Alpha Killian's True Luna

4

The next day arrived far too quickly. It felt as though I had only just closed my eyes against the hunger of the previous night before the sun was forcing its way through the curtains, demanding I begin the cycle all over again. I had made dinner yesterday—a long, grueling process of standing over steaming pots while my own stomach remained empty—and now, here I was back in the kitchen, the familiar scent of frying bacon and boiling coffee filling the air.

Once breakfast was prepped and served, my day wouldn't end. I had to go to the pack’s clinic.

There was a time, back when my life felt like it belonged to me, that I dreamed of becoming a surgeon. I wanted to be the one holding the scalpel, the one fixing what was broken, the one with the power to save lives. But my family never cared about what I wanted. To them, my life was just a piece of currency to be traded. They wanted the funding for their business, and they wanted the prestige of an alliance with the Smiths. So, my dreams were packed away like old childhood toys.

One of the few things Nicholas had allowed me to do back when we were still happily married was to help out at the clinic. He saw the way my eyes lit up when I talked about medicine, and back then, he wanted to nurture that light. I spent hours there, learning while I helped the head doctors, absorbing every bit of knowledge like a sponge.

To my surprise, he hasn't stopped me from going, even now. I often wonder why. Maybe he thinks he has nothing to lose by letting me go. Maybe he thinks that as long as I’ve finished my chores—the cooking, the cleaning, the serving—what I do with my remaining energy doesn't bother him.

Or perhaps, in some small, hidden corner of his heart that hasn't completely hardened against me, he thinks he should let me keep the one thing that still makes me happy. Even though he has taken everything else, he lets me have the clinic. It’s a strange kind of mercy, if you can even call it that.

I was stirring a pot of oatmeal, lost in the memory of a time when Nicholas would kiss my forehead before I left for my shift, when someone barged into the kitchen.

The sudden noise made me jump, the spoon clattering against the side of the pot.

It was one of the pack’s maids. In this house, they only bear the name of "maid" while I do the actual work, but they still carry themselves with an air of superiority that I can no longer challenge.

"The Alpha has summoned every pack member to be gathered in the main hall this minute," she announced. Her voice was clipped and bored, as if even speaking to me was a chore.

She turned to leave immediately, her job done.

"Am I invited too?" I blurted out after her. The question was out of my mouth before I could stop it. It was a pathetic thing to ask, but a part of me still craved to be seen as a member of the community I lived in.

She stopped for a second, looking back at me over her shoulder. There was no pity in her eyes, only a sort of weary disbelief. She didn't say a word; she just shook her head slowly and walked off, the sound of her footsteps fading into the hallway.

I stood there for a moment, feeling the sting of the silent rejection. I quickly wiped my hands on my apron and turned off the gas on the stove. A knot of anxiety began to tighten in my chest. If I left the kitchen now, breakfast wouldn't be ready on time.

I started praying that they wouldn't lash out at me the moment the meeting ended. The thought of being scolded or worse because the food wasn't on the table was enough to make my hands start shaking again.

I hurried toward the main hall, trying to keep my breathing steady. By the time I arrived, the room was already packed. People were lined up all the way to the door, their voices a low, rumbling murmur that felt like a physical weight.

I didn't try to push through the crowd; I knew my place. I stood off to the side, pressing myself against the wall where I could still see what was happening at the center of the hall without being in anyone’s way.

I felt like an intruder in my own home. I watched the faces of the people I had served for years—people who used to call me Luna—and saw how easily they had erased me from their lives.

The room went silent the moment the heavy doors at the front opened.

Nicholas walked in, his stride confident and powerful, every inch the Alpha his people feared and respected. But he wasn't alone. He was holding hands with Sophia.

The sight of them together, their fingers entwined so naturally, never failed to pierce my heart. It was a fresh wound every single time. They didn't even glance my way. They didn't look for me in the crowd or acknowledge the woman who still legally carried his name. They just walked straight to the center of the hall, the space clearing for them as they moved.

Nicholas reached the center and stopped. He looked around the room, his eyes sharp and commanding, ensuring he had everyone’s absolute attention. Beside him, Sophia looked poised and calm, the image of a woman who knew exactly where she belonged.

He cleared his throat, the sound echoing through the high-arched ceiling of the hall. I gripped the fabric of my skirt, my heart pounding so hard I was sure the people standing near me could hear it. I didn't know what he was going to say, but I knew that in this house, news from Nicholas was rarely good for me.

I watched him, the man I had once thought was my entire world, and realized that I was looking at a stranger. The passion I had once known was gone, replaced by a cold, hard authority that left no room for me. As he prepared to speak, I felt smaller than I ever had before, a human shadow in a room full of wolves, waiting to hear how my life was going to change next.