Beneath the Waning Moon

Boots on stone. Heavy, purposeful.

The oak door burst inward. Leon filled the frame, Alpha authority crushing down. Two enforcers flanked him.

"Seize her."

They grabbed my arms, grip iron-tight. I cried out through the bond that should carry my fear. His golden eyes looked through me, as if the mark on my throat meant nothing.

They dragged me down to the cellar, shoved me into the silver-laced room. The metal burned where it touched my skin. My knees struck stone.

"Correction," Leon said from the doorway, voice flat. "For the poison you gave Lysandra ."

He tossed something into the corner. Dried wolfsbane tied with black ribbon. The death flower.

My throat seized. Airway constricted. He knew. He had always known what would kill me.

"Leon," I gasped, crawling back from the plant. "You know I cannot breathe near—"

"You should have considered that before threatening my heir." His tone was glacial. "Perhaps this will teach you submission."

The door slammed. The bolt slid home.

I hammered the oak until knuckles split, screaming through the bond he did not answer. The wolfsbane thickened. My lungs burned, chest compressing until the bond itself seemed to fade.

---

An eternity later, the door scraped open. I spilled onto the floor, retching, vision spotted with stars.

Leon stood over me, face carved in hard lines I once believed I alone could touch. "If you ever threaten Lysandra again," he said softly, dangerously, "I will break your wolf beyond repair, fated mate or no."

He turned and walked away, boots echoing down the hall.

I lay shaking, the mark on my throat cold against my skin.

My pocket warmed. The crystal buzzed—my mother's frequency.

"Little wolf," her voice came, soft and worried. "Your father secured passage. Two dawns from now. Come home. Leave the bond that only brought you pain."

My lips trembled, cracked and bleeding. "I will come," I whispered. "I promise."

I sat staring at stone walls. Something inside me—the part that loved him, submitted, believed—broke completely. Hollow clarity remained.

I climbed to my chamber. Pulled the cedar chest from beneath the bed. Inside: our mating portrait, the rune-carved token from our first hunt, the grey pelt I had woven for our pup.

One by one, I fed them to the hearth. Flames consumed leather and fur. The smell of burning memory choked the air. I watched until only cinders remained, face dry.

I packed my belongings. When I turned, Leon leaned against the doorframe. He had made no sound, had not alerted me through the bond.

"Preparing to relocate," he said, voice carrying satisfaction. "Good. When Lysandra returns, she takes the Alpha's chamber. The eastern alcove is vacant. You may have it, if you wish to remain under my protection."

I said nothing, back straight.

He frowned, tilting his head with that arrogant look that once made my heart race. "I am pleased you accept reality. Perhaps you are not as broken as I believed."

"Is that all, Alpha?"

He crossed in two strides, close enough that I could smell him—pine, musk, and Lysandra 's perfume replacing my scent. "Lysandra is at the sanctum. The pup is distressed. She requires blood. You will accompany me."

I froze. "No. I will not give her my blood."

His jaw tightened. He gripped my arm—not cruelly, but with unyielding Alpha command. "You will obey. You owe her for the suffering you caused."

He pulled me along, grip burning, the bond screaming with each step. "You will atone."

---

At the sanctum, the shaman hesitated seeing me—hollow cheeks, the mark on my throat pulsing weak.

"Alpha," he said carefully, "your mate's life-force is depleted. Her wolf is nearly extinct. To take more vitae—"

Leon's glare cut him off. "Do I appear concerned? Lysandra 's heir is at risk. Perform the rite."

"If I drain her further, she might cross into shadow lands—"

"DO IT!"

The shaman's hands trembled as he pressed the silver-tipped needle into my vein. Cold metal bit deep. Crimson essence flowed into the crystal vessel.

My blood dripping was deafening in the silent sanctum.

Leon stood against the wall, arms crossed. "Be quick about it."

Minutes crawled. My vision swam. "That is the threshold," the shaman's voice came from far away. "She cannot give more without perishing—"

From behind the curtain, Lysandra 's voice cut through. "Leon! Please! The pain—it burns! Our pup!"

"Take more!" Leon barked.

The shaman froze. "Alpha, if I draw further, she will die—"

"I said TAKE MORE!"

The shaman paled but obeyed. The needle ground deeper. I gasped, chest constricting, skin turning clammy.

But the deepest pain was watching Leon turn his back on me completely, reaching through the curtain to hold Lysandra 's hand as I bled out for her sake.

"Leon..." I whispered, barely audible. "Please... no more..."

He did not turn. He stroked Lysandra 's hair, voice tender and low, the voice once reserved for me. "Hush, love. The heir will be strong. Do not weep. I am here."

Each drop felt like my wolf draining into dust.

My lips turned blue. Body convulsing. "Alpha, she is entering death-sleep—" the shaman tried again.

"She is feigning," Leon snapped coldly, gaze fixed on Lysandra . "She always performs for attention. Do not let her distract you from the heir."

Darkness crept at the edges.

The shaman suddenly shoved Leon aside with a snarl, ripping the tube from my arm. "ENOUGH!" he cried, blood spraying. "You are killing your fated mate!"

I collapsed back onto the altar, body shaking, consciousness fraying.

The last image: Leon cradling Lysandra close as she whimpered, "I'm sorry... this is all my fault..."

"Do not burden yourself," he said, gentle as silk with her, icy in dismissal of me. "She feels nothing truly. The bond has made her theatrical. She will recover to serve the pack."

I stared at the man who had sworn to guard my spirit beneath the moon, who had placed the mark now pulsing weak and cold.

I surrendered to darkness.

The bond would be dead.