Broken Luna Returns for Revenge

I cradled Nyra against my chest, her small body trembling, her soft fur chilling beneath my fingers. Each shallow breath felt like it was slipping further from her, and I could feel her Moonlight fading. “Brexon… Alpha,” I whispered, my voice trembling, raw with desperation. “She needs your blood… our pup needs you!” Brexon’s jaw tightened, fangs glinting as his gaze flitted between our daughter and the young cub clinging to Lyssa. Orrin. His son. The hidden pup who had been kept from him for so long. I saw the storm within him—the Alpha’s instinct warring with his heart. A second later, he said, “Forgive me, Veleria.” They hit me like a hammer, knocked the air out of my lungs.  “No,” I whispered, wrapping my arms tighter around Nyra. “You're not serious.” He was silent. Turning to the Healer, Brexon’s eyes glimmered with frost. “Begin the bond. Save him.” A strangled cry tore from my throat. “Brexon—” He didn’t look at me. Not once. The healers moved quickly, their hands glowing with silver Moonlight as they prepared the transfusion. Pack guardians flanked the clearing, silent, eyes unreadable, watching the legendary Alpha of the Silvermoon Howlers make his choice: not his daughter, not our daughter. I pressed my forehead against Nyra’s, tears soaking into her frost-cold fur. “Don’t worry, little moonbeam,” I whispered. “I won’t leave you.” She didn’t stir. Her paws slipped from my hands, limp and fragile. Then—nothing. The world lurched, a dizzying drop. I must have screamed, because rough hands were suddenly on me, pulling her away. “Where are you taking her? No!” I thrashed, my voice raw and feral, clawing at the air. Brexon didn’t intervene. He stood firm, one hand resting over Orrin’s shoulder, while my entire world splintered apart. In that moment, something inside me shattered. I would never forgive him. Not in this life, not in the next. Not under any moon the Goddess hung above us. *** The burial was private.  Rain fell like a gentle curse, soaking through my mourning cloak, but I barely noticed. I lingered at the edge of the earth, watching the rune-inscribed coffin descend, the final resting place of our daughter. My tears had long dried; my heart felt hollow, a cave of nothing but fury and grief. Brexon remained a few paces away. Warriors forming a silent barrier around him, unyielding and unfeeling. Not once has he spoken to me since that night. Not like I care. He had made his choice. And now, our pup was gone. The pack priest murmured blessings, spoke of the Moon’s guidance, of reunion beyond life, but there was no solace, no plan. Only emptiness where Nyra had been. Then Brexon moved. A crystal communicator glowed at his ear; his face was cold iron. Moments later, he turned and walked away. He didn’t stay for the rites. He didn’t watch the last shovelful of earth cover his daughter. It was pretty obvious. Lyssa called him, and he went—like a fool. A bitter laugh escaped my throat, but I swallowed it. My fists clenched, nails digging into my palms. The Alpha of the Silvermoon had abandoned his daughter’s final rite because Lyssa summoned him. I should have screamed, demanded he stay, but I was too broken. I let him walk. As the last of the soil covered Nyra’s coffin, I swore to the Moon—I would never forgive him. Lyssa had taken everything from me. She left Brexon once, choosing another male over him. When that male fell in battle, she came back, crawling for all he had—his power, his territory, his daughter, my life. And Brexon—blind, foolish, heartless—had let her. *** I lingered until the Moon reached its zenith. The graveyard lay silent, the only sound the wind rustling through ghost-oaks. My legs ached, my body soaked and numb, yet I could not move. Memories swarmed me, drowning me in what I had lost. Brexon. He used to be a loving mate, even with the curse of leadership weighing on his shoulders. I remembered the night rogues kidnapped me. The rough ropes biting into my wrists. The snarls and laughter of wolves who thought they could use me to break an Alpha. Then—howls. Snapping bones. Screams. And Brexon. He tore through them alone, silver eyes blazing with feral rage. His wolf fought without hesitation—fangs tearing, claws slashing until the clearing was painted red. When the last body fell, he shifted, running to me. “Were you harmed?” he asked, voice hoarse, trembling as he cupped my face. I shook my head, tears slipping between us. He pulled me close, chest warm and solid. “I would raze every territory, burn every rival clan, for you, Arwen.” A broken sob escaped me. He had meant it once. Then, another memory rose: the healer’s lodge. Brexon, wrapped in bandages, wounded by silver arrow while shielding me. Yet, even then, he had smiled. “I cannot wait any longer,” he murmured, producing a small velvet box beneath his cloak. His fingers trembled, but the Moonstone ring within shimmered. “Brexon—” I gasped. “Be my mate,” he whispered. “You’re wounded. We’re in the healer’s hut.”  