The Discarded Luna of Crestfall

- CARMEN Three years of staring at red ink usually made my stomach turn, but tonight, looking down at the bloody mess of numbers, I couldn't care less. I blew on the wet page, watching the numbers settle. Crestfall’s debts were cleared. Every single line of credit, every unpaid supply ran to the northern borders, wiped clean. I leaned back in my creaky wooden chair, rubbing the dull ache in my lower back, and let out a long breath. He promised, "Clear the pack accounts, Carmen. Get us out of the red, and I’ll put the Luna ring on your finger in front of everyone." Today was Justin’s twenty-eighth birthday. It was supposed to be the day. Outside my tiny back room, the hallway echoed with footsteps and loud, booming laughter. The party was already in full swing in the grand hall. I smoothed down my faded cotton dress, checking my reflection in the dusty mirror hanging by the door. I looked tired, my dark circles standing out against pale skin, but my heart was beating so fast it felt ridiculous. Three years of sitting in this windowless hole of a tiny back room, running his territory’s finances in secret, reading oracle visions until my eyes bled. It was all worth it. I stepped out into the corridor, holding a small wrapped box in my hands. Inside was a leather-bound journal I’d spent two weeks restoring; the only thing he’d ever asked me for wasn't a bank statement. Before I could reach the main doors, a hand grabbed my elbow and yanked me into the shadow of the pantry alcove. "What do you think you're doing?" It was Victoria Randall, Justin's mother. Her diamond earrings caught the light, her eyes were pinched tight, and her eyes darted frantically down the hallway behind me, checking if anyone had seen us. "I’m going into the hall," I said, keeping my voice gentle and careful around her. "Justin said..." "Justin is busy," she snapped, lowering her voice to a harsh hiss. "Look at you. You look like a servant. You are a servant until I say otherwise. You stay back here. Out of sight. Do not ruin tonight for him." "It's his birthday," I whispered. "He told me today he'd announce..." "He announced what he needed to announce." She stepped closer, her perfume choking me. "Go back to your room, Carmen. Keep your mouth shut and don't make a scene." She shoved past me, her heels making a sharp clacking sound across the stone floor. My stomach dropped. I didn't go back to my room. This time I didn't obey her as I always did. My gut told me something was off tonight, and I needed to confirm it myself. I crept toward the heavy oak doors leading to the ballroom instead, staying behind the tall velvet curtains near the side entrance. The hall was packed. Golden, ornate lighting glowed overhead, lighting up the hundreds of wolves gathered in their finest clothes. And right in the center of the dais stood Justin. He looked handsome and charismatic. Tailored suit, hair pushed back, that easy smile he always used when he wanted people to like him. But he wasn't standing alone. Arm in arm with him was a girl in a silk dress the color of champagne. Her hair fell in soft blonde waves, and a diamond necklace wrapped around her neck, worth more than my entire year's food budget for the pack house. Justin raised his glass, his voice booming through the microphone, echoing off the high rafters. "To the future of Crestfall!" he called out, his grin widening as he looked down at the girl beside him. "Tonight, I don't just celebrate another year of life. I celebrate the Moon Goddess's greatest gift. Meet my fated mate, and your new Luna, Jessica Osmond!" The crowd erupted all at once. Cheers filled the hall, wolves howled with excitement, and glasses clinked together as everyone celebrated. I froze. The breath rushed out of my lungs all at once, leaving me cold. I pressed my back against the stone wall behind the curtain, my fingers tightening around the wrapped journal until the cardboard crumpled beneath my nails. "Fated mate," I muttered. He turned to Jessica with a warm, loving smile, pulled her by the waist, and kissed her right there on the stage. The pack roared in approval. Justin’s mother was in the front row, clapping her hands, a triumphant look plastered on her face. I knew her well. Jessica Osmond. The daughter of the Silverpeak Alpha. She had been visiting this pack recently. Now I know why. All those private lunches with Justin and his mother, the endless late-night meetings in the formal study, the sudden rush to redecorate the main guest suite; it wasn't about a regional trade agreement at all. It was a trade of a different kind. I was the fool slaving away in the dark, balancing their books so they’d have enough money left over to court a high-born heiress. I don't remember how I got back to my room. One second I was watching them dance under the sparking lights, and the next I was sitting on the edge of my narrow cot, staring at the blank wall. The