Aria
I pushed him away.
Breathless. Shaken. My heart pounded like a war drum inside my chest, and my hands trembled as they pressed against Elias’s firm chest.
“Don’t,” I whispered, voice cracking. “Don’t make this harder than it already is.”
His face didn’t twist with guilt. He didn’t flinch. His gaze remained steady, sad but unrepentant.
“I won’t apologize,” Elias said quietly. “You deserve a choice, Aria. Not a cage. And he—he keeps you locked behind bars made of silence.”
Tears prickled behind my eyes, but I blinked them back. I’d cried too much already. Over Matthew. Over this bond. Over a pack that never wanted me.
“I’m his mate,” I said hollowly.
Elias tilted his head. “No. You’re more than that. You’re a person. A Luna. A woman with a fire I’ve seen grow since the moment you got here. You’re not some prize to be claimed. You deserve to be chosen—not used.”
And just like that, he was gone—back into the shadows, leaving me alone in a Luna suite that felt more like a prison with every breath I took.
By morning, things got worse.
Alpha Ryle’s voice thundered through the hall during breakfast, silencing the clatter of plates and murmurs.
“In two days, a visiting Alpha will arrive from the Red River Pack. He comes not just to speak politics—but to observe our future Luna. To test her strength.”
Test. Like I was livestock being judged before the auction. My stomach twisted, especially when his eyes landed on me.
“You will train publicly, Luna Thornwyn. Show him the Blue Stone Pack does not breed weakness.”
I didn’t reply. I just nodded—and prepared myself for war.
The courtyard was already full when I arrived later that day. Warriors lined the edges of the training field, betting and sneering. Omegas stood behind the rope boundaries, whispering and laughing like it was a show.
And Matthew?
He stood near the center, arms crossed, expression cold and unreadable.
I swallowed hard and stepped onto the field. Calla smirked as she cracked her knuckles. I was her first opponent, of course. She was always ready to humiliate me.
“You ready, cow?” she said under her breath. “Let’s give them a good laugh.”
The match started. She lunged. And I hit the ground. Hard. The crowd cackled as I spat mud from my mouth. My ribs ached, but I got back up. Again. And again.
Calla was faster, crueler, but I was stubborn. And I was tired of lying down. After the third time she knocked me over, something snapped. She came at me with a swing—I ducked.
Then, using the move I had seen the warriors use over and over again, I swept her legs out from under her.
She fell flat, face-first into the dirt. The courtyard went silent.
She sputtered, lifting her face, and I stood tall, covered in mud, chest heaving, blood dripping from my lip, but I stood. Still breathing. Still fighting.
No one laughed. I turned my head to Matthew. He was watching me. His eyes weren’t cold anymore. They were something else. Something darker. Hotter. But he didn’t move. Didn’t speak.
He just clenched his fists—and looked away.
By the time training ended, my body ached in places I didn’t know could hurt. My legs shook. My arms throbbed. But inside… something simmered. Something dangerous and new.
Pride. They hadn’t expected me to last. But I had. And they had seen it. Not all of them would admit it, but they had seen me.
That night, I bathed until my bruises stung, dressed in one of Luna's long robes, and curled into the corner of the suite, watching the fire flicker.
But peace didn’t last. The knock came just after moonrise. Then—voices. Male. Tense. Sharp. I slipped out of my room and crept toward the hallway.
Down the corridor, I saw them.
Elias. Matthew.
Standing face-to-face. Breathing hard.
“I saw the way you looked at her today,” Elias said. His voice was low, but full of rage. “You don’t love her. You never did. So why claim her? Why brand her like that?”
Matthew didn’t answer.
Elias stepped forward. “You don’t get to chain someone just because you’re scared to lose.”
Matthew’s fists clenched.
“She’s stronger than you think. And you’re afraid of that. Aren’t you?”
“Shut up, Elias.”
“No. You don’t love her. So why? Why did you do it?”
Matthew’s face twisted—finally, finally cracking.
And then, without warning—
He punched Elias. Hard. Straight to the jaw. Elias staggered back, blood blooming on his lip. Matthew’s chest heaved as he stood over him, face flushed, eyes wild.
“Because I’d rather break her myself…” he roared, voice like thunder, “than watch someone else worship her!”