The Alpha's Shadow Luna

Chapter 5

I stared at the package in my lap, thumbs worrying at the waxed twine I’d used to tie it. The string was navy blue, matched to the scraps of velvet I’d scavenged from the sewing box. I’d wanted it to look neat, dignified, like something you’d be proud to unwrap in front of the whole pack. Instead, under the dim morning light that filtered through my window, it looked small, like the gift of a child. I couldn’t stop picking at the knot. If I fussed with it much longer, there’d be nothing left to give but lint.

The pendant inside was a wolf, hand-carved from an aspen tree that we use to go on dates by. I’d spent every spare hour after training in secret, sanding and shaping, until the curves of the snout and the grain of the fur matched the way I’d always pictured Shane’s other form: lean, proud, strong. The loop at the top was silver wire, and I’d etched our pack symbol into the belly of the wolf with a sewing needle. It was a stupid, sentimental thing, but I’d made it for him. I’d made it already knowing that he was going to be the winner of the hunt, this was a private token that he could wear when he was out there in the wild, something to remind him that I was here and I cared about him.

I held the bundle at chest height, trying out ways to present it. The first few attempts were disasters … my face was too eager. I tried again, this time softening my eyes while looking in the mirror, letting my mouth relax into something gentler. It looked better, but still not right. I tried to imagine what it would be like to walk up to Shane in front of everyone, hand him the package, and watch his expression. Would he be surprised? Touched? Would he finally, finally see me, and not just the shadow standing two steps behind Mary?

I pulled my hair back, then let it down again, I tucked the ends behind my ears. I debated whether to change out of my training clothes, but every option felt wrong. Too formal, and it would look like I was trying too hard. Too casual, and I’d look like I didn’t care. I settled on my best gray sweater, the one with the subtle cable pattern that made my arms look longer, sleeker. I could do this. For once, I wanted something to go right. After all, Shane was engaged to me. He must care about me.

The hunt had been a blur. Shane had barely looked at me, his attention fixed on the line of runners ahead. When the kill came, he was at the front of the pack, teeth bared and triumphant, and I was on the sidelines, forced to be a spectator even though I had trained for a spot. I’d told myself it didn’t matter, that I’d get my chance another time. Our pack's tradition for the day after the hunt was gifts for the Alpha, and for the pack’s champion. This year, that meant Shane.

The main hall was already crowded when I arrived. The floor was packed with bodies and the room was loud with chatter and excitement. The air was thick with roasting meat, yeast, the sharp scent of pine, and the sweet smell of cakes. Laughter and shouts overlapped in waves, a rising tide that threatened to drown out my thoughts. I pressed the packaged pendant to my chest, felt the edges dig into my palm, and slipped along the wall, avoiding the press of elbows and the slap of hands on backs.

Shane was at the head table, flanked by the senior runners and a couple of the older wolves who’d retired from active hunting. He looked bored, fingers drumming a restless tattoo on the scarred tabletop, eyes scanning the room for someone more interesting than the old-timers rehashing glory days beside him. When he spotted me, his face didn’t change. Not a flicker, not a nod. It was as if I were just another piece of the scenery, a chair, or a candle guttering out.

I stood at the edge of the table, clutching the bundle. The conversation died around me. I forced my feet to move, just the three steps to close the gap between me and Shane. The world telescoped down to the length of my arm, the gift in my outstretched fingers. My mouth was dry, but I managed to speak. “For you,” I said. My voice was soft, but the silence magnified it, made it sound like I was shouting.

Shane’s gaze flicked from my face to the package, then back. He took it, weighed it in his hand, and started untying the string. The velvet fell away, and the wolf pendant gleamed for a second in the lamplight, the etched sigil catching a spark of silver. I waited for something … a smile, a thank you, anything that would make the last month of carving and sanding worth it.

Instead, he held the pendant up by its cord, twisting it so the light played across the wood. He looked at it the way you might look at a bug trapped in amber, curiosity without affection. Then he let it drop to the table. “I don’t need trinkets, Leah,” he said. The words hit me like a slap. “You should focus on your runs, not on this … arts-and-crafts.”

A ripple of laughter ran through the nearby packmates, but not everyone joined in. Some of them just watched, mouths tight, eyes darting between me and the pendant lying limp on the table. I wanted to snatch it up, to hide it, but my hands were frozen. My cheeks burned hotter than fire, hotter than any shame I’d ever known before.

“I thought you’d like it,” I managed, my voice turning thin. “I made it from—”

Shane didn’t bother looking at me. “I don’t need an ornament that looks like it was made by a child,” he said, dismissing me with a flick of his hand. “Next time, save the wood for the fire.”

I stood there, arms limp at my sides, the whole hall stretching out in a tunnel of noise and light and pointed stares. Someone near the hearth whistled, and the knot of warriors at the next table started up a new, louder round of toasts, as if to blot out my embarrassment.

The pendant lay on the table, a dead thing. I wanted to reach for it, but my legs wouldn’t move. Instead he picked it up and shoved it in my hands. As if he were too disgusted to even look at it. My chest felt caved-in, every breath scraping past the splinters of what was left of my pride.