Luna’s Rebirth and Revenge

After I cremated my son's body, the Stormfang Pack elders and Damien's parents finally arrived in haste.

Marcus and Helena saw their grandson, who had been running around so lively just days ago, now contained in a small square box. Their grief was overwhelming.

I clutched the box tightly with bloodshot eyes and bowed deeply to Marcus and Helena.

"Former Alpha and former Luna, thank you for your care over all these years."

Seeing me perform such a formal ceremony, Marcus and Helena tried to stop me.

But I insisted on completing the entire ritual. Then I raised my head, my voice ice-cold and clear:

"This bow is for both little Ethan and myself. From today forward, I have no connection with the Stormfang Pack or the Blackwood family."

Marcus and Helena knew me well. They understood this decision was irreversible.

Marcus clutched his chest while Helena beat her breast in anguish.

"What sin have we committed? My dear grandson, the Stormfang Pack's only heir, killed by my own son's actions."

"Roxanne, we've failed you, failed little Ethan, and failed your parents."

When my parents died in the territory wars years ago, they entrusted me to their closest friends—Marcus, who was Stormfang Pack's Alpha at the time.

Marcus and Helena raised me as their own daughter. Damien and I grew up together. They knew Damien wasn't mature or steady enough, so they hoped I would stay by his side to help him manage the pack.

Out of gratitude for their kindness and our childhood bond, I agreed to become Damien's mate and serve as Stormfang Pack's Luna in managing pack affairs.

Through my six years of effort, Stormfang Pack finally transformed from an unknown small pack into one of the top 10 powerful packs in the northern territories.

As for Damien—his affair with Sera, his neglect of little Ethan—I endured everything, hoping to preserve our family, hoping time and responsibility would change him.

But it was all wishful thinking. All these years, my efforts meant nothing.

Marcus still wanted to convince me to stay, his voice filled with pain and authority: "Roxanne, you must stay! I'll personally drag Damien back! I'll give you and little Ethan justice! He must pay for his stupidity!"

I shook my head gently, holding little Ethan's urn as I turned to leave.

They didn't need to give me justice.

I wasn't the one who died—Ethan was.

But Ethan was already gone. No amount of justice could change that.

When I returned home, I had just placed little Ethan's urn on a temporary shelf covered with dark velvet cloth. Beside it, I arranged a few of Ethan's belongings: his favorite little jacket, a worn leather ball, and several drawings he'd made.

That's when Damien came home.

Before I could speak, he stormed toward me, radiating fury. With a violent sweep of his hand, he knocked the folded jacket and drawings to the floor. He kicked the ball, sending it rolling into the corner.

"What the hell do you think you are, running to complain to my parents and the elders?"

"I just assigned a few extra Gamma guards to protect Sera, and you made up lies about Ethan dying to gain sympathy?!"

I stared at him coldly, watching his familiar rage on Sera's behalf, watching him trample the few remaining things of little Ethan. My heart felt nothing but icy regret—regret that even with a second chance at life, I still trusted him and failed to protect my little Ethan.

Seeing my prolonged silence, Damien assumed I was admitting to my "false accusations." His fury intensified as he pointed at my nose.

"Remember your place!" he roared. "I am your Alpha! You need to understand your duties as Luna. You have no right to question me, and certainly no right to use such despicable tactics!"

He stepped closer, his eyes filled with disgust: "Even little Ethan... was nothing but a product of that mistake! You used that accident to secure your position as Luna! You need to understand that!"

He was referring to years ago, after a pack celebration when he lost control while drunk, forcibly marking and claiming me, resulting in my pregnancy with little Ethan. Afterward, he denied all responsibility, even implying that I had deliberately seduced him or exploited that incident to solidify my position in the pack. No matter how I explained his forceful behavior that night, he never showed love for little Ethan.

My entire first half of life was bound by identities and responsibilities—"the Blackwood family's adopted daughter," "Stormfang Pack's Luna," "Damien's mate"—while carrying the humiliation from that forced encounter and Damien's accusations.

Now, with this second chance, though I couldn't save little Ethan's life, I decided to leave this place and find freedom.

I no longer looked at Damien. I silently crouched down, carefully picking up the little jacket and drawings from the floor, dusting them off, and placing them back beside the shelf.

Seeing me completely ignore his rage and focus only on those "insignificant" items, Damien felt surprised and irritated. His violent aura subsided slightly, thinking perhaps his words had been too harsh.

So he rarely tried to ease the tension.

"Alright, I know you're worried about Ethan's safety. But Sera is also an important pack member. I just borrowed Ethan's Gamma guards for a few days. I'll reassign protection for you and Ethan afterward."

"Actually, you have feelings for Ethan too, right? You wouldn't want Ethan to die either." I suddenly turned to look at Damien. He didn't know that across two lifetimes, little Ethan had already died twice.

My tone was firm, leaving no room for Damien's hesitation.

But he thought I was being difficult.

"Are you out of your mind? Why do you keep insisting Ethan is dead? I told you I won't believe such tricks."

With that, he yanked off my Luna ring.

"Sera's injury won't heal. This ring has the finest healing gemstone embedded in it. I'm taking it for Sera to use."

I stared at him in shock.

Damien guiltily looked away.

"It's just temporary. Don't act so materialistic. Next week at the auction, when I... buy her something better, I'll return this to you." He even added, "Don't worry, she doesn't like used things. Don't be petty about it."

He acted as if it was perfectly reasonable, as if that wasn't our mating ring, didn't represent my Luna status.

Before I could respond, his gaze fell on the dark velvet cloth and the simple, cold urn sitting on it. Beside it lay the little jacket and drawings he had just scattered.

Damien's brow furrowed deeply, his face showing genuine confusion and barely perceptible unease for the first time.

"What is this?"