The Moon Festival had always been my favorite celebration—a time when the pack came together under the full moon's blessing. Tonight, though, as I adjusted the silver circlet on my head, I felt hollow. The image of Scott kneeling in the mud for Rebecca played on repeat in my mind.

"Are you ready, Luna?" Elena, one of our senior Deltas, asked as she approached.

I straightened my shoulders. "Yes. Let's review the security positions one more time."

The festival grounds glowed with hundreds of lanterns, pack members dancing and laughing. Scott stood at the center, commanding attention as always. Rebecca hovered nearby, her lavender dress flowing around her like smoke.

Then the alarms blared.

"Rogues! East perimeter breached!" Someone shouted.

Chaos erupted. Screams pierced the night as wolves shifted frantically. Parents grabbed their pups, elders scattered toward the safe houses.

"Delta unit, form up!" I called, my voice cutting through the panic. "Protect the civilians!"

My tactical training kicked in as I directed our warriors. "Elena, take your team north. Marcus, secure the west exit. The rest of you, defensive formation around the central grounds."

Scott was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Rebecca.

A massive rogue—at least seven feet tall in human form—smashed through our line. His eyes glowed with feral hunger as he charged toward the group of civilians where I had taken shelter with several pups and their mothers.

"Stay down!" I ordered, preparing to shift.

Then Scott appeared, his Alpha aura radiating power. Relief flooded through me—until I realized his gaze was fixed solely on Rebecca, who cowered behind me.

"Scott!" I cried. "The rogue—"

He didn't hesitate. With a flick of his wrist, he threw a protective barrier around Rebecca and tackled her attacker to the ground.

But I was exposed.

A second rogue emerged from the shadows, claws extended. I tried to dodge, but there was nowhere to go with civilians behind me.

Pain seared across my ribs as his claws tore through my flesh. I heard someone scream—maybe it was me—as I fell backward into the grass.

Blood pooled beneath me, warm and sticky against the cool earth. Through blurring vision, I watched Scott pin Rebecca's attacker, his movements precise and desperate.

"Rebecca!" he shouted. "Are you hurt?"

She shook her head, tears streaming down her face. "I'm okay. Just shaken."

Scott pulled her into his arms, checking her for injuries with trembling hands. "Thank the Moon Goddess."

Not once did he turn to look at me.

"Alpha," someone called. "Luna Vivian is down!"

But Scott's back remained turned as he cradled Rebecca's face in his hands. "You could have been killed," he whispered to her.

Darkness crept in from the edges of my vision. My wolf howled in agony—not from the physical wound, but from the realization that our mate had chosen another.

---

I woke to sterile white walls and the faint scent of healing herbs. The Healer's ward. How long had I been here?

"Easy now," Healer Morris said as she checked my bandages. "The wound was deep."

"Why isn't it healing faster?" I asked, my voice raspy.

She hesitated. "Your mate bond... it's weakened significantly. That affects your healing abilities."

I closed my eyes, remembering Scott's choice. "Of course it has."

The door opened, and Beta Connor entered, his expression troubled. "Luna. I'm glad you're awake."

"Where's Scott?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.

Connor shifted uncomfortably. "He's... handling some matters."

"Is he with her?"

"Luna, please understand. The Alpha was confused in the heat of battle. He thought—"

"That she needed protection more than I did?" My voice broke. "That his Luna could fend for herself?"

Connor looked away. "The bond—you can't feel him anymore, can you?"

I tested the connection that had always pulsed between us. For seven years, I'd felt Scott's emotions—his pride, his anger, even his lies disguised as love.

Now there was nothing but silence.

"My wolf has gone quiet," I whispered. "To protect us both."

---

My phone buzzed on the bedside table. With trembling fingers, I reached for it.

A text from Rebecca: "Hope you're feeling better soon!"

Attached was a photo that shattered whatever remnants of hope I'd been clinging to.

Scott sat slumped in a chair beside Rebecca's bed in the guest quarters. His head rested against her shoulder as he slept, one hand still wrapped around hers. She looked peaceful, unharmed—while I lay in the hospital with claw marks across my ribs.

"He hasn't left my side since the attack," her message continued. "So worried I might have internal injuries. Isn't he sweet?"

I stared at the screen until it went dark, then at my reflection in the black glass. The woman looking back at me was a stranger—pale, wounded, but somehow stronger.

Seven years I had given him. Seven years of devotion, sacrifice, and love.

And I had never been his priority at all.

I ripped the IV from my arm with a decisive yank. The hospital room walls seemed to close in around me as I swung my legs over the edge of the bed. My ribs screamed in protest, but I ignored the pain. Seven years of ignoring my instincts had been enough.

