Aria
The room fell quiet as I stepped into the border tent.
Three visiting Alphas, two trackers from our eastern ridge, and a handful of skeptical Blue Stone elders all turned to look at me. There was no Matthew beside me, no shadow of his authority standing over my shoulder. Just me, my crest, and the weight of my words.
“We aren’t here to posture,” I began, laying the territory map across the table. “We’re here to protect what’s ours—and avoid bloodshed.”
The visiting Alphas—one from Red Hollow, the other from Nightpine—glanced at each other but said nothing.
I kept going.
I outlined our border shifts, explained our new watch rotations, and proposed a shared patrol route along the disputed ridge. I didn’t raise my voice. I didn’t smile to soften the edge of my commands. I stood straight, kept my voice even, and refused to flinch when one of them questioned my right to speak.
“I don’t speak because I’m Luna,” I said. “I speak because I’ve bled for this pack.”
There was no applause when I left. But no one argued, either. And that silence? That was the beginning of respect.
By sunset, the whispers had changed. They no longer asked how I got the title. They started to ask how I was keeping it. But not everyone was happy. Especially not Matthew.
I found him waiting for me near the eastern balcony that night, arms crossed, eyes hard.
“You didn’t tell me you were taking the lead today.”
“I didn’t think I needed permission,” I replied, brushing past him.
“You didn’t,” he muttered, then added, “But it would’ve been nice to know before half the council came to me asking why Luna was calling shots without her Alpha.”
I turned slowly. “So you’re embarrassed.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“But it’s what you meant.”
His jaw tightened. “No. What I meant is that Elias has been in your ear more than I have lately.”
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
“He’s using you,” Matthew snapped. “To undermine me. To make you question every decision I make.”
“You really believe that?” I asked, incredulous.
“He’s always been after you, Aria. Now you’re letting him get close enough to twist everything between us.”
I took a slow, deliberate step forward.
“No,” I said. “You’re the one tearing us apart. Not him. You.”
Matthew looked like I’d slapped him.
I kept going, voice shaking now—not from fear, but fury.
“You rearranged my life to keep me close. You stopped trusting me the moment I stopped depending on you. And now, the second I stand on my own, you treat it like betrayal.”
Matthew’s voice cracked as he spoke. “I’m afraid I’ll lose you.”
For a heartbeat, my anger faltered. But only for a heartbeat.
“You already are,” I said, quietly. Then I turned and walked away. He didn’t follow.
The moon hung low that night, and I couldn’t sleep.
I stared at the ceiling of the Luna quarters, trying to calm the storm inside me. I didn’t know what hurt more—his words, or the fact that I still wanted to believe he could change.
That he could love me without caging me. A soft knock echoed in the hall. I didn’t answer it. Instead, I stayed in bed, eyes wide open, heart heavy.
I didn’t know that outside, under that same moonlight, Matthew was still awake too.
And he wasn’t done breaking things.
He found Elias standing at the foot of the steps near the Luna quarters, arms crossed, head tilted toward the stars like he was deep in thought.
He didn’t see Matthew until it was too late.
The sound of a sharp punch cracked through the quiet. And Elias stumbled back, blood dripping from his lip.