The Alpha's Shadow Luna

Chapter 4

I looked at him, searching for any trace of the boy I’d once known. He looked back, eyes softer than before, almost apologetic.

“You know I didn’t arrange the teams,” he said quietly.

“I know.”

He reached out, squeezed my hand. It was an automatic gesture, something he’d done a thousand times before. But now, it felt rehearsed, empty of real comfort.

“Tomorrow will still be fun,” he promised.

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. I watched Mary on the far side of the room, her laughter rising above the rest. Maybe this was my fault? I never was one to take center stage. I fought and trained hard … but maybe I needed to be more. I’d have to find a way to stop fading. To be more than just a shadow in my own story.

But for now, I just sat and listened to the echoes of their laughter, cold glass sweating in my hands.

“So,” I started, making my voice brighter than I felt, “training was pretty wild today. They had me running point on the obstacle course for the new pups.” I tried to meet Shane’s eyes, but he was watching the shadows flicker on the ceiling.

Mary didn’t skip a beat as she returned to our table. “That’s sweet, Leah. They must trust you with all those baby wolves nipping at your heels.” She winked, as if we were sharing a joke at my expense. “But you should see the real show tomorrow.” Her voice dropped to a confidential purr, directed at Shane. “Eastern ridge. The herd is bigger than last year. If we play it right, we can break them by sundown.”

Shane perked up. “You’re serious?”

Mary’s eyes glimmered. “Would I lie?” She leaned in closer, her arm pressing against his. “I was going to do some scouting, and I could use someone who knows how to move quietly. The last time I tried with that lot, they stomped a mile’s worth of brush before I even got my claws out.” She smiled, white teeth perfect in the firelight.

He grinned, mirroring her intensity. “I’m in. Just tell me when.”

I forced a laugh, hollow and sharp. “Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out.”

Mary glanced at me, momentarily acknowledging my presence. “Of course, I’m always planning ahead.” This time her smile looked more like a threat.

A commotion at the far side of the hall yanked Mary’s attention. Someone called her name. One of the warriors, I guessed, waved her over with a flourish. Mary squeezed Shane’s hand and glided away, hips swaying.

I took a breath, trying to steady the nerves. “So tonight …”

He glanced over, caught off guard. “Yeah?”

“Do you want to watch a movie?” I asked, hoping the question didn’t sound as desperate as it felt.

He hesitated, and in that split second, I saw the answer in his face. He was already halfway out of the conversation. “Maybe next time,” he said, gaze drifting after Mary’s retreating figure. “She and I have some stuff to go over before the teams get sorted. It’s—” He struggled for the word. “Important.”

I nodded, too fast. “Yeah, I get it. Of course. Pack business.”

He smiled, a thin apology hiding in the corners of his mouth. “I’m sure you will want to turn in early tonight anyway.”

I wanted to scream, or shake him, or just ask outright what had happened to us. But I couldn’t even manage a reply. The air between us grew thick, each heartbeat scraping at my insides.

Mary reappeared at the door, silhouetted by the cold white of the moon. She beckoned, a two-fingered gesture meant just for him. Shane pushed off the bench, hesitated a second as if remembering me, then clapped my shoulder. “Rest up,” he said. “You’ll need it.”

I watched him go, following the pull of my sister’s gravity like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The laughter and conversation faded as I sat there, shrinking into the wood grain. When I finally stood, the bench felt colder than stone.

I wandered out into the night, every step weighted with what I couldn’t say.

Even the moon seemed smaller, as if it had been nibbled down to a sickle. I wrapped my arms tight and walked until the chill bit through to my bones. It hurt, but at least it was real.

In the distance, I could hear them, Mary’s voice, Shane’s laughter, ringing out. For a moment, I let myself imagine it was me, just me and him, the way it had been before. But the image cracked and fell apart, leaving only echoes.

I kept walking. I didn’t want to watch the pieces scatter anymore. Near the forest edge I saw the two of them. Shane and Mary, drawn together like iron filings to a magnet.

She was pressed in close to Shane as he leaned against a tree, her back arched just so, her voice pitched for intimacy. She talked with her hands, sometimes touching his wrist, sometimes tracing invisible patterns in the air. Every so often, she’d laugh and brush her hair back, a tiny performance that reeled Shane in a little further each time.

I watched, unseen. I had always been good at this, blending into the background, making myself small. The trick was to observe without feeling. Tonight, the trick failed.

Shane even looked different with her. He smiled easily, let her steer the conversation wherever she pleased. When he listened, it was with his whole body, like nothing else existed outside the narrow space she created between them.

Every time Mary touched him, I felt it. Not just as jealousy, though there was plenty of that, but as a physical absence, like someone was scraping out the parts of me I couldn’t spare. I remembered the way Shane used to look at me, the private jokes, the easy touch of his hand at the small of my back. I tried to summon those memories, but all I could see now was his shoulder pressed against Mary’s, the two of them angled together as if they’d always fit.

It wasn’t just Shane, though. Mary did this to everyone. She was a master at creating orbit, at making people want to revolve around her. She let you believe you were special, that you’d been chosen, until she found a better axis. I wondered, not for the first time, how many times I’d let her do it to me.

As they disappeared in the forest, I thought I’d be angry, but it was something colder, an icicle lodged in the center of my chest. It wasn’t even about Mary taking him, not really. It was about how easy it had been for him to go. About how quickly I’d become optional.

Tomorrow would come, and the hunt, and whatever waited after that.

But tonight, it was just me and the dark, and the promise that I would never let myself fade out again.