"Where do you think you're going?" Healer Morris rushed in, her eyes wide with alarm.

"Somewhere I'm valued," I replied, my voice steadier than I expected.

"You can't leave—your wounds aren't healed properly. The mate bond—"

"The mate bond is broken," I cut her off. "Or it will be soon."

I dressed quickly in the clothes Connor had brought me, wincing as fabric brushed against my bandages. No one tried to stop me as I walked out of the Healer's ward, through the pack house, and into the crisp morning air.

No one except my wolf, who whimpered inside me. *We're leaving him?*

*He left us first,* I reminded her.

Back in our bedroom—*my* bedroom now—I pulled out two suitcases. I didn't take much: some personal items, a few photos of my parents, and my Lycan Council uniforms. The crisp navy fabric with silver insignia represented everything I'd worked for, everything Scott had promised to support.

My fingers brushed against the Luna ring on my nightstand—the symbol of my position, my sacrifice, my imprisonment. I set it down carefully and placed a note beside it:

"You saved the one you love. Now I will save myself."

I didn't look back as I drove to the airfield. My tactical clearance got me through security with minimal questions. The pre-dawn flight to the Western Territory had been booked weeks ago for Scott and me. Now I would be the only passenger from Moonstone Pack.

"Destination confirmed," the attendant said, scanning my credentials. "Lycan Council Headquarters, Western Territory."

As the plane lifted off, I blocked the pack link with a single mental command. The silence in my mind was deafening but liberating.

---

The Western Territory airfield was bathed in golden sunlight when we landed. I'd expected to be met with suspicion—a Luna without her Alpha was unprecedented. Instead, a tall figure waited at the bottom of the stairs, his posture relaxed but his eyes alert.

"Strategist Ferguson," he said with a respectful nod. "Alpha Brodie Lawrence of the Golden Coast Pack. Welcome to the Western Territory."

I flinched at his approach, half-expecting an Alpha command or judgment. Instead, he maintained a professional distance, his gaze never dropping below my eyes.

"I wasn't expecting a personal escort," I managed.

"Your appointment is significant," he replied simply. "The Council takes its new strategists seriously."

He led me to a sleek black SUV, opening the door for me with a gesture that was neither subservient nor dominating. "Your quarters are secure and private. I've arranged for a healer to meet us there."

"You know I'm wounded?"

A slight smile touched his lips. "I know you're a warrior who wouldn't leave her post unless absolutely necessary."

The drive to the Council compound passed in comfortable silence. Alpha Brodie—Brodie, as he preferred—didn't press me for explanations or stories. He simply provided the space I needed to gather myself.

---

A week later, I stood at the entrance to the Council's strategy room, my heart hammering against my ribs. The room was filled with Alphas and Betas from across the Western Territory, all turning to stare as I entered.

"Strategist Ferguson," announced the moderator. "Our new Lead Tactical Advisor."

I took my place at the table, acutely aware of the whispers. *Runaway Luna. Rejected mate. Broken wolf.*

When my turn came to present, I stood with hands that trembled only slightly.

"The northern border vulnerabilities can be addressed with a three-pronged approach," I began, my voice gaining strength with each word. "First, we rotate patrol schedules to prevent pattern recognition. Second, we establish decoy positions here and here—"

The room fell silent as I outlined my strategy. No one interrupted. No one dismissed me.

When I finished, Alpha Brodie leaned forward. "This is precisely the kind of innovative thinking we need. Strategist Ferguson has identified weaknesses our enemies have already exploited."

Pride warmed my chest—pride in my work, not pride in pleasing an Alpha.

During the break, I found myself standing alone by the refreshment table, my fingers unconsciously reaching for my mate mark—a habit I needed to break.

"Tea," a voice said beside me. Alpha Brodie placed a steaming cup on the table. "One sugar, no milk. I noticed that's how you take it during meetings."

I stared at the cup, then at him. Such a small detail, yet Scott had never bothered to learn it in seven years.

"Thank you," I whispered, wrapping my fingers around the warm ceramic.

Brodie's eyes met mine briefly before he stepped back. "Your strategy will save lives, Strategist Ferguson. Remember that."

As he walked away, my wolf stirred within me—not with pain or longing, but with something I hadn't felt in years.

Curiosity.

The sound of shattering glass pierced the morning quiet of the Moonstone Pack House.

"Where is she?" Scott's voice roared through the halls, his Alpha aura radiating outward in waves of fury. "WHERE IS MY LUNA?"

