Marked By The Four

Chapter 6 - The Gathering and Rejection

The great hall of the Moonclaws pack was dressed in splendor, a show of strength and pride for the visiting betas and their escorts. Chandeliers glowed with soft amber light, dripping golden warmth across polished tables groaning with roasted meats, overflowing platters of bread and fruit, pitchers of wine glistening like rubies. The room hummed with the voices of my pack, laughter mixing with the crackle of fire in the hearth.

It was supposed to feel like home. My kingdom. My family.

But tonight, every flicker of torchlight seemed to throw shadows instead of warmth. Every laugh had a crack in it, every smile a whisper of unease.

When I entered, silence spread like a ripple across the crowd. I wasn’t wearing the silks they expected. No glittering gown, no Luna’s crown or polished jewels. Instead: fitted black trousers that hugged my frame, boots that carried no hesitation, a blouse with slashed sleeves and a long leather jacket draped like armor across my shoulders. At my throat, crimson silk - my mother’s scarf.

Their eyes widened. Some whispered. Some looked away. But a few - just a few - straightened with something that looked like pride.

At the high table, Varrick turned his head. His jaw flexed, lips pulling back in the kind of smile that never touched his eyes.

“My Luna,” he said, voice carrying like a drumbeat through the hall. “You decided to join us.”

“I did,” I answered, taking my place beside him. My voice did not waver.

He leaned closer, his breath warm against my ear as the room resumed its chatter. “Did you forget the crown tonight?”

I turned to face him, my smile cool as steel. “No. I didn’t.”

He smirked, leaning back, raising his goblet high. “To the Moonclaws! To strength, loyalty, and unity.”

The room erupted in cheers, goblets lifted, voices echoing his toast. I raised my own cup, sipped the wine, and let its sweetness coat my tongue like poison.

For a while, I played my part. I smiled at the omegas who shyly approached me with thanks for kindnesses past. I bent to listen to a child whispering about his training, promising to watch him spar one day soon. I even allowed Aldric a dance when the musicians struck a tune, his hand warm against mine, his admiration hidden in the set of his jaw and the steadiness of his gaze.

But when I returned to my seat, I caught sight of her.

The omega. The one who had shared my mate’s bed while I slept alone. She carried a tray of goblets, her movements careful, her eyes quick. When they met mine, she did not look away. Instead, her lips curved - not into a smile, but into something sharper.

A smirk.

The wine in my goblet no longer tasted sweet.

I placed it down carefully, my fingers steady despite the storm clawing at my chest. Around me, voices rose in laughter, forks clattered, the musicians swelled into a jubilant song. Varrick was the loudest among them, his laugh booming, his hand gripping the shoulder of a visiting beta as if the world belonged to him.

But it didn’t. Not anymore.

I rose to my feet.

At first, no one noticed. Then silence spread, one voice after another dropping away until all eyes turned toward me. Even the musicians faltered, strings and flutes trailing into nothing.

Varrick glanced up, startled, then smirked again. “My Luna would speak,” he said, his voice echoing through the hall. “Surely she means to bless us tonight.”

“Yes,” I said, lifting my chin. “I will.”

The silence deepened. My voice carried steady and strong, honed by years of leading feasts, soothing quarrels, commanding respect. But this time, the weight in my words was different.

“I want to thank you,” I began, sweeping my gaze across the hall. “All of you. My pack. My family. You have honored me, trusted me, allowed me to serve you. You have given me purpose and pride, and for that, I am grateful.”

Murmurs stirred, uneasy.

“But tonight,” I continued, my hand curling into a fist at my side, “I end my service.”

Gasps broke out like cracks in glass. The visiting betas exchanged sharp looks. Aldric stiffened where he stood at the edge of the room, his hand tightening on the back of a chair.

Varrick laughed, a harsh sound. “What nonsense is this?”

I turned to him, my voice a blade cutting clean through the air.

“I, Evelynn, Luna of the Moonclaws, reject you, Varrick, as my mate and Alpha - from now until the rest of my life.”

The room froze. No one moved. No one breathed.

“Now you may have your mistress openly,” I said, my eyes locking on his, daring him to deny it. “I know my worth, and I will not look at this and smile to the world.”

Varrick surged to his feet, fury flashing across his face, but I didn’t stop. My wolf howled through me, pouring steel into my spine, fire into my words.

“Dear,” I said softly, almost lovingly, “I think I deserve more.”

Then I let the final strike fall.

“I reject you. Completely. Irrevocably. The bond is broken.”

It hit like lightning. A snap in my chest, searing pain ripping through my veins. My knees trembled, but I did not fall. I forced myself upright, my chin lifted, my body shaking but unbroken.

Varrick staggered back with a choked cry. His goblet fell, wine spilling like blood across the table. He clutched at his chest, gasping, then collapsed to his knees on the stone floor.

The hall erupted into chaos. Voices shouting, chairs scraping, gasps and cries. The omega dropped her tray, goblets shattering, her smirk finally gone. Aldric’s eyes blazed, locked on me as if he were seeing me for the first time.

I reached for the Luna’s pendant at my throat. The chain snapped easily, metal clattering against the floor. The sound echoed like a death knell.

“I am not your Luna,” I said into the stunned silence. “Not anymore.”

I turned, leather jacket swirling around me, and walked toward the doors.

Behind me, Varrick howled, a sound of pain and rage that rattled the very stone. But I didn’t look back. Not once.

Because I was already free.

The packhouse doors slammed shut behind me, muting the chaos inside. Cool night air rushed over my face, sharp and bracing. My boots struck the stone path in even strides as I crossed to the black sedan waiting in the drive.

The satchel slid into the passenger seat with a satisfying weight. My fingers curled around the steering wheel, steady, certain, as if they had always belonged there.

The engine roared to life, drowning out Varrick’s distant howl. I drove through the gates without looking back, the shadows of the forest swallowing the pack lands behind me.

Ahead, the long highway stretched into darkness. And far in the distance, cutting through the night like a promise, a neon sign glowed red: a roadside bar.

I pressed harder on the gas. Toward whiskey. Toward anonymity. Toward whatever came next.