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Lyra's POV
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The Blood Moon hangs low, bloated and red like a wound in the sky.
Its light spills over the stone circle where I stand barefoot, each cold step across the sacred ground a fresh wound on skin already raw. The sharp scent of pine and burning herbs stings my nostrils, but it's not enough to cover the stink of judgment in the air.
They're all watching me.
The Crescent Fang Pack — my pack. My people. My home, once.
Now they stare like I'm a ghost.
Whispers ripple through the crowd, biting at my skin more than the wind ever could.
"She's trembling."
"Poor girl still thinks she's his mate…"
"Didn't you hear? He's choosing the Stormfang daughter."
My fists clench at my sides.
I force myself not to look at them.
I keep my eyes locked on him.
Lucian.
Alpha of Crescent Fang.
Leader of the strongest pack in the North.
My fated mate.
The man who kissed me under stars and said I was his moon.
The man who used to trace my wrist with a finger and say, "This thread between us? It's unbreakable."
He stands now at the other end of the circle.
Distant. Cold.
Untouchable in his ceremonial cloak, silver embroidery glinting like ice in the moonlight.
I wait for him to look at me.
He doesn't.
My heart — traitor that it is — still hammers in hope.
Maybe he's just pretending. Maybe this is all for show. Maybe he has a plan.
Maybe he loves me.
I inhale sharply and take a step forward as the elder's voice cuts through the air.
"Tonight, under the watchful gaze of the Blood Moon, the bond of the Fated shall be declared — honored or… severed."
The word severed echoes in my chest like a prophecy. My wolf whines inside me, confused. Scared.
Fated mates don't sever.
Fated mates don't reject.
They fight. They protect. They belong.
We belong.
---
Lucian finally lifts his eyes.
For a moment, my breath catches.
Because those eyes — gods, they're still beautiful. Still the same storm-gray that once softened when he looked at me in the quiet hours between dawn and duty.
But tonight, they are stone.
"Lyra of the Eastern Hollow," he says, voice clear and cutting, "stepforward."
I move without thinking. My feet obey, though every part of me screams for me to run.
When we're only a breath apart, I open my mouth to speak—to beg? To ask why? To remind him what we are?
But then I feel her presence.
Arienne.
Daughter of Alpha Theron of Stormfang.
Tall, blonde, cruel.
Standing just behind Lucian, dressed in crimson like blood, lips curled in a smile she doesn't bother to hide.
Her hand rests on Lucian's shoulder like it belongs there.
No.
No, this isn't real.
---
Lucian turns away from her — slowly — and looks back at me.
There's no flicker of hesitation.
No apology.
Not even guilt.
Just duty.
"I, Lucian of Crescent Fang," he says, his voice void of emotion, "reject Lyra of the Eastern Hollow as my mate."
My body goes still.
"I do not claim her."
"I do not accept her as Luna."
"I sever the bond."
There's a moment — a heartbeat — where the world doesn't move.
The wind dies.
The whispers fade.
Even the moon seems to freeze.
Then it snaps.
The bond.
That golden thread I've felt since the day I first met him — the invisible warmth, the soul-deep certainty... shattered.
And I scream.
It's not a sound anyone hears.
It's inside me.
A howling. A breaking.
My wolf thrashes violently in my chest, clawing, crying, "No. No. No."
But it's done.
Lucian turns his back to me — like I'm a burden he's finally shed — and walks to Arienne.
She steps into his arms.
They don't even wait for the circle to be dismissed.
He rejected me…
…and he doesn't even flinch.
---
I fall to my knees.
The pain isn't physical — not entirely.
It's everywhere.
In my marrow. My breath. My shadow.
My bond has been severed — but I still feel it.
Like a limb ripped away, but the phantom ache lingers.
Someone in the crowd laughs.
Someone gasps.
Someone says, "Well, she was never Luna material anyway."
But I don't hear them.
Not really.
All I can hear is the echo of his voice.
"I sever the bond."
---
I don't remember leaving the circle.
I don't remember the path I took through the woods.
I just remember running.
Until my legs collapsed.
Until the tears dried into my skin.
Until the pain dulled to a quiet, bone-deep throb.
---
I find myself at the edge of the river — the one we used to sit by in the summers.
It was here he had kissed me...
He swore nothing could change us.
He lied.
I collapse into the moss, too tired to cry again. The stars above blur. My fingers dig into the soil like I'm trying to anchor myself to something — anything.
And then I feel it.
Not pain. Not grief.
Warmth.
Low. In my stomach.
Faint. Barely there.
I still.
My hand drifts to my lower belly.
No!
It couldn't be.
Could it?
I close my eyes.
I count backwards.
I remember the last night we were together — his lips on my neck, his breath in my ear, his whisper: "I'll never let anyone take you from me."
Another beautiful lie he had told me.
But he left something behind.
I'm pregnant.
The realization hits me harder than the rejection.
He doesn't know.
He'll never know.
Unless I tell him.
Unless I let him near me again.
Unless I stay.
I stare up at the blood-red moon, and for the first time since the bond broke…
I smile.
But it's not the smile of a girl in love.
It's the smile of a mother.
Of a woman with something to protect.
Of someone who will rise — not for him,
but for the child he'll never claim.
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Author's note:
Thank you for reading 🖤
This story means a lot to me, and I hope it reaches your heart too.
Your support means everything.
He threw her away.
But you? You can show her she was never meant to beg.
💥 Drop a Power Stone if you felt even a flicker of her pain.
🗡️ Add to collection — because when she rises, she won't be alone.
Comment below. Choose your side.
The Alpha… or the Abandoned.
— Kai Alaric 🖤