The Alpha's Shadow Luna

Go, I told myself. Just go. He was my fiancé, so why did approaching him feel like walking toward my execution? I wove between knots of packmates, forcing certainty into my steps. A few younger wolves eyed me with sad, knowing smiles that made my stomach twist. Did they see it too? The way I was unraveling? Shane's gaze lifted when my shadow fell across the bench. I saw a flicker of something … annoyance, or maybe dread? He quickly hid it behind a smile. The one that never reached his eyes anymore. "Hey," I said, cursing the catch in my voice. "Hey yourself." He slid over. "You're late. I was about to send a search party." "I had to help Anton with inventory." The lie came easily, using my brother to hide the truth. I'd stood outside for fifteen minutes, trying to convince myself to go in, that I still mattered to him. He laughed, but it was automatic. "Always the good sister." That stung more than it should have. Good sister. Never the good fiancé. Never the one he wanted. I buried the hurt by reaching for drinks at the bar, my hands shaking as I shoved the heavy glass toward him. It sloshed, spilling foam onto his thumb. Shane's eyes flicked to it, irritation crossing his features before he wiped the spill with his sleeve. "Trying to get me drunk before the big hunt?" "Wouldn't be the first time," I shot back, desperate for our old rhythm. It died as soon as it landed, suffocated by everything unsaid between us. He doesn't want you here. He wishes you'd leave. He's counting the seconds until Mary arrives. I tried again, hating myself for trying. "Did you see the signups? They want us to split into teams." "Yeah, I saw." Shane's eyes drifted over my shoulder toward the senior warriors. Anywhere but me. "They're keeping formation tight this year. No solo runs." I was practically begging for an invitation to his team. "Maybe they don't want a repeat of last year's incident." He shrugged but didn't invite me. Instead, he pivoted. "Mary's running logistics, so you know it'll be efficient. Nobody does overkill like your sister." Of course he'd bring up Mary. He always did. I forced a laugh. "Don't let her hear you say that." His mouth twitched in what might have been a real smile, but his eyes kept flickering away—to the elders, the warriors, the door. The whole world, except me. "Are you nervous?" I asked finally, lowering my voice. "About tomorrow?" He was the pack's Beta, and I knew the pressure he felt to win, especially since my brother wouldn't be participating this year. Anton had kept to himself since losing his mate, suffocating in his pain. Shane tilted his head, then shook it off. "No. Just another hunt." I studied the scar near his thumb, the one I'd traced a thousand times in the early days when he used to pull me close and tell me his secrets. Back when I was someone he confided in instead of someone he tolerated. "You don't have to pretend with me," I said softly. Please just let me in. He froze mid-tap. For a second, I thought I'd broken through. But then he looked up, and I realized he'd built walls behind those eyes so high I could barely see sky. "I'm not pretending," he said, tone flat and cold. "It's just a hunt, Leah." Just a hunt. Just a conversation. Just a relationship. Just ... nothing. I felt the sting like a slap. I wanted to argue, to scream, for him to just talk to me. I didn’t know why we were engaged anymore. I'd already lost him. I just wish I knew what changed. Mary swept in with the quiet subtlety of a comet. Even from here, I could hear her laughter—bright, confident, everything I wasn't. She effortlessly bent the crowd's attention around her. I tried not to notice how Shane straightened, how the tiredness fell away from his face. How he came alive for her in a way he never did for me anymore. The contrast was devastating. I was exhausting. She was exhilarating. I picked up my glass. "If you want to go talk to her, you can." Shane's eyes snapped back to me, guilt flashing. "What? No, I'm right here." But he wasn't. Every part of him that mattered was already halfway across the room, pulled toward Mary. I took a long drink. "She's got some new strategy planned, I'm sure." Shane grinned, and there it was—the old spark, but not for me. For the idea of Mary. "Yeah. She's relentless." The admiration in his voice was poisoning me. "I'm just hoping she lets us have breakfast first," I said, rewarded with a real laugh. Warm enough to make me remember why I'd stayed long past when I should have walked away. We used to have a real connection. It was why I fell in love with him. Then the crowd parted and Mary locked eyes with us, her face lighting up with calculated delight. Shane waved, more enthusiastic than he'd been all night. "She's coming over," I whispered. "Yeah," he replied, almost sheepish. "You don't mind, do you?" Yes. I mind that you light up for her. I mind that I've become invisible. "Of course not," I lied. Mary reached us in seconds, her hand resting on Shane's arm just a second too long. Then she turned to me, something flashing in her eyes. Pity? Victory? "Leah," she said, voice syrupy. "I see you've kept our future champion company." Our. Not your fiancé. Just ... ours. I mustered a smile. "Someone has to keep him out of trouble." Mary laughed and slid onto the bench between us, inserting herself into the space I'd been trying to fill. They fell into conversation so smoothly, their words flowing like water while I sat there, a stone in the current. Inside jokes I wasn't part of. References I didn't understand. A whole relationship I wasn't invited to. I watched Shane lean toward her, his face relaxed, really laughing at her jokes. Every time I tried to interject, my words shattered before they hit the air. After a while, I gave up and stared into my glass. This was it. Sitting beside my fiancé while he fell in love with my sister, pretending it didn't kill me. Nobody noticed when I slipped out, letting the door close with a soft, final click. I made it three steps before my knees buckled. I pressed my forehead against the cold stone as tears finally came. They were silent, hot, furious tears I'd been holding back all night. All month. I was losing him. No, the truth was I'd already lost him. The door opened behind me, spilling light and laughter, and I quickly wiped my face. Someone passed without looking, and I was grateful for their indifference. Outside, the air bit into my skin. I wandered away from the hall, telling myself I just needed air, that I'd go back in a few minutes. But I knew the truth. I wasn't ready for what was coming. I lingered longer than I'd meant to, watching dusk gather. When I finally returned, the hall had filled even more. I made it halfway through the crowd before I saw them. Mary had taken my place on the bench, radiant in the firelight, her hair perfectly arranged to look effortless. Shane sat beside her, knees nearly touching, and for once he wasn't looking away. He was focused, every muscle aimed toward her. Mary noticed me—she always did. She raised a hand, her smile a victory banner. "Leah! There you are. I was beginning to think you'd left for good." Shane turned as if waking from a dream. "She needed some air." Mary patted the space next to her. "Don't stand there like a scolded pup. Sit." I slid onto the edge of the seat, careful not to crowd her. "Big day tomorrow, huh?" Mary's eyes sparkled. "Shane, I heard you almost had Anton flat on his back in training yesterday." Shane grinned. "He got cocky." "That's Anton for you." Mary laughed. "It's not the brawn, it's the brains. And you, darling, have plenty of both." Her fingers brushed Shane's forearm. The contact lit Shane up. He didn't glance at me as he recounted the story. Mary laughed in all the right places. The other wolves edged closer, drawn to the heat. I tried to contribute, but every time I opened my mouth, Mary had a sharper joke ready. Even when the conversation touched on me, it was as if I were a character in one of Mary's stories—interesting only because of how she told it. Someone brought over a fresh pitcher. Mary poured for Shane first, then herself, then me, leaving just enough in my cup to look generous. At one point, Mary started a story about something that happened a month ago, some prank that ended with them running barefoot through snow. I realized I wasn't even in the memory. It was just them. "She has a wild streak, doesn’t she?" Shane said, looking at Mary like she was a constellation. Mary shrugged, eyes soft. "Someone has to keep you from becoming boring." They grinned at each other, the connection between them obvious. I couldn't even be angry. Just empty.