private—intimate. "I told you, I didn't expect this to happen. Fate doesn't ask permission, Nicole. You know that."
"Fate?" Her laugh was bitter, sharp. "You're blaming this on the Moon Goddess? Don't you dare hide behind her name. You made vows to me, Brian. You swore that no matter who your so-called fated mate was, you'd stand by me. That was your choice."
His jaw clenched. "And I'm still standing by you. Nothing has to change between us."
Her eyes widened in disbelief. "Nothing has to change? You brought her here! You spend more time with her than with me. You—" She broke off, shaking her head. "You can't have us both, Brian. You can't have me and parade her around like some prize you just claimed."
His eyes darkened, the Alpha in him surfacing. "Careful, Nicole. The pack doesn't take well to a Luna questioning her Alpha in public."
The warning hit like a slap. Once, his dominance had been a source of pride, a shield she leaned on. Now it felt like a cage tightening around her.
Nicole straightened, meeting his gaze without flinching. "Maybe they should see what kind of Alpha you've become."
For a heartbeat, silence stretched between them. Then Brian stepped closer, his voice low. "You're angry now, but in time you'll see—this doesn't have to destroy us."
She stared at him, and in that moment, she realized something with startling clarity. This was already destroying them.
Nicole turned away from him, moving toward the balcony doors. The moon hung heavy and low outside, casting silver light across the room. It should have been beautiful, but all she saw was the cold reflection of her life now—still, silent, and on the verge of breaking.
"I'm not angry, Brian," she said finally, her voice steady but stripped of warmth. "Anger would mean I still expect something from you. This… this is different."
He took another step toward her. "Nicole—"
"No." She raised her hand, cutting him off without looking back. "You made your choice the moment you brought her here. The moment you stood in front of the pack and acted like I didn't exist."
"You do exist," he argued, his tone tight. "You're still my Luna."
She turned then, and the look in her eyes made him falter. "No, Brian. I'm your Luna in title only. You've already given the rest of it away."
The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating. Nicole could feel the space between them yawning wider with every breath.
Finally, she walked past him, her perfume mingling for just an instant with his scent—one last reminder of what they'd been. She stopped at the door and rested her hand on the handle.
"I won't fight for a place you've already decided doesn't belong to me," she said quietly. "But don't think for a second I'm going to fade into the background and make this easy for you. You may have forgotten who I am, Brian, but I haven't."
She opened the door and stepped out, closing it behind her with a quiet click that somehow sounded louder than a slammed door.
The corridor was empty now. Good. She didn't want witnesses to the way her legs shook, to the way her heart pounded—not from love, but from the first stirrings of something far more dangerous.
Not grief.
Not anger.
Resolve.
Nicole kept walking, the weight of her gown trailing behind her like the last remnants of the life she'd just left behind.