The Luna's Second Chance

Selena’s POV I sit in the Packhouse’s grand hall, my hands folded neatly in my lap, my head bowed to mask the storm inside me and tears threatening to fall for everyone to see. The low murmur of voices, thick with the scent of roasted meats, honeyed wine, and the delicate perfume of noble wolves dressed in their finest silks. The flickering glow of chandeliers casts dancing shadows on the polished floors, their golden light illuminating the tension clinging to the air like an oppressive fog. But the warmth of the room does nothing to chase away the cold inside me. For two months, I have lived in this nightmare—feeling every mark of my mate’s betrayal as it burned into my flesh. Two months of waking up to new bruises darkening my skin, reminders that Scott Silvermoon had taken another to his bed. Two months of pretending not to feel the phantom hands of a stranger on my body, because through our mate bond, I felt everything he did with her. And now, tonight, he stands before our entire Pack, his voice booming with confidence, filled with the arrogance of a man who has already won. "I have made my decision," he announces. His deep baritone, once a caress against my skin, is now nothing but a blade. "Emma Bluemoon will be my concubine, and in time, she will bear the heirs this Pack needs." A hush falls over the room, like the breath has been stolen from every wolf present. There is no gasp of shock—they all knew this was coming. And yet, I feel their unease thickening the air like an invisible smog, a silent question hanging between them all. What will the Luna do? The weight of a hundred eyes presses against me, burning into my skin like brands. The low crackle of the fire in the marble hearth, the clinking of gold-rimmed goblets, the faint rustle of silk gowns brushing against stone floors—every sound feels distant. I swallow hard. My hands tremble against the cool satin of my gown, the delicate fabric a stark contrast to the iron grip I have on my emotions. My lungs constrict, the walls of the grand hall pressing inward. Every instinct screams at me to run. But I do not. Because I am the Luna. Or at least, I was. I lift my chin, my gaze landing on him. Scott Silvermoon stands in the center of the room like he owns it. Like he owns me. He is everything an Alpha is meant to be—tall, broad-shouldered, radiating power in the way his tailored black suit clings to his muscular frame. His golden-brown hair, tousled yet intentional, gleams under the chandeliers. His sharp, aristocratic features—strong jaw, high cheekbones, full lips—once made me weak. Now, they are nothing but the face of my betrayal. Then, there are his eyes—wolf-gold, bright and piercing, the same color I used to get lost in. Now, they are cold. Not indifferent, not cruel. Just… final. A shiver races down my spine, and I am disgusted that my body still reacts to him. Beside him, standing tall with a victorious smirk, is Emma Bluemoon. She is everything I am not. Where I am sun-kissed and warrior trained-worn, she is porcelain perfection—delicate, pale as moonlight, with platinum blonde curls cascading down her back. Where my body is sculpted from years of warrior training, hers is soft, voluptuous, untouched by battle or hardship. Her lips, painted in a cruel shade of red, curve into a satisfied smile, her silver gown clinging to her in a way designed to draw attention. And Scott’s eyes do not leave her. Not once. Something cracks inside me. I rise to my feet, though my legs feel like glass, ready to shatter. I keep my shoulders squared, my head high, even as my heart bleeds inside my chest. "You expect me to remain your Luna after this?" My voice is soft—too soft for the storm raging inside me. But it is steady. Strong. Scott lets out a sigh, as if my words are nothing more than a nuisance. "Of course, Selena. You are still my mate. You will still be by my side, as you have always been." The room is silent. Everyone waits for my reaction. I see it now, the expressions painted across the faces of my Pack. Some pity me, their gazes filled with silent apologies. Others remain neutral, waiting to see if I will bend or break. Scott steps forward, lowering his voice. "I don’t want to shame you, Selena," he says, but the words ring hollow. "You will still have the respect of the Pack." Respect. A sharp pain pierces through my chest, and I know it’s not just my emotions. It’s the mate bond, punishing me for his betrayal. Heat spreads beneath my ribs like molten fire, and I know what will come next. I do not have to look to know that beneath my dress, dark bruises bloom across my skin—phantom wounds from the woman who should have never touched him in the first place. I do not break. Not here. Not now. Instead, I straightened my spine, lifted my chin, and looked Scott dead in the eyes. Then, with cold finality, I gave him a single nod. And I walked away. It has been two days since my humiliation. Two days since Scott Silvermoon stood before our Pack and discarded me like an afterthought. Since he declared to the world that I would remain his Luna, standing beside him like a loyal dog while his mistress carried his heirs. I have not cried. I have not screamed. I have only waited—waited for the inevitable truth to strike the final blow. Tonight, I got it. I stood outside Scott’s study, the oak door cool beneath my trembling fingers. The wood is thick, but their voices carry through it, muffled yet unmistakable. Inside, they are together. "I can’t reject her yet," Scott says. His voice is deep, steady, completely unbothered. "Not until you give me an heir. Then I’ll have no reason to keep her." Emma