I don't know how long I sat there after Damon left.
Minutes. Hours. Time lost all meaning in the suffocating silence of the hut. My mind replayed every moment—Damon's hurt eyes, his cracked voice, the door closing behind him with a finality that felt like death.
He knew. After all the secrecy, all the stolen moments, all the desperate attempts to hide—he knew.
And I had no one to blame but myself.
When I finally moved, it was because Marta came looking for me. She found me still sitting on the bed, still in my nightclothes, staring at nothing.
"Luna?" Her voice was gentle, concerned. "Are you unwell?"
I looked up at her, and something in my expression must have frightened her, because she crossed quickly to my side.
"What happened? Is it Alpha? Is he hurt?"
"No." My voice was a ras
