CLAIMED BY THE RIVAL ALPHA

1| A WIDOW I HAD NEVER MET

SELENE'S POV

5 years later...

Death had a way of changing the sound of a place long before it changed the people living inside it. I noticed it the moment I opened my eyes that morning, before I had even fully shaken the remnants of sleep from my mind, before I had remembered what day it was or why the heaviness pressing against my chest felt so much greater than the weight of the blankets covering me.

The silence was what reached me first. Not the peaceful kind that settled over Crescent Moon Pack before sunrise, when the warriors had yet to begin their morning drills and the children were still tucked safely beneath warm blankets dreaming of adventures that only existed in young minds.

This silence was different. It was dense, suffocating, almost sacred, the sort that wrapped itself around every corner of the pack house until even the walls seemed afraid to breathe too loudly. There were no servants chatting quietly in the corridor while preparing breakfast, no clatter of pots drifting up from the kitchens below, no distant laughter from young wolves chasing one another through the courtyard before their lessons began.

Even the birds outside my bedroom window, whose cheerful songs had become my favourite way to greet each morning since moving to Crescent Moon, seemed to understand that today was not a day for joyful melodies. Instead, the only sound reaching my ears was the mournful whisper of the wind brushing through the towering pine trees surrounding the manor, carrying with it the unmistakable scent of rain that had yet to fall, as though even the sky itself had chosen to mourn alongside us.

For several moments, I simply lay there staring at the carved wooden ceiling above my bed, allowing myself to remain suspended in that fragile place between sleep and wakefulness where reality hadn't quite settled into my heart yet. Then it came rushing back all at once, sharp enough to steal the breath from my lungs despite the fact that the news had reached us three days earlier.

Jesse was dead. Ryder's younger brother, the second son of the Blackwood bloodline, had been killed during what should have been a routine patrol near the northern border after a rogue attack turned unexpectedly violent. That was the official story, at least. I hadn't questioned it. Why would I? Warriors died protecting their territories far more often than anyone cared to admit, and although it never became easier to accept, it had become one of those painful truths every Luna learned to live with.

Still, knowing death was part of our world did little to soften the ache it left behind. The entire pack had been grieving ever since the messenger arrived carrying Jesse's personal crest and the bloodstained t-shirt recovered from the scene. Crescent Moon had lost one of its own, and even though Jesse himself had rarely been here to call this place home, grief did not concern itself with attendance. Blood was blood. Family was family. The pack mourned him because he had been born beneath our moon. After all, his name belonged to the Blackwoods, because somewhere beneath the distance and the long absences, he had always been one of us.

A quiet sigh escaped me as I pushed myself upright, my eyes instinctively drifting toward the empty side of the bed where Ryder had slept. The sheets had already gone cold, the faint indentation left by his body the only evidence that he had been there at all. I wasn't surprised.

Sleep had become a stranger to him these past few nights, and more than once I'd awakened in the darkness only to find him standing silently on the balcony outside our room, staring into the endless forest without saying a word. I had joined him every time, slipping beneath his arm while he wrapped it around my shoulders almost absentmindedly, and together we would remain there in silence until the chill of the night eventually drove us back inside. We hadn't spoken much during those moments. Somehow words had felt too small for a grief like this.

What comfort could I possibly offer a man who had just lost his younger brother? There were wounds that no reassurance could mend, and I had long ago learned that sometimes the greatest comfort wasn't found in speaking at all but simply in refusing to let the person you loved grieve alone. I had hoped he felt that. I had hoped my presence eased even a fraction of the burden pressing against his shoulders, though lately there had been moments when I caught myself wondering whether grief was a lonely place no one else could truly reach.

I rose from the bed and crossed the room slowly, pulling back the heavy curtains that framed the tall bedroom windows. The sight beyond them made my chest tighten in a way I hadn't expected. The pack grounds, usually alive with movement by this hour, had transformed overnight into something almost unrecognisable.

Warriors dressed in formal black uniforms moved quietly through the courtyard carrying tall wooden poles draped with mourning banners bearing the Blackwood crest. Pack elders arrived one after another through the front gates, their conversations hushed, their heads bowed respectfully as servants guided them toward the great hall.

