Twisted Vows

The bruises didn’t always show. Sometimes they were on her skin. Other times, they were buried in her chest, under layers of silence and shattered pride. Ayla adjusted the sleeve of her ivory robe, hiding the purpling fingerprints on her arm with practiced ease. The bruises didn’t hurt anymore. Not physically. The pain had morphed into something deeper—something quiet and consuming. The grand windows of the Alpha’s manor stretched across the room like a gilded prison. Outside, the moon hung low, swollen with promise. Inside, it was just her… and the silence. She used to love the quiet. She used to sit by this very window, waiting for Darian to return from his patrols. Back when he touched her like she was made of glass, not bone. Back when he kissed her neck, not clenched it with rage. Now, the silence was her punishment. > The Luna is not supposed to cry. The Luna is not supposed to flinch. The Luna is not supposed to speak unless spoken to. Ayla was the Luna of the Silverfang Pack, but she felt like a ghost wrapped in silk. She heard the heavy footsteps before he even entered. Darian’s scent hit her first—cedarwood, smoke, and power. Her wolf curled inward. Submissive. Afraid. “Still staring out the window?” His voice was cool, emotionless. She didn’t turn. “You’re back early.” “I canceled the patrol,” he said casually, tossing his jacket onto the nearest chair like he owned everything in the room—including her. “No threat. Just more complaints from the neighboring clans about rogue sightings.” She turned slowly, meeting his eyes. “What do they want?” He gave a half-shrug. “A meeting. But I’ll send Kael. Let him play messenger boy.” Her throat tightened. Kael. That name hadn’t been spoken in this house for over a year. Not since he left—exiled by choice, rejected by blood, forgotten by force. Her heart thudded once, painfully. “You’d trust Kael with something so important?” “I trust him to follow orders,” Darian said darkly. “Even an Omega knows his place.” She wanted to scream. Kael had never been weak. He’d chosen peace over power. Loyalty over pride. He’d walked away so Darian wouldn’t have to kill his own brother. But Darian’s pride couldn’t let that go. “You look pale,” Darian said suddenly, eyes narrowing as he approached. “Are you sick?” “I’m fine.” She took a step back without realizing it. He noticed. His eyes flashed. “Don’t pull away from me.” “I wasn’t—” He grabbed her wrist. Not hard, not soft. Just enough to remind her who he was. Who she belonged to. “You’re mine, Ayla,” he murmured, his lips brushing her cheek like a promise wrapped in a threat. “Don’t forget that.” > I wish I could. --- The next day brought clouds. The annual Moonlight Gathering was set to begin, a time when packs united under truce, celebrated the bonds of blood and matehood, and honored their Alphas. Ayla stood by the mirror as the handmaid laced her silver gown. “You look beautiful, Luna,” the girl whispered. Ayla nodded, offering a faint smile. She didn’t feel beautiful. She felt hollow. She wondered if Kael would be there. > Stop it. He’s gone. You’re Darian’s mate. You chose this. You let the bond seal. But she hadn’t known. Not really. She hadn’t known what kind of Alpha Darian would become… or how much it would hurt to lose Kael. --- The gathering shimmered with lights and music. Alphas and Lunas from every pack lined the courtyard. Laughter floated in the air, but Ayla heard none of it. Her eyes scanned the crowd out of instinct, her wolf restless, her soul twitching. Then… she saw him. He stood just beyond the lanterns, near the treeline. Alone. Brooding. Beautiful. Kael. He was taller than she remembered. Broader. His dark hair was longer now, falling over his brow. A faint scar split his bottom lip. His black tunic clung to his frame like a second skin. Her breath caught. Kael’s eyes locked on hers the moment she looked. It wasn’t just recognition. It was lightning. It was everything she’d tried to forget. --- Kael hadn’t meant to come to the Moonlight Gathering. The invitation had been ceremonial. A dig, really. Darian knew Kael wouldn’t refuse—too proud to let the pack see him as weak. Too bound by duty to cause a scene. But seeing Ayla again? That hadn’t been part of the plan. He stepped into the gathering’s edge, flanked by warriors and nobodies, just a shadow with a name. An Omega by title. A ghost by choice. And then he saw her. Ayla. Wearing silver like moonlight, her hair twisted into a crown, her eyes wide and sad and so very familiar. His chest burned. She looked like a queen. And a prisoner. Kael’s fists clenched. He knew what Darian had become. He’d heard the whispers. Seen the bruises on others. But not Ayla. Not her. He took a step forward. And then Darian appeared. --- Alpha Darian Silverfang wore power like a mantle. Everything about him screamed dominance—from the tilt of his chin to the way his warriors stepped aside without being told. He walked to Ayla, wrapped an arm around her waist, and kissed her temple possessively. Kael stopped moving. Ayla didn’t flinch, but her body stilled like a cornered doe. Darian turned then, eyes scanning the crowd until they landed on his brother. A slow smile stretched across his face. “Brother,” he said, loud enough to carry. “Didn’t expect you’d show.” Kael gave a curt nod. “You invited me.” “Didn’t think you had the spine to stand in the presence of a real Alpha anymore.” A few warriors chuckled nervously. Kael said nothing. Darian’s eyes flicked to Ayla, then back to him. “She’s still mine, you know.” Kael’s voice was calm, cold. “She was never yours.” Silence. Ayla’s heart stopped. The courtyard held its breath. Then Darian laughed. A loud, hollow sound. “Careful, little brother. That mouth of yours might get you killed one day.” Kael stepped closer, just enough. “Try it.” The tension was electric. Two brothers—one bonded to power, the other to honor—staring each other down under a blood-moon sky. Then Ayla spoke, her voice soft but cutting. “Stop it. Both of you.” They turned toward her. Her eyes were on Kael. “Why did you come back?” Kael looked at her, really looked. “Because I heard you were breaking,” he said. “And I couldn’t stay away.” --- Later that night, Ayla sat alone on the balcony, away from the noise, away from Darian. Her fingers trembled as she touched the edge of the wine glass. She hadn’t drunk it. Not tonight. Not when her head was already too full of memories. Kael had looked at her like she still mattered. And that was dangerous. > Because she did matter to him once. Maybe still. She felt the shift in the air before he arrived. “I shouldn’t be here,” Kael said behind her. She didn’t turn. “Then leave.” But he didn’t. He stepped closer, slow, cautious. “Are you safe?” he asked quietly. She gripped the balcony edge. “What does it matter?” “It matters to me.” Silence. “I can’t protect you if you lie to me, Ayla.” “You can’t protect me at all,” she whispered. Kael’s hand brushed her shoulder. Just once. A ghost of a touch. She didn’t move away. “I’ll fight him,” he said. “You’ll die.” “Maybe. But I’d rather die trying than watch him break you.” She turned then, eyes full of fire and grief. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Kael.” “I never broke the last one.” Her lips trembled. “Then why did you leave?” “Because if I hadn’t, I would’ve ripped his throat out when I saw the bond mark on your neck.” Silence again. This time louder. She looked away, tears slipping down her cheeks. “I loved you,” she whispered. He swallowed hard. “I still do.”