He broke into that sly, arrogant grin. “Are you going to deny a dying Alpha?” “Don’t be silly.” I laughed through the tears. “You are nothing close to dying.” “Then be my Luna,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “Because whatever storms come, you belong to me, Arwen.” Memories pounced upon me like hunting wolves. The night Nyra was born. Brexon paced outside the birthing den, growling at anyone approaching. And then, when he held her for the first time, the world shifted. “My little moonbean,” he whispered. “Perfect, isn’t she?” I had never seen him weep before, but that night, his eyes shone. “I will never let her hurt,” he vowed, kissing her soft forehead. Lies. All of it. My hands sank into the cold earth. Memories refused to leave me. The Moon Festival. Brexon had reserved the entire sacred glade. No other wolves. No elders. No guards. Just us. Nyra squealed. “All this… for me, Daddy?” He scooped her up, spinning her. “All for you, my moonbeam.” She pressed her tiny hands to his cheeks. “And for Mommy too?” His grin turned playful, almost smug. “Of course it is.” When the spelllit fireworks burst across the night sky, he slipped his arms around my waist from behind, pulling me into his warmth. “This is worth every battle I fought,” he whispered against my ear, voice rough with emotion, “A world just for you. For her. For us.” A sharp, bitter sound tore from my throat—half laugh, half broken breath. Lies. Once, he had fought for us. But when the moment truly mattered—when Nyra needed him most—he turned his back. He walked away. Leaving both her and me. And now I was left kneeling at our pup’s grave, while he was probably tangled in Lyssa’s embrace. The betrayal burned hotter than wildfire, but I could not cry. Because a piece of me had already died. And it would never return.

That was all it took for Alpha Brexon to forget. To pretend our pup never walked this earth. The Silvermoon Howlers’s Moon Hall blazed with silver lanternlight, the entire territory pulsing with celebration. Wolves from allied packs filled the ballroom, their auras swirling—dominant alphas, high-ranked betas, and nobles from the northern kingdoms. Laughter rang out, wine flowed, and above the stage hung a massive welcoming lunar banner for Lyssa and Orrin.  My claws extended before I even realized it. Nyra had only returned to the Moon Goddess fourteen days ago. Fourteen. And here he was, throwing a damned welcome feast as if nothing had been taken from us. As if my pup hadn’t just been laid beneath sacred moonstone. I pushed past the sentries guarding the entrance. Their growls rose in protest, but I ignored them. My boots struck the marble floor like thunder as I stormed through the crowd, my vision narrowing on the stage. On them. Brexon stood in the center—broad-shouldered, commanding, radiating Alpha dominance in a black ceremonial cloak embroidered with silver runes. At his side, Lyssa—his former mate—stood draped in a blood-red gown that shimmered under the moon crystals. Her arm curled around his like she owned him. She glowed. She smiled. As if she hadn’t stolen everything from me. As if my pup wasn’t still warm in my memory. Rage roared up my spine, primal and uncontrollable. I didn’t think. I shifted forward—fast. My claws dug into Lyssa’s cheek with a sharp crack that sliced through the ballroom. Gasps erupted as her head snapped to the side, her eyes widening before she quickly masked the expression. “Arwen.” Brexon’s voice cut through the air—a warning growl. Sharp. Cold. But I wasn’t done. “How dare you?” My voice shook, my wolf pacing beneath my skin. “You stand here celebrating while my daughter—our daughter—rests in sacred ground?” My throat burned, but I didn’t care. I turned on him fully, fury scorching through me. “You didn’t even give me a moon cycle to grieve, Brexon. Not even a moon cycle. And now you parade your little