noise from the party drifted through the floorboards. Hours bled together. The fire in the tiny hearth died down to gray ash, leaving the room freezing. My fingers were stiff, but I couldn't bring myself to stand up and light another log. Around midnight, the heavy iron latch on my door clicked. I didn't lift my head. "Justin?" "It's me," a deep voice said. I looked up. It wasn't Justin. Standing in the doorway was Beta Gilbert Mueller. He was huge, filling the narrow frame, his dark hair damp from the light snow outside. He wore his heavy black Enforcer coat, a silver blade strapped tight to his thigh. He looked like he always did. Cold, lethal, and silent. The kind of man people cleared a path for in the courtyard. He was Alpha Justin’s lethal second-in-command, the enforcing shadow that kept the entire territory in line when orders turned bloody. Yet here he was, towering over my cramped doorway, bringing cold scraps to a wolfless girl he was supposed to ignore. He was holding a silver tray. On it was a cold, grease-stained plate with half-eaten meat rolls, a stale piece of bread, and a folded piece of paper. "Alpha sent this," Gilbert said. His voice was low, rough around the edges like gravel. I stared at the tray. "Leftovers?" Gilbert didn't answer right away. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him, locking out the noise of the halls. He looked down at the plate, his jaw clenched as a muscle twitched near his ear. "There's a note," he said softly. I reached out with trembling hands and pulled the paper off the tray. Justin's sloppy handwriting was scrawled across the middle: "Enjoy the food. I'll come down later tonight and explain everything. Don't be dramatic." A quiet, bitter laugh escaped my throat before I could stop it. I tossed the note onto the floor. "He's not coming down here, is he?" Gilbert looked at me. His dark eyes were hard to read, but he didn't look away. "No." "Right." I turned my face toward the cold hearth, wrapping my arms around my knees. "Of course he isn't." My chest tightened until I could barely breathe. The sharp and bitter words spilled out of me, breaking the quiet of the room. "Gilbert, he broke his promises. Every single one of them. He swore he’d announce our marriage today. He swore that the moment the pack debts were clear, I’d be his Luna. And then he walked out on that stage, took another woman in his arms, and laughed happily like I never existed." I swallowed back a dry, painful sob, staring blindly into the gray ashes. "What am I supposed to do now? Just swallow it? Pretend the last three years were a bad dream? Should I give up my hope to stand beside him? How do you just stop hoping for the only future you were ever promised?" Gilbert stood motionless in the dim light, his silhouette blocking the light. He didn't offer fake comfort or hollow platitudes. He looked down at me without saying anything, his eyes holding mine without wavering. "A promise from a man who measures your worth by what you sacrifice isn't a promise, Carmen," Gilbert said softly in a low and firm voice. "It's a leash. You don't give up hope; you just stop tying it to a man who leaves you in the dark." I heard the sound of silver scraping against wood. I looked back. Gilbert had set the tray down on my desk, picked up the plate of scraps, and thrown the whole thing directly into the trash bin in the corner. "What are you doing?" I asked, numb. "If he finds out..." "No, he won't give a damn," Gilbert cut in. He unbuttoned his heavy fur-lined cloak, pulled it off, and tossed it over my legs. The leather was still warm from his shoulders, smelling faintly of pine and cold air. Then, reaching into his inner coat pocket, he pulled out a clean, linen-wrapped bundle and set it on my lap. I unwrapped it. Inside was a thick slice of roasted lamb, fresh bread that was still warm, and a small glass jar filled with steaming tea. "You haven't eaten since yesterday morning," Gilbert said flatly. He pulled the chair out of the desk, turned it around, and sat down, his long legs stretching across the tiny floor space. "Eat." I stared at the warm bread. My chest felt like it was tearing open, piece by piece. "Did Justin send this too?" I whispered, holding onto a tiny, stupid sliver of hope. "Did he tell you to bring me something real?" Gilbert looked at me for a long moment. His face was stoic, like it was carved out of stone, but his eyes softened slightly. "Eat your food, Carmen," he said quietly, refusing to answer the question. I took a small bite of the bread. It tasted like nothing, but the warmth crept into my hands. I thought about Justin up in the master suite, holding and f*****g his Luna. And then I looked at Gilbert, sitting silently in the dark room, guarding my door like he had done a hundred times before. Just another little kindness from the pack, I told myself, chewing slowly while the tears finally spilled over. Just Gilbert doing his job.