The Sacred Luna

Chapter 19

(Sanya's POV)

My heart stutters. "He doesn't care about me. We barely know each other."

"He was terrified yesterday. When you disappeared. I've seen him face down enemy Alphas without flinching, but yesterday he was genuinely scared." Marcus holds my gaze. "That's not nothing."

"It's complicated—"

"It always is." He stands. "I'm not here to interrogate you about why you risk your life for herbs. That's between you and him. I'm here to ask you to be careful. Not just for your safety. For his."

"His safety? He's the Head Alpha—"

"His heart, Luna Sanya." Marcus moves toward the door. "He's spent his entire life protecting it. Building walls. Maintaining distance. And you're systematically destroying every defense he has. So I'm asking you—if you're going to break through those walls, please don't break him in the process."

He leaves before I can respond.

I sit in the silent room, Marcus's words echoing in my head.

If you're going to break through those walls, please don't break him in the process.

But what if I'm the one who's already broken? What if every moment of connection is just another lie? What if the person Zaiden is starting to care about doesn't actually exist—she's just a carefully constructed illusion hiding a Sacred Luna who could destroy everything he's built?

The divine aura surges against my suppressant magic, responding to my distress. I pull out a vial and take a dose, feeling it burn through my veins.

The light recedes. My breathing steadies.

But the guilt remains.

Zaiden doesn't return until late evening. I hear him enter the study, hear papers shuffling, hear the familiar sounds of him burying himself in work.

I should leave him alone. Should maintain the distance he's clearly trying to reestablish.

Instead, I find myself standing outside his study door.

I knock softly.

"Enter."

He's at his desk—facing the room now, in the position I rearranged it to. Papers are spread across the surface in organized chaos, sorted by my system of urgency and category rather than his old chronological method.

He's kept my changes. Even after everything. Even after I reorganized his life without permission.

"I'm sorry," I say before he can speak. "About the scouts. About not telling you immediately. About being reckless."

He doesn't look up from his papers. "Marcus talked to you."

"He's worried about you."

"He should worry about himself. And you should worry about your safety." His voice is flat. Controlled. "I've doubled the eastern patrols. Adjusted our defensive positions. The council has approved additional resources for border security."

"That's good."

"It's necessary." He finally looks up, and his eyes are tired. Guarded. "Because apparently enemy scouts are operating close enough to the compound to have detailed intelligence about our operations. Which means we're vulnerable. Which means everyone in this pack is at risk."

"I really am sorry—"

"Stop apologizing." He sets down his pen. "What's done is done. The information was useful, even if it came late. We're adapting. That's all we can do."

The formal tone. The careful distance. The walls firmly back in place.

"Are we going to talk about last night?" I ask quietly.

"What's there to talk about?"

"You said—"

"I said a lot of things I shouldn't have." He returns to his papers. "It was late. I was tired. We should both forget it happened."

"Can you? Forget it happened?"

His hand stills on the paper he's not actually reading. "I have to."

"Why?"

"Because this—" He gestures between us. "—whatever this is becoming, it's dangerous. It's a distraction we can't afford. There's a war happening. Enemy scouts in our territory. Real threats that require real focus. I can't afford to be—" He stops himself.

"To be what?" I push.

"Compromised." The word comes out harsh. "I can't afford to be compromised by feelings I shouldn't have for someone I barely know. Someone who was forced into this marriage just like I was. Someone who—" He stops again, jaw clenched.

"Someone who what?"

He's quiet for a long moment. Then: "Someone who might leave the moment they get a chance."

The admission hangs between us like an accusation.

"I told you I'm not leaving," I say.

"You also told me you'd be careful. That you'd take guards. That you'd follow basic safety protocols." His eyes meet mine, and there's pain in them. Real pain. "How do I trust anything you say when you keep breaking promises?"

The words hit like physical blows.

"You're right," I say quietly. "I haven't given you any reason to trust me. I've been reckless and secretive and—" I stop. Take a breath. "I'm trying. I know that's not good enough. But I am trying."

"Try harder." He returns to his papers with finality. "I have work to do. You should sleep."

It's a dismissal. Clear and absolute.

I leave him alone in his study, my chest tight with emotions I can't name. Guilt. Shame. Longing. Fear.

The dangerous cocktail of feelings that comes from wanting something you can't have. From caring about someone who can't afford to care back. From building connection on a foundation of lies.

In the bedroom, I lie awake for hours, listening for Zaiden to emerge from his study. Listening for any sign that the warmth from last night wasn't just a mistake we're both trying to forget.

But he doesn't come.

And when I finally fall into restless sleep, I dream of divine light breaking through suppressant magic. Of walls crumbling. Of lies exposed.

Of Zaiden's face when he finally learns the truth about what I am.

In the dream, he looks at me with betrayal so complete it makes his earlier pain seem like nothing.

In the dream, I lose him before I ever really had him.

I wake in the dark, gasping, my suppressant magic flickering weakly. The divine aura presses against my skin, almost breaking through.

I stumble to the bathroom and down another dose—my third today, far more than I should need.

The light recedes. Barely.

I'm running out of time.

The suppressants are getting weaker. The stress is making them less effective. The emotional turmoil is feeding the divine aura, making it harder to contain.

And Zaiden—

Zaiden is starting to look at me like I matter. Like I'm something more than duty and obligation. Like I'm someone he could care about if he let himself.

Which makes every lie that much worse.

Which makes the inevitable truth that much more devastating.

I return to bed and lie in the darkness, listening to the empty space beside me where Zaiden should be.

Wondering how much longer I can maintain this charade.

Wondering if the connection we're building is worth the destruction that will come when it all falls apart.

Wondering if maybe—just maybe—I should have run when I had the chance.

Before it became this complicated.

Before I started caring.

Before I started wanting to stay.

But it's too late now.

The walls are crumbling. The lies are multiplying. The divine aura is strengthening.

And somewhere between herb lessons and reorganized studies and midnight confessions, I stopped running from this marriage.

Now I'm running toward something I can never have.

A real partnership. Real trust. Real connection.

With a man who deserves honesty I can never give him.

The cruelest cage isn't the one forced on you from outside.

It's the one you build yourself, brick by brick, lie by lie, until you're trapped in a prison of your own making.

And I've built mine so well that even I can't see a way out anymore.