Women from the kitchens hurried across the stone pathways carrying covered baskets and steaming pots, preparing enough food to feed the hundreds of wolves who would gather after the funeral despite knowing most of it would likely go untouched. Even the training grounds beyond the eastern wall sat completely empty, abandoned for the first morning in longer than I could remember. It struck me then that although Jesse had hardly ever been present, his death had somehow managed to bring the entire pack to a standstill. Perhaps that was what losing family did. It forced the world to pause, if only for a little while, to acknowledge that someone who had once occupied space within it was now gone forever.

As I rested my forehead lightly against the cool glass, I found myself thinking about Jesse, only to realise with an uncomfortable twist of guilt just how little there actually was to remember. Five years. I had been married and mated to Ryder for five years, had lived beneath the same roof that Jesse had grown up in, had shared countless dinners with Ryder's parents before they passed, had become Luna to the very pack Jesse had been born into... and yet I could count every interaction I'd ever had with my brother-in-law on one hand without running out of fingers.

The first had been not long after Ryder and I completed our mating ceremony, when Jesse appeared unexpectedly one evening covered in road dust, embraced his brother with enough force to nearly knock the breath from him, congratulated us both, stayed for supper, and disappeared before sunrise the next morning while the rest of the pack still slept.

The second had been nearly a year later during the Harvest Festival when he arrived halfway through the celebrations, danced exactly once with a group of laughing children who had somehow convinced the perpetually wandering Blackwood to join them, kissed his mother's cheek, teased Ryder mercilessly about becoming too serious after taking over as Alpha, and vanished again before anyone could persuade him to stay the night.

After that... the memories blurred together into brief greetings exchanged in passing, polite conversations lasting no more than a few minutes, and occasional stories about where Jesse had supposedly travelled this time. It had almost become a running joke among the pack that spotting Jesse Blackwood was rarer than spotting a white wolf beneath a full moon.

Whenever I asked Ryder why his younger brother spent so little time at home, his answers were always delivered with the same mixture of affection and exasperation that older siblings seemed to reserve exclusively for one another. Jesse had never liked responsibility, he'd tell me with an amused shake of his head.

He preferred the freedom of the open road, enjoyed taking contracts from neighbouring packs, and claimed paperwork made him break out in hives. More than once, Ryder had laughed while insisting that if their father had ever tried forcing Jesse into council meetings, the poor man would have escaped through the nearest window before the discussion reached its second topic.

The pack accepted those explanations easily enough because they suited the version of Jesse everyone believed they knew, the restless younger son who possessed enough skill as a warrior to make any Alpha proud but lacked the patience required to spend his days buried beneath politics and administration.

Honestly, I had admired him for that in a strange sort of way. Not everyone wanted to lead. Not everyone found purpose sitting at the head of a council table debating supplies or negotiating trade businesses. Jesse had chosen a different life, and if it made him happy, who was I to question it?

The same explanation had always been offered whenever I asked about his wife. Mirelle preferred their quiet life away from the manor. Mirelle disliked politics. Mirelle had no interest in becoming a public figure within the pack. Mirelle was happier raising their son away from endless ceremonies and council meetings while Jesse came and went as work demanded.

At first, I had found it rather unusual that five years could pass without us meeting properly, especially considering we technically belonged to the same family, but every attempt I made to arrange something seemed to fall victim to unfortunate timing. Once they were travelling. Another time their son had fallen ill. Another visit had been postponed because Jesse had accepted an urgent escort mission for an allied pack. After enough explanations, the absence simply... became normal. Strange, perhaps, but normal all the same.

If anything, I appreciated the distance they kept. Being Luna had taught me quickly that leadership attracted attention from all the wrong people. There would always be wolves dissatisfied with Ryder's decisions, rivals eager to sow division within the Blackwood family, opportunists searching for weaknesses they could exploit. Having Jesse and his family live quietly beyond the reach of pack politics removed one more avenue for those ambitions to grow. No one could compare brothers who were rarely seen together. No one could whisper that one would make a better Alpha than the other if the younger brother never stood in the Alpha's shadow long enough to invite comparison. Jesse and Mirelle had, intentionally or not, given Ryder and me the space to lead without unnecessary complications, and I had always been grateful for that sacrifice.

