CHAPTER 4
1560 Words
ISLA
The moon shone down, silver and merciless, as I stepped toward my fate.
A slow, careful walk, my legs moving forward like they were carrying me to my own execution.
My gown—an intricate masterpiece of lace and silk—clung to my body like a cruel embrace, whispering mockery in my ears. A gown meant for a bride. For a Luna. But tonight, I was neither.
With each step, my eyes remained fixed on Luca.
The man I had loved, the man I had dreamed of spending my life with.
He stood tall at the altar, dressed in a finely tailored black suit that accentuated his powerful frame. His dark hair, thick and wavy, was styled back, revealing the sharp planes of his face—the same face I had once traced with my fingers in the dead of night, memorizing every line, every shadow.
I had loved him with everything I had.
And I was going to lose him tonight.
No. I already lost him.
A bitter lump formed in my throat, but I forced it down. I couldn’t let my emotions show. Not here. Not in front of them.
The entire pack had gathered, their whispers cutting through the crisp night air like daggers. Judging. Waiting.
And standing a few feet away from Luca was Rosie.
My so-called best friend.
She was dressed in a gown just as beautiful as mine, her golden curls cascading down her shoulders, her lips painted a perfect shade of red.
I let out a quiet, bitter scoff.
So that’s why she’s dressed so beautifully.
The realization made my stomach twist, but I forced myself to keep walking, even as my heart cracked with every step.
I had spent the past week avoiding Luca, enduring Vivienne’s punishments, and suffering my father’s silence. I had planned to run, to never show up tonight. But Vivienne had made sure I was here, dolled up like a lamb for s*******r.
And now, I would have to reject him.
I braced myself as I reached the altar, my fingers curling into fists at my sides. The rejection was on my lips, ready to shatter whatever was left between us.
But before I could utter a word, Luca’s voice rang through the night.
“I, Luca Romano, future Alpha of the Crescent Moon Pack, reject you, Isla Sinclair, as my mate.”
The world tilted.
For a second, I couldn’t breathe.
My mouth parted, but no words came.
Had I heard him correctly? Had he just…
Luca’s blue-gray eyes, once filled with warmth when they looked at me and held nothing but indifference. As if I was nothing.
Gasps echoed around us. The pack watched in stunned silence, drinking in the humiliation like it was their entertainment.
Rosie stepped closer, her lips twitching as she looked at me, but she didn’t say a word.
She didn’t need to.
I knew what this meant.
Luca had chosen her.
I forced out a hollow laugh, my voice shaking. “So, this was the plan all along?” I whispered, my eyes darting between him and Rosie. “You were going to betray me, then humiliate me in front of everyone?”
Luca’s jaw ticked, but he didn’t falter. “You were never meant to be my Luna, Isla.”
A sharp pain exploded in my chest, like a knife plunging deep. “You told me you loved me,” I breathed.
“I was mistaken.”
I sucked in a shaky breath, blinking rapidly against the sting in my eyes.
Mistaken?
Was that all I was? A mistake?
A dull, suffocating ache spread through me, but I squared my shoulders, forcing myself to stand tall. I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing me break.
I turned to leave, ready to walk away from this nightmare, when Luca’s voice cut through the night again.
“You are hereby dismissed and forbidden to return to the Romano mansion unless you ever become Luna.”
The air ripped from my lungs.
I whipped back around, my heart hammering against my ribs. “What?”
Luca’s expression remained cold. “You are no longer welcome here, Isla.”
A stunned silence fell over the crowd. Even some of the pack members looked uneasy, their whispers filled with uncertainty.
Forbidden?
After all the lies he fed? What the hell was going on?
I turned to my father, desperation clawing at my throat. “Dad, please—”
He stood in the crowd, silent, expression blank.
He did nothing. Said nothing.
Vivienne smirked beside him, her arms crossed in satisfaction.
I looked at the pack—the people I had grown up with. The people I had fought for, laughed with, loved.
No one spoke for me. No one fought for me.
The realization crashed over me like a tidal wave.
I was alone.
A sob tore from my chest, but I swallowed it back. I wouldn’t cry. Not here. Not in front of them.
I took a step back, then another. My head spun, the full weight of what was happening pressing down on me like a vice.
Luca turned away, already reaching for Rosie’s hand.
And just like that, it was over.
I staggered off the ceremonial platform, my dress heavy, suffocating. My legs carried me away, past the watching eyes, past the murmurs and sneers.
I didn’t stop.
The mate I had loved had chosen another.
The father I had trusted had abandoned me.
I was alone. Truly, utterly alone.
The moment I stepped out of that cursed ceremony, I knew one thing for sure—I wasn’t staying in the Red Moon Pack any longer.
If they wanted to get rid of me, I might as well help them out.
I marched back to the house I had spent my life in, my heart pounding with rage and heartbreak.
The pain of rejection still burned deep inside me, but I refused to cry. Not yet.
With shaking hands, I yanked open my closet and threw my clothes into a suitcase. I didn’t have much, just a few essentials and whatever savings I had managed to keep over the years. Not that it was much.
As I zipped up the suitcase, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My wedding dress was torn and sullied, the white fabric stained with dirt and humiliation.
I grabbed a pair of jeans and a hoodie, stripping out of the dress and tossing it into the corner. Let it rot. Just like my past.
Once I was done, I snatched my car keys and slipped out of the house like a ghost.
By the time I reached my car, my hands were trembling. I gripped the steering wheel tightly, taking one last look at the pack that had abandoned me.
Then I drove away, leaving it all behind.
Goodbye, Red Moon Pack. Hello, London.
I barely had enough money for a flight to London, but I bought the ticket anyway.
I didn’t know why I chose London. Maybe because it was far away and filled with more humans than werewolves. Maybe because I needed to be somewhere completely new.
By the time I landed, exhaustion weighed down on me. The airport was crowded and noisy.
I checked my wallet. The flight had drained almost everything I had.
Brilliant.
Now I was stranded in a foreign city, alone, with barely enough money to find a place to sleep.
I stepped out into the night, the cold London air biting at my skin. Street Lights flickered above, casting long shadows on the pavement.
I walked, my suitcase dragging behind me, searching for something, anything.
A cheap motel. A hostel. Anywhere I could lay my head for the night.
The streets were unfamiliar, winding and stretching into the darkness.
My body was heavy. My legs ached. But I kept walking.
I tried to call on my inner wolf for guidance and strength, but my body was already weakened.
The hunger, the exhaustion, the emotional wreckage—it was all catching up to me.
I stumbled forward until I neared a clear road.
Then, suddenly, I saw headlights.
Bright, blinding, shining straight at me.
Relief flooded my chest. A car. A person. Help.
I moved forward, ready to wave for help.
But before I could lift my hand, something darted in front of me.
A deer.
It came out of nowhere, its wild eyes flashing in the headlights.
Before I could react, the world tilted.
I hit the ground hard. My body crumpled like a ragdoll, pain exploding through my limbs.
Distantly, I heard the car screech to a halt.
The deer fled, its hooves pounding against the asphalt as it disappeared into the night.
Silly animal.
My vision swam, pain clouding my senses.
I could hear footsteps approaching. Steady, controlled. Purposeful.
The person walked majestically, his silhouette tall and imposing against the dim streetlights.
I tried to lift my head, but my strength was gone.
As he bent towards me, a rich scent filled my nostrils.
Sandalwood. A werewolf in London.
I fought to keep my eyes open, to catch a glimpse of him.
But nay. Darkness filled my eyes and the last thing I heard before I blanked out was his deep rich voice. Cold as ice.
“Do you want to die?"
- Writer
