Alpha's Shadow, Luna's Fire

Chapter 3

Estelle's POV

His brow knit sharply.

"Could you stop being so sarcastic? I'm trying to explain."

"I don't think that's necessary."

My voice stayed even.

"Cassius," I said, meeting him head-on, "if you've grown tired of me and want another Luna, then this position—I can give it up."

In an instant, his expression darkened.

"What did you say?"

I let out a quiet sigh, as though the last of my patience had finally worn thin.

"I said we can dissolve our partnership contract."

With that, I shoved him aside and turned to leave.

The next second, my wrist was caught in a crushing grip. Cassius yanked me back with startling strength, fingers clamping around my chin and forcing my face up.

"Thoughts like that," he said, his voice low, rough, and dangerous, "you'd be wise not to even entertain."

I didn't struggle.

I didn't speak again.

Because before he said those words, I had already made my decision.

I

didn't want him anymore.

That night, he didn't stay.

An urgent message called him away.

Standing in the dark corridor, I heard it clearly—the woman's voice on the other end of the call, trembling through her sobs.

A wolf's hearing doesn't lie.

I didn't chase after him.

I simply closed the door.

The next morning, the lawyer handling the bond dissolution—also a close friend—sent me a screenshot.

The photo had been taken atop a mountain.

Dawn was breaking, sunlight tearing through the last shreds of night.

Two hands—one large, one small—formed a heart in front of the lens, intimate and unguarded.

The caption contained only one line:

At dawn, when wolves bare their hearts.

I recognized that hand instantly.

It belonged to my Alpha.

Seated at the dining table, I found myself holding a glass of water for an indeterminate length of time.

When I finally set it down, the base touched the table with a soft, crisp clink.

As if a fragment of the bond had quietly chipped away.

For days afterward, he still didn't return to the estate.

Yet at the Pack Council meeting, our paths crossed once again—as we inevitably would.

He sat in the seat of honor, the Alpha's authority radiating in silence.

I sat among the elders, one on either side, my expression cool and distant.

We did not look at each other.

As though we had never shared the same thread of fate.

I stopped entering his private quarters.

In my spare time, I searched for a place of my own and began dealing with objects once heavy with "meaning"—jewelry that symbolized companionship, commemorative gifts, even the ring that marked my identity.

I sold them all.

Why keep the remnants?

I didn't even want the Bond anymore.

Night settled over Blackstone Bar.

It was one of the pack's most frequented private gathering spots. The music was low and suggestive, alcohol mixing with pheromones beneath dim lights. Unlike the solemn council chamber, this place made it easier to let one's guard down.

I hadn't planned to stay long.

Sitting at the far end of the bar, I traced slow circles along the rim of my glass. Ice clinked softly against the sides. My scent was carefully masked, blending almost seamlessly into the crowd.

Until I heard my name.

More precisely—"the Alpha's Luna."

"Have you heard?"

A young werewolf lowered his voice, excitement still leaking through. "The Alpha's been taking that woman to the upper-tier clubs lately."

"Who?"

"Who else? The short-haired one—the one who showed up at the training grounds before."

"Damn… but Luna's still around, right?"

"That's what makes it exciting."

Low chuckles spread through the group.

"Heard it's happened more than once. People around him just accept it now."

My glass froze midair.

The ice slowly melted, droplets sliding down and dampening my fingertips without the slightest hint of cold.

"Do you think Luna really knows nothing about it?"

"Who knows."

Someone shrugged. "If the Alpha's tired of it, it's not impossible. After all… no matter how strong a Bond is, it can't withstand novelty forever."

The moment those words landed, the air seemed to split.

Several werewolves sensed it almost at the same time.

A cool, dangerous pheromone spread behind them, slow and silent—like a blade sliding through darkness.

They froze.

I had already stood.

I didn't know when I'd moved behind them. Only that in that moment, the music, lights, and noise of the bar faded into nothing.

I stood there, calm-faced, my gaze glacial.

"Go on," I said. My voice wasn't loud, but it cut cleanly through the noise. "I'd like to hear the part I don't know."

Their faces drained of color.

"L-Luna…"

One of them instinctively lowered his head, his wolf recoiling under the pressure. "We didn't mean it like that—"

"We're sorry!"

Another blurted out, frantic. "We just heard it from others! It was only rumors!"

"It's our fault!"

The apologies tumbled over one another.

Their scents tangled chaotically, fear nearly overflowing.

I looked at them—and suddenly smiled.

"So it's already spread this far," I said gently. "That means he never intended to hide it."

They snapped their heads up.

"Luna, it's not like that!"

"The Alpha isn't that kind of person!"

"That she-wolf was only there for business—"

"Enough."

I cut them off.

"No need to rush into explanations."

I spoke slowly, deliberately. "After all… what you said isn't entirely wrong."

They went still.

My gaze passed over each of them. A faint curve touched my lips, devoid of humor.

"So—"

I leaned forward slightly, my voice soft, every word unmistakably clear.

"Next time you feel like discussing the Alpha's private life, remember to avoid me."

"I'm not exactly known for my patience."

I paused, then added:

"And I've always been good at holding grudges."

The air fell completely silent.

I straightened, spared them no further glance, and turned back toward the bar.

I no longer felt like drinking.

I took my coat and headed for the exit.

The elevator was at the far end.

I pressed the button. The metal doors slid shut, sealing out the noise and murmured conversations.

I was alone.

The elevator doors finally slid open again, and a strange, powerful scent rushed in ahead of him.

Cold. Deep. Commanding.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in a dark windbreaker, his presence calm and tightly restrained. It wasn't the scent of my pack—but it was so potent that my wolf snapped to attention instantly.

An Alpha.

And a dangerous one.

The elevator began its slow descent.

The narrow metal space felt cut off from the world, washed in harsh white light that sharpened every shadow. I leaned against the wall, posture straight, but I couldn't ignore the presence standing directly across from me.

He faced me from the opposite side.

The distance between us wasn't close—yet it wasn't safe either. I could clearly sense the pheromones radiating from him: cold and deep, like the midnight ocean, heavy with pressure and danger, yet utterly free of impatience or overt aggression.

That restraint alone was intimidating.

The elevator gave a faint jolt.

His gaze settled on my face—steady, unflinching, unapologetically direct.

"You're holding yourself back," he said.

I stiffened.

"Not out of fear," he continued, his voice low and even. "But because you don't want anyone to see that you're at your limit."

This wasn't a test. It was a precise assessment.

I lifted my eyes to meet his.

At that moment, the wolf inside me stirred—subtle, involuntary.

Not a warning.

But… a response.

The realization tightened my chest.

"You're observing too closely," I said coolly.

The corner of his mouth curved, just slightly.

"Professional habit," he replied. "And survival instinct."

The air in the elevator seemed to grow heavier.

His scent drifted closer—so subtle it was almost imperceptible, yet deliberate enough that I felt it. Not a declaration of dominance, but a calculated encroachment—knowing I would sense it, and doing it anyway.

My breath caught.

I didn't step back.

"You shouldn't stand so close," I said quietly.

He looked down at me, his eyes darkening.

"But you haven't moved," he said.

The elevator began to slow.

Just as the doors were about to open, he added in a low voice—

"You carry the scent of a Bond."

A pause.

"An old one."

"And it's breaking."