From Broken Luna to Queen

The fluorescent lights in the clinic buzzed overhead like angry wasps, casting harsh shadows across the sterile white walls. I sat on the examination table, my bare feet dangling like a child's, while Healer Marcus shuffled through papers with hands that wouldn't stop trembling.

"Well?" My voice came out smaller than I intended. After weeks of feeling like my wolf was slipping away, like some vital part of me was dissolving into nothing, I needed answers. Any answers.

Marcus cleared his throat, his eyes fixed on the clipboard instead of meeting mine. "I'm afraid the results are... conclusive, Luna Anya."

Luna. He still called me that, even though everyone knew Esme had taken my place in everything but name. The title felt like a mockery now.

"Your wolf's spirit has deteriorated significantly," he continued, his voice clinical and detached. "The readings show less than five percent remaining. This condition—Fading Spirit—it's terminal."

The words hit me like a physical blow. I gripped the edge of the table, my knuckles turning white. "How long?"

"Weeks. Maybe a month if you're fortunate." He finally looked up, and for a split second, something flickered in his eyes. Guilt? Pity? It was gone before I could identify it. "I'm sorry. There's nothing more we can do."

I nodded numbly, sliding off the table on unsteady legs. The world felt tilted, like I was walking through water. Dying. I was dying, and I would never know what it felt like to be truly loved. Never feel the warmth of a mate's genuine affection or hear my wolf purr with contentment.

The walk back to the servants' quarters felt endless. Other pack members stepped aside as I passed, some with pity in their eyes, others with barely concealed relief. The broken Luna, finally fading away. How convenient for everyone.

My room was tucked away in the basement of the pack house—a small, damp space that smelled of mildew and neglect. But it was mine, and more importantly, it was where Palmer waited.

"Mama!" My four-year-old son launched himself at me the moment I opened the door, his small arms wrapping around my waist with fierce determination. His dark hair was messy from his afternoon nap, and his bright green eyes—so much like mine—sparkled with innocent joy.

"Hey, baby." I sank to my knees, pulling him close and breathing in his sweet scent. He smelled like sunshine and cookies from the kitchen where he'd probably charmed the omega cooks into giving him treats. "Did you have a good day?"

"I drew you a picture!" He wiggled free and ran to the small table where his crayons were scattered. "Look, it's us! You and me and daddy, but daddy's really far away because he's always working."

My heart clenched as I studied the crayon drawing. Three stick figures stood in a line—Palmer and me close together, holding hands, while Tanner's figure was indeed drawn on the far side of the paper, separated by what looked like a mountain range.

Even a four-year-old could see the distance between us.

"It's beautiful, sweetheart." I sat on the edge of my narrow bed, pulling him onto my lap. His little body was warm and solid against mine, a reminder that not everything in my life was fading away. "Palmer, I need to tell you something."

He tilted his head up at me, those innocent eyes trusting completely. How could I explain to a child that his mother was dying? That soon he'd be alone with a father who barely acknowledged his existence and a pack that saw him as nothing more than an inconvenience?

"Mama might get very sick soon," I whispered, my voice breaking. "And if that happens, I need you to remember that I love you more than all the stars in the sky. More than anything in this whole world."

His little brow furrowed with confusion. "But if you get sick, daddy will make you better, right? He's the Alpha. Alphas fix everything."

I closed my eyes, pressing my face against his soft hair. "I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry I haven't been a stronger mama for you. I tried, but I wasn't enough. I was never enough."

"You're the best mama ever," Palmer said firmly, patting my cheek with his small hand. "Don't be sad. I'll take care of you when you're sick, okay?"

The pure love in his voice shattered what was left of my composure. Tears spilled down my cheeks as I held him tighter, memorizing every detail of this moment. The way his hair curled behind his ears. The gap between his front teeth when he smiled. The fierce loyalty that burned in his young heart.

I was dying, and soon this precious little boy would be all alone in a world that had never wanted either of us.

Footsteps thundered down the hallway outside, heavy and aggressive. My wolf, weak as she was, whimpered in recognition. I barely had time to set Palmer behind me before the door exploded inward, slamming against the wall with enough force to crack the plaster.

Tanner filled the doorway like a storm cloud, his Alpha aura rolling off him in suffocating waves. His dark eyes blazed with fury, and his usually perfect appearance was disheveled, as if he'd been running his hands through his hair in frustration.

"Where is she?" he snarled, stepping into the room. The temperature seemed to drop ten degrees.