My Alpha Named My Sister His Luna—Then His Three Rivals Called Me Mate

POV: Lena Parker

I should have ignored the text.

THE RINK. ONE LAST TIME.

Instead, six hours before my transfer became official, I stood inside the abandoned community rink at the edge of Blackridge territory.

Half the fluorescent lights had burned out years ago. The ice was scarred from local youth practices, the old bleachers empty beneath a layer of dust. Damon and I had hidden here through two winters, using the rink on nights when the council thought he was inspecting border patrols and my parents thought I was studying late.

I told myself I came for closure.

My wolf knew better.

She paced the moment cedar and woodsmoke entered the building.

Damon stepped through the side door wearing dark boots and a heavy black coat. He didn't bother with skates. He crossed the rubber mat and stepped onto the ice carefully, moving toward me as if every old memory gave him the right direction.

"You came," he said.

"To say goodbye."

"Your car already left for Ravencrest?"

"At dawn."

His mouth tightened.

For a moment, he looked around the rink instead of at me.

"You remember Tuesdays?"

"Don't."

"You used to sit in the third row while I practiced shots."

"Damon."

"You'd yell at me when my shoulder dropped."

"Those memories don't fix what happened."

He finally looked at me.

"I'm not asking you to forget."

"You're asking me to stay."

"Yes."

At least he said it honestly.

I turned toward the exit.

He moved before I reached the boards.

Damon didn't grab me. He planted both hands against the plexiglass on either side of my head, trapping me without contact.

The result was almost worse.

His body heat cut through the cold. Cedar and woodsmoke surrounded me. The mate bond snapped tight enough to make my breath catch.

"Tell me you don't feel it," he said.

I pressed my palms to his chest, not to pull him closer but to keep space between us.

His heart hammered under my hands.

"Move."

"Tell me the bond means nothing."

"I never said it meant nothing."

He lowered his head until his mouth was near my ear.

"Then stop pretending leaving is simple."

My wolf surged toward him.

Every instinct in me wanted the same terrible thing—to lean into the man who had hurt me because he was also the man my body recognized as home.

Damon's nose brushed my jaw.

"You are still mine," he whispered.

The words cleared my head.

I shoved against his chest.

He didn't move far, but he lifted his face.

I looked directly into his eyes.

"I still love you."

Relief broke across his features so fast it almost made me cruel enough to regret saying it.

He leaned toward me.

I locked my elbows.

"But you don't get to reject me with your mouth and claim me with your body."

He stopped.

"Lena—"

"You chose Vanessa where everyone could see. You don't get to use the bond in an empty building to pretend that choice didn't happen."

His hands came off the glass.

That small movement mattered.

He took half a step back.

I slipped around him and moved toward center ice.

The cold rushed into the space between us.

I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out a brass locker key.

Number forty-two.

The locker in the back hall still held a blanket, an extra Blackridge sweatshirt, and a cheap photo strip from the county fair we had attended under fake names. Damon once joked that it was the closest thing we had to a shared apartment.

I had emptied it an hour earlier.

I held the key up.

His face went pale.

"You cleared the locker."

"Yes."

"You kept that stuff for two years."

"I know."

I dropped the key.

It struck the ice and spun once before lying still between us.

Damon stared at it.

"I can end the arrangement," he said suddenly.

My heart stumbled.

He looked up. "Not tonight. The council would call it instability before I've even finished the transition. But I can fix this. Give me time."

There it was again.

Wait for me.

The same promise in a different coat.

"No."

His expression hardened with panic. "You don't understand what happens if I move too fast. The elders can challenge my authority. We could fracture the pack."

"Then lead your pack."

"And us?"

"There is no us to protect while I'm hidden."

He dragged a hand over his face. "What do you want from me?"

I thought about it.

For two years, I would have answered instantly: Claim me. Choose me. Fight for me.

Now I knew better.

"I want you to make your decisions without using my love as insurance."

For once, I did not need him to answer correctly. That was the strangest part. I had spent years measuring my future by his reactions. Standing on that empty ice, I realized his next move could be brave, selfish, political, or sincere, and none of it had to determine whether I boarded the car in the morning.

He looked stunned.

I walked toward the exit.

This time he didn't block me.

At the door, I glanced back through the scratched glass.

Damon had gone to the center of the rink. He stood over the little brass key without picking it up.

The bond still pulsed between us, painful and alive. It did not weaken because I walked away, and I stopped expecting distance to work like a cure. Distance was only space. What I built inside that space would have to be mine.

But for the first time, he wasn't the person deciding what that bond required from me.

I stepped outside into the dark and deleted his text thread before I could change my mind.

My phone immediately displayed the transport reminder for dawn. I set an alarm, sent Ravencrest my final arrival confirmation, and walked toward the parking lot without looking through the rink window again. The next time Damon saw me, I intended to be standing somewhere he had no authority over me.