A BONB SEVERED
The mate who walked away
The days that followed Asher's rejection were a blur of noise, whispers, and suffocating silence.
Luna barely remembered how she got back to the pack house. One moment, she was on her knees in the sacred circle, lungs gasping like she was drowning. The next, she was in her childhood bedroom, wrapped in a blanket she hadn't touched since she was ten. Her mother sat beside her, whispering soothing words that didn't reach her. Her father paced the hallway, his fury vibrating through the walls.
She didn't speak. Didn't eat. Didn't cry. She simply stared out the window as the world she knew crumbled.
Her wolf had gone silent.
That terrified her more than anything.
When a mate bond broke, especially one so fated and raw, the pain wasn't just emotional—it was physical. A tearing. A ripping. A void left behind. And for Luna, that bond had been her last tether to a future she was raised to accept.
She'd never questioned her path until it disappeared beneath her feet.
The pack was in uproar. Elders demanded answers. Gossip spread like wildfire.
"Why would he reject her?" "Was she unworthy?" "What did she do?"
Each whisper carved deeper into her already shattered heart.
Her parents tried to shield her, but nothing could protect her from the humiliation.
The worst part? Asher said nothing.
No explanation. No apology. Not even a glance in her direction.
Three days after the ceremony, Luna did something she'd never done before.
She disobeyed.
She packed a single bag, left a note on her pillow, and slipped out before dawn. Her wolf still refused to speak, but her instincts guided her steps. She didn't shift. She walked. Past the village. Past the river. Past the old pine tree where she used to read with him.
She didn't look back.
She just left.
Silvercrest was behind her.
The pain followed.
Luna wandered for days, ducking under tree canopies and sleeping in hidden caves. Her wolf remained quiet, like a locked door she didn't have the key to anymore. But Luna didn't cry. Couldn't. Her tears were frozen somewhere inside her, buried beneath anger, confusion, and something darker—shame.
Eventually, she crossed into human territory. She knew enough to hide her scent and cover her tracks. Her pack training made her a ghost. And in time, she stumbled upon a small town tucked in the hills, with brick buildings, corner diners, and a community college no one would ask too many questions at.
It was perfect.
She enrolled under a false name. Worked nights at a bookstore and mornings in the college library. Kept her head down. Smiled when required. Said her parents were "out of state." No one pried.
Humans were noisy but simple.
And for the first time in her life, Luna felt invisible.
She liked it.
But healing wasn't linear. Every time someone touched her shoulder too quickly, her heart raced. Every time a man stared too long, her skin prickled. When couples kissed in hallways, she'd turn away. And at night, in the privacy of her small apartment, she'd curl into herself and whisper to the moon:
"Why wasn't I enough?"
She never got an answer.
Months passed.
Seasons changed.
And slowly, without realizing it, Luna began to heal.
Not from the mate bond. That scar still ached like an old wound in winter.
But she started to laugh again.
A professor praised her essay. A co-worker brought her favorite tea. A street musician played her mother's lullaby.
Little things stitched her heart back together.
She still hadn't shifted. Her wolf remained silent.
But one night, as spring crept in, she stood barefoot on her apartment balcony, eyes on the moon, and whispered:
"I miss you."
And for the first time in almost a year, she felt a flicker of warmth in her chest.
A spark.
Her wolf, still distant, had heard her.
And that was enough.