Chapter 04
1190 Words
Chapter 4
Sora's POV
I didn't make it.
The nurse told me afterward that she waited. That the old Luna kept asking for someone, kept watching the door, right to the end.
I drove as fast as I could. It wasn't enough.
If I could shift into wolf and run there, I'd be faster. But I cannot.
Forty-eight hours after Grandma dies, I'm a machine. A precise, perfectly running machine. About to break.
I check every detail of the funeral. I go over the Moonrise Ceremony with the elders, again and again. I get the New Moon members from out of town settled into their rooms.
I slept three hours total. Face down on the wooden desk in the small study.
In my dreams, Grandma is squeezing my wrist. The way she did when she was alive. The old Luna of the pack. She was always good to me.
When I wake up, dried tears crust the corners of my eyes.
Ethan moves through the house like a man in a fog. He is genuinely grieving. I know what his grandmother meant to him. I move around him carefully, handle the things that need handling, and I don't ask him to look at me.
I owe her a perfect farewell. That's the shape the guilt has taken.
So I pour everything into making this funeral perfect. To fill the hole in my chest.
The morning of the funeral, I put on a black lace dress.
The mirror shows a face so pale it's almost translucent.
A wave of dizziness hits. My legs buckle. I grip the vanity to stay upright.
Two days without food. Low blood sugar. I fumble in the drawer for a piece of candy. Shove it in my mouth. The tiny sweetness gives me just enough to keep moving.
Even with the candy, my limp slows me down.
I'm forty minutes late.
Ancestor Grove.
The most sacred place in the New Moon Pack. Every important ritual happens here. Every funeral. Every coronation.
The oaks block out the sun. The ground is covered in rotting leaves. Every step feels like I'm walking on the weight of history. On the bones of the dead.
I drag my aching leg into the center of the crowd.
My heart locks up.
Ethan stands at the heart of the ceremony. Like a black marble statue.
The woman beside him isn't me.
It's Lyra.
She's wearing a perfectly cut black designer dress. Her hair is in a low bun. The restrained grief on her face is performance art. She's good at it.
But the worst part is what's beside her.
Her hand is gently holding Yuki's.
My daughter is wearing a black dress I've never seen before. She's leaning into Lyra's side. Quiet. Soft. Like a doll.
The three of them look like a family.
The pack members go up one by one to pay respects. They glance at the three figures up front. They walk away with that satisfied look. The look that says this is how it should be.
I remember the first time Grandma introduced me publicly.
She gripped my wrist hard. She told the whole pack: "This is Ethan's Mate. My granddaughter-in-law."
That grip is gone now.
The last shield I had in this pack is gone.
I take a breath. I push through the crowd. I plant myself beside Ethan.
He frowns. His beautiful brow tightens. The first thing he says is a complaint.
"You're late."
He doesn't ask why. He doesn't notice the last two days I gave to make this happen.
"Ethan. We need to talk. Now."
He doesn't soften. His eyes are pure impatience.
"Can you not cause a scene? At a funeral?"
I open my mouth to answer.
Violet appears out of nowhere. Her long fingers clamp around my arm. Her nails dig into my skin. Her voice drops into a hiss.
"This is not the time. Make a fool of yourself here, and I'll make you regret being born."
Lyra moves gracefully then.
She lets go of Yuki. Her hands move to support Violet.
"Violet. You're tired. Let me get you somewhere to rest. Give them some space."
She passes me. Her eyes are calm. No sneer. Nothing.
Because she already knows she's won.
The whispers crawl over me like needles.
"Late on a day like this..."
"Look at her. She doesn't deserve to be Luna."
Ethan has already turned to greet the next guest. His back is broad. Cold. Indifferent.
I stand in the smoke from the torches. I watch the woman named Lyra slowly take everything that's mine.
My husband. My daughter. My place in this world.
"You haven't eaten in two days. Drink this first."
A hot cup of cocoa is pressed into my hand.
It's Ian.
The pack's best surgeon. The only person here who looks at me like I'm a person. Not a project. Not a failure.
He doesn't give me empty comfort. He just rests a hand on my arm. Tells me Grandma went peacefully.
The tears I've held in for two days finally fall.
"Interesting."
Ethan's voice cuts in. I didn't hear him come back.
He's staring at where Ian's hand is on my arm. His eyes are dark. Dangerous.
"My wife is late to the funeral. But she has the energy to find comfort in another man's arms."
Ian lifts his head. He doesn't flinch. He stares right back at the most powerful Alpha in this pack.
"Alpha Ethan. Before you accuse her—maybe look at your wife. She hasn't slept in two days. She put this funeral together herself."
Ethan's eyes hold on Ian's face. He says nothing.
He turns. Walks away.
Ian lowers his head. He keeps his eyes forward. He speaks low enough that only I can hear.
"Don't let him do that to you."
I keep my head down. I don't answer.
The ceremony ends. The lawyer announces it's time to read the will.
I head upstairs to find Yuki.
I push the guest room door open just a c***k.
I hear silvery laughter inside.
Yuki is curled up in Lyra's lap. Her cheeks are flushed pink. Her face is serious. She's giving Lyra advice.
"Lyra. You should never have a baby with Daddy. I heard him say it. Having a baby is really scary. There's lots of blood. People can even die!"
She waves her tiny hands. There's a horrible innocence in her voice.
"Having a brother is something Mommy should do. Daddy says Mommy already had me. She's used to it. She won't be scared at all."
Every bit of air gets sucked out of my lungs.
I fall through the floor.
Yuki is six.
She has no idea what an amniotic embolism is. She has no idea what childbirth risk means.
Those words. Those words that treat my life like a cheap, replaceable supply—
There is only one person in this house who would have said them to her.
The man who's downstairs right now. Accepting the dignity built for him.
My Mate.
Ethan.
What has he been telling our daughter about me, behind my back?
- Writer
