Alpha Killian's True Luna

2

"Make yourself useful for once, you wretch! It’s been minutes since you walked into this kitchen to make lunch and you just stand there, deliberately starving everyone in the pack!"

The voice hit me like a slap, pulling me out of my thoughts and back into the cold kitchen. I turned toward the doorway, my heart leaping into my throat. There stood Lady Morgan, Nicholas’s mother and the former Luna of the Emberwood pack. Her face was twisted with that same familiar disgust, her eyes staring at me like I was dirt she’d found stuck to her shoe.

"I’m sorry," I whispered. My voice sounded tiny and empty in the big room. I looked down at the floor, unable to meet her eyes. My hands, still shaking from the memories I’d been lost in, held tight to the edge of the counter until my knuckles went white.

"You’ll be sorry for yourself if lunch is not served in five minutes," she snapped, her voice getting louder with every word. She took a step closer, filling the space with her cold presence. "I’m sure you want Nicholas to hear about this. I’m sure he’d love to know how his 'wife' can’t even handle the simplest tasks."

Just hearing his name made my stomach twist. I looked up at her, eyes wide and begging. The thought of Nicholas being called in, seeing that new cold look on his face when he looked at me, was too much.

"Please," I said, my voice trembling. "I’ll get lunch out soon, Lady Morgan. I just… I got distracted. It won’t happen again."

I hoped for even a little kindness, one moment where she might remember I was the woman her son once said he loved. But nothing changed. Her face stayed hard. If anything, her lip curled more in distaste. Without another word, she turned and walked away, her footsteps echoing down the hall.

My name is Selene, and I used to be the wife of Nicholas Smith, the Alpha of the Emberwood pack—the most feared Alpha in the region. There was a time, not so long ago, when I believed I had everything. I thought I had found a love that would last through anything, a pack that accepted me as one of their own, and a home that finally felt safe. But all of it was a lie, a pretty dream that broke apart on the night of my second wedding anniversary.

That was the day Nicholas brought them home: Sophia, his late brother’s mate, and their two-year-old son.

He hadn’t told me anything. No call, no warning, no talk about bringing another woman and a child into our life. He chose the very day we were supposed to celebrate us—our marriage, our two years together.

The hall had been full of guests, the air filled with the smell of rich food and loud laughter. I stood there in my new dress, feeling like the luckiest woman alive, waiting for him to toast to our future. But when he stepped up, it wasn’t my hand he held. He stood there with Sophia beside him, the little boy holding onto his leg, and told the whole pack they were here to stay.

He said he had already arranged everything to adopt the boy legally.

I remember how the whole room went quiet, how every pair of eyes turned to me with pity and confusion. The shame washed over me so hard it felt like I couldn’t breathe. What did he think I was? So unimportant that I didn’t even deserve to know our family was changing forever? Doing it in front of everyone, throwing the hurt right in my face for all to see—that betrayal cut deep.

I couldn’t hold myself together. I ran out of the hall. I didn’t care who saw my tears. I just needed to get away. I went straight home, locked myself in our bedroom, and waited for him. I really believed that once the night was over, he would come to his senses. He would see how much he’d hurt me and come explain, say he was sorry.

But he didn’t.

When he finally came home, there was no apology. Only anger. He shouted that I had embarrassed him in front of the pack, blamed me for running off like a child and showing "petty jealousy" when he was just doing the right thing for his family.

From that night on, everything changed. The warmth in our home died. I am no longer the Luna. I am a ghost here, a servant to the pack and to the woman who took my place.

I remember one afternoon a few weeks back when I finally found the courage to speak up. I went to his office and told him, trying to keep my voice steady, that he needed to send her away. I said I couldn’t live like this, sharing my husband and my home with his brother’s mate.

He looked me straight in the eyes, so cold it felt like ice running through me. His words still ring in my head every time I close my eyes.

"If you ever bring this up again, or try to make me choose between you and Sophia, I will reject you right on the spot," he said, his voice low and hard. "Sophia is here to stay. Get used to it."

A single tear fell down my cheek and landed on the kitchen floor. I stared at it for a moment, then quickly wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. I couldn’t cry now. I remembered Lady Morgan’s threat, the thought of Nicholas’s disappointed face, and the five-minute deadline.

I started moving fast, my heart pounding. I put the plates on the trays, my fingers clumsy with the utensils. I scooped out the stew, the steam hitting my face, but I hardly noticed the heat. All I felt was the empty pain in my chest that never left.

I picked up the first tray and carried the food out to the dining hall. I moved between the tables, serving the pack members who once respected me but now barely glanced my way. I kept my head down, doing the work, trying not to hear the whispers that followed me. I was a wretch, a servant, a woman whose own husband had looked at her and decided she wasn’t worth choosing. As I set each plate down, I knew this was my life now—serving a pack that had forgotten me, in a home that no longer belonged to me.