I felt the disturbance even from thousands of miles away, a faint tremor across a bond I'd thought I'd severed. My wolf stirred uneasily within me.

"Strategist Ferguson?" A soft knock at my office door pulled me from my thoughts. "The Council meeting starts in ten minutes."

"Thank you," I replied, smoothing down my navy uniform. "I'll be right there."

---

Three days after my arrival in the Western Territory, Scott had discovered my absence. The thought sent a chill down my spine.

"He's destroying everything," Beta Connor's voice came through my secure line, his words rushed and hushed. "The pack house looks like a war zone."

I closed my eyes, picturing the destruction. "Why are you calling me, Connor?"

"Because he needs to stop." A pause. "We need to stop him."

My fingers tightened around the phone. "What's he doing?"

"Searching for you. His wolf... it's feral, Vivian. I've never seen an Alpha lose control like this." Connor's voice dropped lower. "He tried to mind-link you yesterday. When he met static, he nearly killed a Delta who suggested you might have blocked him."

I swallowed hard, remembering the hollow silence where Scott's presence had once been. "What does he want?"

"You," Connor said simply. "He's coming for you."

---

The warning came too late.

"He's here," Alpha Brodie announced, his expression grim as he strode into the Council chamber where I'd been presenting my border security strategy. "At the gates."

The room fell silent. Every Alpha and Beta present knew what this meant – an Eastern Territory Alpha on Western soil without permission was tantamount to an act of war.

"I'll handle this," I said, rising from my seat.

Brodie's hand caught my arm, his touch gentle but firm. "No. You've invoked Sanctuary Protocol. This is a Council matter now."

Through the security feed, I watched Scott pacing at the entrance gates, his movements erratic, his eyes wild. He looked nothing like the composed Alpha who had ruled Moonstone Pack for a decade.

"Let me through!" Scott's voice crackled through the intercom. "I'm here for my Luna!"

"Alpha Webb," Brodie's voice remained calm as he approached the gate with a squad of Enforcers flanking him. "You're trespassing on Western Territory soil."

"I've come for what's mine." Scott's gaze darted past Brodie, searching. "Where is she?"

"Strategist Ferguson is under Council protection," Brodie replied. "She's invoked Sanctuary Protocol."

Scott's laugh was bitter. "She's my mate!"

"Was," Brodie corrected. "Now she's a Council strategist who has requested sanctuary from her Alpha."

The shock on Scott's face was almost satisfying. In seven years, he had never been denied anything – especially not by another Alpha.

"This is ridiculous," Scott snarled. "Do you know who I am?"

"An Alpha with no jurisdiction here," Brodie said simply.

---

The lavender arrived at dawn.

I stared at the bouquet of purple flowers – Rebecca's favorite, not mine – with a note tucked between the stems.

"Come home. Stop this tantrum. –S"

My hands trembled as I carried the bouquet to the kitchen sink. With a flick of my lighter, the petals curled and blackened.

"Another one?" Elena asked from the doorway of my apartment, her expression concerned.

"Third this week," I replied, watching the ashes swirl down the drain.

"He's staying at the hotel downtown," she continued. "Watching the building. The Enforcers can remove him, but..."

"But what?"

"He's your mate," she said gently. "The bond—"

"The bond is broken," I insisted, though my wolf whimpered in protest.

Later that evening, as I reviewed security protocols with Brodie in his office, I finally admitted the truth.

"I'm afraid," I said quietly.

Brodie looked up from the maps spread across his desk. "Of Scott?"

"Of myself." I met his gaze. "Every time I see him, feel him nearby... my body remembers. The bond pulls."

"What do you need?" he asked, no judgment in his voice.

"Time," I whispered. "Just time."

---

The call came three days later.

"Please," Rebecca's voice cracked through the phone. "Just reject him officially."

I sat frozen in my office chair, the Council reports forgotten beside me. "Rebecca?"

"Vivian." She sounded different – desperate. "He left me again. He followed you west."

"And you want me to reject him so you can have him?" The irony was bitter on my tongue.

"Yes," she admitted. "No one else will ever want him once you reject him. He'll have no choice but to turn to me."

I closed my eyes, seeing clearly for the first time the pathetic nature of her existence – defined entirely by Scott's attention.

"Rebecca," I said gently, "do you hear yourself?"

"What?"

"You're begging me to throw away a man so you can catch him when he falls."

Silence stretched between us.

"Find your own worth," I finally said. "Somewhere that doesn't depend on being someone's second choice."

As I hung up, my wolf stirred within me – not with pain or longing, but with something that felt dangerously like freedom.