hums in approval, the sound silky and full of pleasure. "It won’t take long," she purrs. "You don’t hold back, love. You’ll have your heir soon enough." Scott chuckles—a sound that used to make me weak. Now, it burns like acid in my veins. "You’re eager," he teases. "Were you always this impatient?" "You know I was," Emma answers, a sultry edge to her voice. "I’ve waited my entire life for you." There is a pause. Then Scott’s voice drops into something more intimate, something that destroys me. "And I’ve waited for you." My breath locks in my throat. Emma sighs, a sound of pure satisfaction. "We should have been together from the start," she murmurs. Scott exhales, a low, regretful sound. "I know." My nails dig into my palms. "It was always supposed to be you," he continues. "If it weren’t for her family experience, for their warriors' might and their strength, I never would have accepted Selena as my mate. I would have rejected her the moment I met her at the ball for you." Something inside me splinters. "Then why keep her at all?" Emma asks, annoyance creeping into her tone. "Because her family still supports me," Scott replies easily. "The Moonblood lineage is one of the strongest. If I rejected Selena outright, I would not have gained their alliance. I needed their warriors to take down my brother. Then he died and his tyrannical ways ended, but I had to secure my place and be accepted. Now that it's done, I don't need their support as much." Emma’s voice softens, honey-sweet and manipulative. "And after I give you an heir?" Scott hums. "Then, I’ll reject her. I don’t need her anymore." I cannot breathe. I was never his choice. Every touch, every whispered promise, every I love you—lies. The air is thick, pressing against me like a crushing weight. My limbs go numb as I step back, away from the door, away from the reality that has just shattered my world beyond repair. I turn. I do not cry. I walk, my legs moving as if pulled by an unseen force, guiding me back to my bedroom. I sit in complete darkness, the only light coming from the glow of the moon through the balcony doors. And I wait for it to happen. The moment came soon after. A searing pain rips through my chest like claws sinking into my very soul. Scott is with her now, giving her the touch he vowed to be mine. My body flinches against the invisible wounds, against the proof that the mate bond is still intact, still tying me to a man who does not want me. I let the pain consume me. I let it burn. And then, hours later, when the agony fades and I know he is asleep, I rise from my bed. I take nothing. Because I will not need anything where I am going. I stepped silently out of my room, past the empty corridors and turning towards the Packhouse doors. No guards stop me—I am still their Luna, for now. The moment I cross the Pack’s border, I stop. The night air is crisp, the scent of pine and earth filling my lungs. The moon hangs heavy and silver, a silent witness to what I am about to do. I exhaled, steadying myself. And then, with a voice that does not tremble, I sever the bond. "I, Selena Silvermoon, born Moonblood, reject Scott Silvermoon as my mate and Alpha." Pain. A raw, excruciating agony unlike anything I have ever known explodes inside me. The moment the words leave my lips, the bond snaps. A force so violent it steals the breath from my lungs. It is worse than the bruises, worse than the betrayal, worse than anything I have endured before. My knees buckled, my scream swallowed by the night. And in the distance, I swear I hear another cry of agony—Scott’s. But I don’t care. But it is nothing compared to what Scott must be feeling. The pain is always greater for the one who is rejected. For once, he will suffer as I have suffered. For once, he will feel loss. My body trembles, but I force myself up, the sting of my torn soul nothing compared to my desperation. And I ran away. Away from him and everything. I stumbled to the cliffside, my breath ragged, my vision blurred by the burning in my eyes. The wind screams around me, tearing at my dress, whipping my hair across my face like it, too, is trying to hold me back. The scent of salt and storm fills my lungs, sharp and unforgiving, but it does not matter. Nothing matters anymore. The drop below is endless. The ocean churns violently, waves crashing against jagged rocks, a merciless abyss waiting to swallow me whole. I should be afraid. I should feel something. But all I feel is emptiness. I squeeze my eyes shut. And memories wound me like a blade. Scott’s smile when we met. The way his fingers laced with mine the night he marked me. The way he whispered my name like it meant something. Lies. Every. Single. One. I clench my fists, my nails digging into my palms. But the pain is nothing compared to the ache in my chest—the place where my mate bond once lived. A place that feels hollow now. I see my mother’s face. The warmth of her embrace. My father’s proud gaze. My brothers cheering me on, their voices always pushing me forward, telling me I was strong. But I wasn’t strong enough, was I? I wasn’t strong enough to be a Luna. I wasn’t strong enough to keep my mate’s love. I wasn’t strong enough to be a real woman, to carry the child Scott wanted so badly. I was never enough. A single tear slips down my cheek. I don’t want to feel this anymore. "I’m sorry," I whisper, the words tasting like defeat on my tongue. I let go of the love, the pain, the betrayal I felt those last two months and the hatred I had since Scott public humiliation two days ago. Then, with a final, shuddering breath, I step forward and the wind rushes up to meet me. I’m finally free.