Today, however... Today I would finally meet the woman I'd called my sister-in-law for five years. Not under joyful circumstances. Not over shared meals or family celebrations. But beside her husband's coffin.

The thought settled heavily in my chest, bringing with it an unexpected wave of guilt. What kind of family had we been to one another that death had become our first real introduction? I didn't know the sound of Mirelle's laughter, whether she preferred tea or coffee in the mornings, what colour her eyes were, or whether she smiled more like Jesse or not at all. I didn't even know how old her son was anymore. The last time Ryder had mentioned him, Elias had only recently learned to walk. Now... now he was old enough to understand that his father wasn't coming home. My heart broke for them before I'd ever laid eyes on either of them.

I remained by the window for several more moments, watching the steady procession of pack members entering the pack house grounds until the chill from the glass finally seeped through the thin sleeves of my nightgown and reminded me that standing there forever would not stop the day from unfolding.

Grief, much like time, possessed an infuriating inability to wait for anyone. Whether we were ready or not, the sun would continue to rise, mourners would continue to arrive, prayers would be spoken, tears would fall, and before the day was over, Jesse Blackwood would be laid to rest beneath the ancient pines where generations of Blackwood wolves had found their final peace.

I closed the curtains with slow, deliberate movements before crossing the bedroom toward my dressing room, where the maids had already laid out the traditional mourning attire reserved for members of the Alpha family. Unlike the ceremonial gowns worn during celebrations, mourning clothes were intentionally simple.

My dress was crafted from soft black fabric that flowed elegantly to the floor without unnecessary embroidery or jewels; the only decoration being delicate silver stitching along the cuffs and neckline representing the moon that watched over every departed wolf returning to the Goddess' embrace. Beside it rested the silver crescent necklace Ryder had given me on our mating day, and without thinking, I reached for it first.

It had become something of a ritual over the years. I wore it whenever the occasion carried particular importance, whether it was the Winter Solstice Festival, the birth celebration of a pack member's child, or the annual gathering of neighbouring Alphas. Somehow, fastening it around my neck always made me feel as though Ryder's mother stood quietly beside me, approving of the woman her son had chosen despite never having the chance to meet me herself.

My fingers lingered against the cool silver for a brief moment after securing the clasp before I caught my own reflection in the mirror and offered the woman staring back a small, encouraging smile. Being Luna meant standing beside the Alpha regardless of what burden rested upon his shoulders. Today was not about my sadness or my curiosity or the countless questions circling quietly inside my mind. Today belonged to Ryder. If my mate needed me to be his strength while he buried his brother, then I would gladly carry whatever portion of his grief he allowed me to share.

The maids arrived only a few minutes later, though even they moved differently this morning. Usually they entered my rooms chatting quietly among themselves about whose child had refused breakfast, which flowers had bloomed in the eastern gardens overnight, or the latest harmless gossip drifting through the village.

Today, however, not a single one of them spoke above a whisper. Their smiles had disappeared, replaced by solemn expressions and reddened eyes that told me more than one of them had already cried before the morning had properly begun. Jesse may have lived most of his life beyond Crescent Moon's borders, but he had still been born here. Many of these women had watched him grow from an energetic little boy into the wandering young warrior everyone affectionately described as impossible to keep in one place for longer than a week. To them, this wasn't merely the funeral of the Alpha's younger brother. It was the funeral of a child they had helped raise.

"I'm sorry, Luna," Clara murmured as she began brushing my hair, her voice carrying the raw edge of someone struggling to keep her composure.

I caught her eyes in the mirror and reached back to give her wrist a gentle squeeze. "It's okay." None of us said another word after that.

The silence between us wasn't uncomfortable. If anything, it felt respectful, allowing each of us to mourn in our own quiet way while sunlight gradually spilt across the bedroom floor, illuminating dust particles drifting lazily through the air as though the world outside hadn't shifted irreversibly three days ago.

