"I am no bird; and no net ensnares me: I am a free human being with an
independent will."
—Charlotte Bronte, Jane Eyre
🌓
The door gave way beneath her trembling hand. Silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by the faint scent of blood lingering like smoke from a dying fire. The house lay in ruin. Furniture overturned, shattered glass scattered like frozen tears across the cold floor. Tapestries torn down, walls bare and stained.
Her breath caught as her eyes fell upon the horror. Fixed to the wall by a blackened iron stake was Theron's severed head. His eyes stared lifeless, mouth parted as if gasping for the breath stolen from him. Dark blood dripped slowly down the timber like ink spilling from a cursed scroll.
She stumbled backward, frozen, limbs refusing to obey the scream lodged deep within her throat. Her eyes burned with tears that spilled hot and bitter, unrelenting. Theron. Mad he was, but never cruel. Lost in the shadow of his grief for his wife and daughter, he had harmed no one. The same grief her mother bore now since her father's death. This was no justice. This was a warning.
Her gaze fell to the parchment pinned beneath the bloodied stake. With shaking hands she tore it free.
"If you wish to see your mother draw breath again, come to the Edge of the Cliff by the hour of Noxbellum."
-Ares Kaidos
The name alone is a curse. Ares Kaidos. Alpha of Nightshade, the strongest pack, the Alpha who had slain her father. The one whose name parents dared not whisper to their children. The war-bringer. The death-dealer. Now he held her mother. What did he seek from them? His past actions had already shattered her world. And now this. The thought of him using her mother in whatever dark game made her blood boil. She would not allow it. Though he was the most ruthless and dreadful Alpha she had ever known she despised him for what he had done and what he threatened to do. Her grief twisted to fury, her fists clenched and eyes burned with a fire that no tears could quench.
I will not let him harm her.
She burst from the shattered house with heart pounding, rage and fear warring within her. She stumbled along the overgrown path, unseeing, consumed by the storm in her veins.
Until she crashed into something solid. Strong arms caught her. She looked up, breathless, and saw Gregor Cormac. His eyes narrowed as he took in the blood staining her tunic and the wild look in her eyes. She tried to pull away, but he gripped her hand firmly.
"Do not." he said quietly.
Selene froze, anger rising like a tide.
"Do not what? He has my mo-"
"He did nothing wrong," Gregor interrupted.
"What?" she asked, confusion and disbelief
warring in her voice. "What do you mean he did nothing wrong?"
"He found his mate," Gregor said. "That is not his fault. The choice is made by the moon goddess, not by him. Do not turn the pack against him."
Selene stared at him, realization dawning slowly. He meant his son, Ronan.
"You knew?" Selene's voice trembled, disbelief and bitterness tangled in each word.
Gregor's eyes held hers, unwavering.
"I knew from the beginning. It was never meant to be a secret."
Her breath hitched as she fought to keep steady. "And all this time, you let me believe it was different. That Ronan....he was different."
Gregor's jaw tightened. "Belief is a tool, sometimes necessary to lead a path no one wants to walk."
Selene's eyes darkened with hurt and anger. "So I was nothing more than a means to an end."
"Not nothing," Gregor said quietly, "but a necessity. The pack's survival depends on sacrifices and order. Sentiment weakens that."
The words cut deeper than any blade. She had been blind to so much—blinded by grief, by pride, by the desperate hope that things might be different. But now, standing here, the truth pressed upon her with terrible clarity. They had all been playing her. From the moment her father died, a slow, cruel game had unfolded.
Ronan's closeness, his soft words, the way he lingered near her, they had not been kindness born of affection. They had been strategy. His gentle smiles, the care he feigned--it was all to make her choose him, to crown himself alpha by her side. The realization burned hot in her chest, a betrayal almost too bitter to bear.
Her mind raced, torn between the love she had hoped for and the cold truth of politics and power. She had been chosen to marry, to bring peace. But peace at what cost?
After a pause she asked, voice soft but steady, "What exactly do you want me to do?"
Gregor's eyes did not waver. "Step down as Luna and give your place to Maya, the rightful mate of Ronan. That is the peace the pack needs. Or refuse, and you risk losing more than just your title. The marriage bond still holds power, but defiance may cost you your mate as well."
Selene's eyes narrowed, voice low but fierce. "And if I refuse? What then? Will you threaten me with exile? Or worse?"
Gregor's smile was thin and sharp as a knife. "Refusal brings chaos. Chaos invites enemies. We do not protect those who defy the pack's will."
She swallowed hard, heart pounding. The bitter taste of betrayal filled her mouth. "I thought you were different. That you cared."
Gregor's voice dropped to a growl. "Care is a luxury in times like these. Remember, Selene, loyalty is not given. It is demanded, and
enforced. Look, this is for the betterment of the pack. I don't want to fight you, Selene. You're still my daughter," Gregor said quietly, his voice coated in strained restraint.
Selene's jaw tightened. "I want to fight you. I want to fight every last one of you," she said, her voice sharp with fury. "And I am not your daughter. I was never anything but a pawn. You used me to make your son Alpha. You and Ronan planned it together, but you... you were the mastermind."
Gregor's expression darkened.
"It all makes sense now," she continued. "You stood by my father all those years, wearing the face of loyalty, but were you truly his friend? Or were you waiting for your chance to climb higher through me?"
"Don't you dare drag your father's name into this," he snapped, voice rising with anger. "Do not tarnish his memory because you are hurting."
"No," Selene said, stepping closer, fire in her eyes. "I will speak of him, because right now, I believe he's rolling in his grave, watching the man he once trusted betray everything he stood for. Watching the man I once called a second father betray his daughter."
Gregor's mouth was set in a grim line.
"And now you expect me to step down? To make way for your son and his new mate?" Her laugh was bitter, hollow. "You'll have to kill me first. Because the only way Ronan stays Alpha with her by his side is over my dead body."
"Selene—"
"No," she cut in. "I made him Alpha the moment I married him. And I can strip him of that title with a single word. I can leave him, and with that, take the power he borrowed from me. Do you forget who I am? I carry my father's blood. I am the true Alpha. I didn't inherit it through ceremony or convenience. It runs in me."
Gregor's jaw worked, but he said nothing.
"So if you want to steal that power for your son," she said, voice low and sharp, "you'll need more than veiled threats and politics, Gregor Cormac. You'll need to come take it from me. And I warn you... I will not fall easily."
She wrenched her arm from his grip, her steps firm as she turned her back on him and walked into the rising wind, leaving the weight of his silence behind her.
So... team Gregor Cormac or team "Selene burns it all to the ground"? Asking for a friend.🌓