The Moons Choice

Millie knew the moment the Moon chose her that it would ruin her. It would leave her with wounds she would be unable to cater for, scars that would never heal. The bond pushed right into place like a blade driven through her chest, searing hot, unforgiving, and undeniable. The pack gasped and whispers rippled through the clearing like rot spreading under skin. Her knees nearly caved in. She also trembled in despair She looked round and thought, him, it could not be, could it? The exiled Alpha lifted his head slowly the moonlight revealed the scars across his face, rough, jagged, deliberate, ugly in ways no healer could fix. His eyes, once revered, now held nothing but contempt. When his gaze locked onto Millie, it felt like being weighed and found pitiable. The bond surged. His lip curled. “No.” The single word hit harder than any scream. It cut deeper than any scar. “No, No, No, No, No” Gasps erupted from the pack. Millie’s breath stuttered. “You must accept the bond,” an elder stammered. “The Moon—” “I do not kneel to a goddess that would mock me like this,” the Alpha snapped. He stepped forward. There was not a single word from the pack as they all knew not what to expect. However, the pack instinctively bowed out of old fear, old loyalty. Millie stood frozen, her heart hammering so hard it hurt. She honestly didnt even want to look up at him. She brought herself to match his gaze. “I,” she started. He cut her off with a sharp laugh. “You?” His eyes were going over her like she was even worse than the dirt clinging to his boot. “This is what I am chained to?” Her cheeks burned. “What?” She thought. The Alpha turned to the pack, voice carrying, cruel, and very deliberate. “She is weak. Untested. No lineage worth honoring. The Beta’s shadow, who has never led, never bled, never mattered.” Millie felt every word carve into her. He did not even have any regard for her. She could feel how spiteful he was towards her. “I survived exile,” he continued. “I lost my pack, my rank, my name—and this is the Moon’s joke?” The bond writhed between them, screaming. She took a step forward despite herself. She had to speak up now for herself, “I did not ask for this either.” His eyes snapped back to her, cold and sharp. “Then take comfort in knowing I will never touch you.” The silence was absolute. It was too loud, in fact. “I reject you,” he said, loud enough for every wolf to hear. “I reject your bond, your body, and your claim, everything that has to do with you in fact.” A collective inhale. Millie’s vision blurred. “You will never be my Luna,” he went on. “Never stand beside me. Never bear my mark.” He leaned in close enough that only she could hear the final blow. “You are a burden I refuse to carry.” The bond screamed as it fractured—not broken, just wounded. Millie turned before anyone could see her cry, she took a deep breathe and she took off running for miles, she ran as fast and as far as she did not even mind how she might have appeared. She ran. Behind her, the Moon dimmed—just for a breath. And somewhere deep in the wilds, something ancient took note. Because no one rejected the Moon without consequence. And no Alpha walked away from a mate unpunished. He expected pain. That was the thing that unsettled him most when there was none. The bond snapped—loud, sharp, insistent—and then fractured under his rejection like ice struck with a hammer. The pack recoiled. The elders gasped. Somewhere behind him, the girl ran. He did not turn around. Maybe for fear that if he did, he might see her face again—wide-eyed, stunned, soft in a way the world had never been to him. And softness was a weakness he could no longer afford. “Clear the circle,” he ordered. The command came easily. Automatically. The pack obeyed without question. Good. Fear was still loyal, at the very least. He walked away from the ground with calculated steps, ignoring how the Moon dimmed for a bit too long. He ignored the strange silence that followed him, the way even the forest seemed to hold its breath. Nothing hurt. That was how he confirmed he had done the right thing. He reached the edge of the territory just as dawn crept into the sky, pale and unwelcome. The scars on his face pulled tight as his jaw clenched, but it was familiar discomfort. Self-imposed discomfort. Not regret. “You did not even hesitate,” a voice said behind him. He didn’t need to turn to know it was the Beta, her father. “I hesitated long enough,” the Alpha replied. Whatever the Moon had intended, he had cut it out cleanly. That was what leaders did. That was what survivors did. He pressed two fingers to his chest once, almost absently, as if checking for a non- existent wound. “Gone,” he muttered. And for some reason, he believed it. Far away, in a city that did not know his name, Millie took her first breath without him. The bond did not scream. It waited. And the Alpha—scarred, feared, unrepentant—walked on, unaware that the emptiness he felt was not freedom. It was the calm before starvation.