I found myself wondering how Ryder's mother would have endured a day like this had she still been alive. She had passed away nearly two years before from a long heart illness that had slowly stolen her strength but never her kindness, and although I'd only known her for five years, not a week went by without someone in the pack recalling one of her gentle words or thoughtful deeds. Perhaps there was some small mercy in the fact that she had been spared this particular grief. Losing a child... I couldn't imagine surviving something like that.

The door opened quietly, and Ryder stepped inside just as Clara finished pinning the last section of my hair into place. For a brief moment, neither of us spoke.

He had already changed into the ceremonial black uniform reserved for the Alpha during funerals, and something about seeing him dressed entirely in dark colours sent a sharp ache through my chest. Black had always suited Ryder, but never like this. Never beneath circumstances that drained every trace of warmth from his expression. His jacket had been fastened perfectly, the Blackwood crest embroidered over his heart in silver thread catching the pale morning light filtering through the windows, while the ceremonial Alpha pin rested precisely where it always did near his collar. To anyone else, he probably looked exactly as an Alpha should on a day like today: composed, dignified, unwavering.

I knew better. There were tiny things most people would never notice. The faint shadows beneath his eyes where sleep had abandoned him several nights ago. The stiffness in his shoulders, as though the weight of leadership had somehow become physically heavier overnight. The way his fingers flexed almost imperceptibly before relaxing again. Small things. Insignificant things. The sort of things only a wife who had spent seven years loving the same man would ever recognise.

"Have you eaten?" I asked gently.

He hesitated just long enough for me to suspect the answer before offering a small nod. "A little."

I smiled knowingly.

"So... no."

The corner of his mouth twitched ever so slightly. "I wasn't very hungry."

"I imagined as much."

Crossing the room, I reached for his hands, relieved when he allowed me to lace our fingers together without hesitation. They felt cooler than usual. "I'll ask the kitchens to prepare something simple after the ceremony."

"You don't have to worry about me today."

"I know."

"And yet you will anyway."

"I always do."

That earned me another ghost of a smile. Barely there. Gone almost as quickly as it appeared. Still... It was enough. For now.

Without thinking, I lifted one hand to smooth the front of his jacket, my fingers brushing away an imaginary crease that probably hadn't existed in the first place. It had become an unconscious habit somewhere during our marriage. Before every council meeting, every diplomatic gathering, every festival, I inevitably found myself adjusting his collar or straightening his cuffs while he stood there patiently pretending he couldn't have managed the task himself. More often than not, he would tease me for fussing over him like an old grandmother.

Today... He simply stood still. Watching me quietly.

"You missed a button," I lied, mostly because saying nothing at all somehow felt worse.

"I did?"

"Mhm."

He glanced down obediently while I fixed absolutely nothing.

"There."

He looked at the perfectly unchanged jacket before raising one eyebrow.

"I see."

A knock interrupted us before I could reply.

"Alpha," Toby called respectfully from beyond the closed door. "The council has assembled. The neighbouring Alphas have begun arriving."

Ryder's attention shifted toward the door almost immediately.

Duty.

It always came first on days like this.

"I'll be down in a moment," he answered.

"Yes, Alpha."

Footsteps retreated down the corridor.

For a moment the room fell silent again. I looked up at Ryder, expecting him to say something. Anything. Instead he simply released a slow breath and turned toward the window, staring out across the courtyard where more mourners continued arriving through the manor gates.

I watched him quietly. Grief looked different on everyone. Some cried. Some shouted. Some withdrew into themselves until words became impossible.

Ryder had always carried the weight of responsibility silently, believing his emotions should never become another burden for the people depending on him. It was one of the first things I'd admired about him when we met.

Even now, while preparing to bury his only brother, his first concern would be ensuring every guest was welcomed properly, every elder and Alpha acknowledged, every ceremony carried out with the dignity Jesse deserved.

That was who Ryder was. An Alpha before anything else. A brother grieving in private because his pack needed strength more than tears.

My heart ached for him. Without another thought, I crossed the remaining distance between us and gently slipped my hand into his.

This time, instead of immediately intertwining our fingers the way he almost always did, there was the briefest hesitation. So brief I almost questioned whether I'd imagined it.

