The Lycan's Broken Moon

Done being sorry

Seraphina POV

Lilith was the first to find her voice.

"Your Majesty," she said, her tone suddenly sweet, reasonable, dripping with false concern. "Surely you can see that this is a misunderstanding. Yes, we made a mistake thinking you were a rogue. We apologize for that, deeply and sincerely."

She rose to her feet, smoothing her dress, her eyes fixed on Cassian with calculated appeal. "But Seraphina is our pack member. Our family. What happens within our pack. how we discipline our own. How we handle our internal matters isn't really the business of outsiders. Even kings."

She smiled, that terrible smile that had fooled everyone for years. "We hoped you might understand. Family matters, after all. Private matters."

My father nodded, still kneeling but his head raised. "Yes," he said, his voice carrying that familiar tone of authority. the one that had silenced me a thousand times before. "Seraphina, tell him. Tell the King that this is a family matter. Nothing more. We don't need to make a scene."

They were looking at me now. all of them. My father with his expectations. Logan with his guilt. Lilith with her desperation. And Cassian, on his throne, watching me with those amber eyes that seemed to see everything I was trying to hide.

Family matters.

The words echoed in my head, bouncing off memories like stones thrown into a well.

Family matters.

The night my mother died and no one held me while I screamed.

Family matters.

The years of silence at dinner tables, of being invisible, of being less than nothing.

Family matters.

The slap from Logan. The ropes from Lilith. The indifference from the man who was supposed to protect me.

Something broke inside me. Not gently. Not quietly. Like a dam bursting, like a storm finally breaking. like every word I'd ever swallowed suddenly demanding to be spoken.

"Family?" My voice came out rough, trembling, nothing like the soft, placating tone I'd used my whole life. "Family matters?"

I stepped forward, my hands shaking, tears streaming down my face. But I wasn't crying from sadness anymore. I was crying from rage.

"You haven't treated me like family for a single day since my mother died!" The words tore out of me, raw and jagged and true. "Not one day! You moved me to a closet. You forgot my birthday. You let her-" I pointed at Lilith, my finger shaking. "You let her torment me, humiliate me, destroy everything I loved and you did nothing. You saw nothing. You were never my family!"

The room went silent. My father's face went pale. Logan looked like I'd struck him.

I turned to him first.

Logan Pierce. The boy I'd loved since I was thirteen. The boy who'd promised me forever. The boy who'd hit me.

I walked toward him, my steps steady even though my heart was hammering against my ribs. He flinched as I approached, his eyes wide, his hands trembling.

"Seraphina," he whispered. "I can explain-"

"No," I said, my voice flat. "You can't."

I reached for his wrist, for the bracelet he'd worn since our first anniversary. The one I'd braided for him from threads of my own hair, bleached white with moonlight and hope. He tried to pull away, but I was faster than he expected. I always have been.

I ripped it off.

The threads snapped, scattering across the stone floor like broken promises.

"We're separated," I said, dropping the ruined bracelet at his feet. "Stop keeping my things."

I turned away before I could see his face crumple, before I could feel any pity for the boy who'd betrayed me. I couldn't afford pity. Not now. Not when there was still so much to say.

I walked to Lilith.

My sister. My tormentor. The woman who'd tried to kill me.

She was backing away, her eyes wide, her perfect composure finally cracking. "Stay away from me," she hissed. "Don't touch me. I'll tell Father, I'll tell-"

"I'm sorry," I said.

The words stopped her. She blinked, confused, her mouth hanging open.

"For the scar," I continued, my voice soft now, almost gentle. "I never meant to hurt you. We were children. It was an accident. I've carried that guilt for fifteen years, Lilith. I've let you punish me for it for fifteen years."

I reached out, my fingers brushing the white crescent on her cheek. The scar I'd given her on a swing set, pushing too high, laughing too loud. being too happy in a moment when she wanted me to fall.

"But I'm done," I whispered. "I'm done being sorry."

My hand moved.