Then his hand closed around mine. Warm. Steady. Comfortingly familiar. I smiled to myself. Grief made people hesitate. It made ordinary things feel strangely unfamiliar. It made even the strongest wolves forget themselves for a heartbeat. That had to be all it was.

It never once occurred to me to search for another explanation. After all, if there was one thing I had never doubted, it was Ryder's love for me. Five years of marriage had built that certainty so deeply into my heart that I couldn't imagine a world where it no longer belonged there. So when he finally looked at me again, his expression softer than it had been only moments before, I smiled back without reservation, squeezed his hand gently, and silently promised myself that no matter how difficult this day became, I would remain exactly where I had vowed to stand all those years ago, at my mate's side.

The pack cemetery rested at the highest point of Crescent Moon territory, nestled beneath towering pine trees that had stood watch over generations of Blackwoods long before any of us had been born. It was said the Moon Goddess favoured the hill because the moon always seemed brightest there, illuminating the weathered stone markers that stretched across the landscape like silent reminders that even the strongest wolves eventually returned to the earth.

Today, however, there was no silver moonlight, only an overcast sky hanging low above us, heavy with rain that stubbornly refused to fall, as though the heavens themselves were holding their breath alongside the hundreds of wolves gathered in respectful silence around the polished ebony coffin resting before the ceremonial altar.

The only sounds came from the wind stirring the pine branches overhead and the High Priestess' solemn voice reciting the ancient prayers that had guided fallen wolves home for centuries. I stood where I had always stood since becoming Luna, at Ryder's right side, close enough that the sleeve of my dress brushed against his jacket whenever the wind shifted, my hands folded neatly in front of me while my gaze remained fixed upon the coffin. Every now and then I glanced toward Ryder, quietly checking whether he needed anything, but his expression remained composed, his attention fixed ahead with the unwavering discipline expected of an Alpha burying one of his own.

It wasn't until the High Priestess called for Jesse's immediate family to step forward that I finally saw them.

A woman emerged slowly from the front row of mourners, her movements hesitant beneath the weight of grief, one slender hand wrapped protectively around the small fingers of a little boy who couldn't have been older than six. My breath caught almost immediately because although I had imagined this moment countless times over the past three days, nothing had prepared me for the heartbreaking reality of it. Mirelle was beautiful in the quiet, understated way sorrow often made people appear, her dark hair gathered into a simple braid that rested over one shoulder, her pale face almost painfully drained of colour beneath the black mourning veil partially concealing her features. There was nothing extravagant about her appearance, nothing that sought attention, and yet my heart ached the instant I looked at her because no woman should have been standing where she was standing. No wife should have been saying goodbye to her husband so young.

My attention shifted to the little boy beside her.

Elias.

He clung to his mother's hand with both of his own, his tiny shoulders swallowed by the miniature black ceremonial jacket someone had carefully dressed him in that morning. He looked so impossibly small standing before his father's coffin that for one heartbreaking moment I had to look away, swallowing hard against the painful tightness rising in my throat. He didn't cry. He didn't speak. He simply stared at the polished wood before him with the quiet confusion only children seemed capable of carrying, as though he understood something terrible had happened but couldn't quite comprehend why everyone expected him to say goodbye forever. My heart broke all over again.

Poor child. Poor, sweet little boy. He would grow up knowing his father only through stories. Without thinking, I found myself hoping those stories were enough.

Beside me, I felt Ryder shift almost imperceptibly.

When I looked up, his eyes were fixed entirely on the child standing below us. I understood. Of course I did. That was his nephew. His little brother's son. The only piece of Jesse left behind. No wonder his expression had softened in a way I hadn't seen all morning.

Gently, I reached for Ryder's hand, intertwining our fingers in silent comfort, my thumb brushing across his knuckles as I silently reminded him that he wasn't carrying this grief alone. His fingers tightened around mine. Just once.

Then his attention returned to the ceremony. I followed his gaze back to Mirelle and Elias, silently promising myself that once the funeral was over and the first unbearable days of mourning had passed, I would finally get to know the family I should have met years ago.

After all... They were family now. And family belonged together.