serpent around like she’s Luna of this pack?” Lyssa gasped, then whimpered softly. Tears spilled down her cheeks, making her look like the perfect wounded mate. “Moon save me!” she cried dramatically, covering the three claw marks on her cheek, fresh blood streaking down her skin. “She attacked me! She clawed me in front of the leaders of the other packs!” She trembled violently, shoulders shaking as her tears fell. “Brexon, please,” she sobbed, reaching for him like a helpless omega. “Make her stop.” Brexon’s jaw tightened, his alpha aura rippling with barely restrained aggression. And then—a small figure darted past the guards. Orrin. The pup launched himself at me, his tiny fists slamming into my stomach with surprising strength for a young wolf. “You monster!” he screamed, his face twisted with feral rage. “You hurt my mama! You’re a bad wolf! My papa doesn’t love you anymore!” He kicked me—hard. Pain shot through my ribs, but I barely had time to react before his fists came down again, wild and furious. Tears streamed down his flushed cheeks, his little body shaking with anger. “I hate you! I hate you!” he cried. “You should be cast out from the pack forever!” The guards at the edge of the Moonhall shifted uncertainly, unsure if they should intervene. No one dared touch the Alpha’s son. And Brexon… He just watched. Did nothing. I swallowed the pain, forcing myself to stay still. I wasn’t going to fight a pup—especially not his pup. But goddess, the betrayal burned like hellfire. I lifted my gaze—and that’s when I saw it. A smirk. Just a flicker.  Lyssa’s grief vanished from her face, replaced by a victorious gleam before she quickly wiped it away, clinging to Brexon’s arm like a fragile she-wolf in need of protection. “She wants to tear us apart, Brexon,” she whispered brokenly. “She can’t accept that you chose me a Luna.” Brexon exhaled sharply, his shoulders trembling as his aura shifted. The air thickened. Every wolf in the ballroom stiffened and then bowed instinctively as his Alpha dominance rolled out like a storm. Except me. But even I felt my pulse spike when his eyes bled into molten gold. He stepped toward me, a low growl vibrating from his chest, fangs peeking beneath his lip. I knew what was coming before he even moved. His hand didn’t rise. His claws did. In a flash, his fingers shifted—razor-sharp, gleaming—and he struck. Pain ripped across my neck as his claws scraped my skin. I staggered back, breath knocked out of me, heat blooming across the wounded skin. Gasps echoed through the hall. Every wolf froze, scenting blood—my blood. The ballroom fell silent. I slowly lifted my head, my pride in tatters. Brexon didn’t look regretful. Didn’t look conflicted. His expression was ice, his aura cold and unrecognizing.  Like I wasn’t the Luna who had stood beside him for cycles. Like I hadn’t carried his pup. “It’s over,” he said, his voice void of emotion. He pulled a rolled parchment from his cloak and tossed it at my feet. Severance papers. The breaking of a mating bond. My heart stopped. But then—another gust of wind as something else scattered around me. Images. Illusions. Moon-glamoured projections that hovered before dropping to the floor. Me. Naked. Twisted in beds with three different male wolves.  I inhaled sharply, my limbs going numb. “What… what is this?” Brexon’s eyes hardened with disgust. “You thought I wouldn’t discover your betrayal?” His voice was venom. “You’ve been warming the beds of rival alphas behind my back.” “No.” My voice cracked. “These are lies, Brexon.” Lyssa sobbed harder, clutching his arm. “Must we do this in front of everyone? She’s already shaming herself.” I snapped my gaze to her. That smirk again—subtle, smug, victorious. She did this. She forged the images. But Brexon didn’t see. Or refused to. “You believe I would betray you?” My voice broke. “After everything? After Nyra?” Something flickered in his eyes at her name. But the flame died. "Doesn't matter what I believe,” he said coldly. “Sign the scroll.” My breath hitched. He wasn’t going to listen. He had chosen his side. Chosen her. My heart fractured, but I refused to crumble. Not in front of her. Not in front of the pack. I lifted my chin. “You’ll regret this.” Brexon didn’t answer. He simply turned away, dismissing me with the same coldness he had shown when he turned his back on Nyra. As whispers filled the hall and wolves watched me with judgment in their eyes, a realization settled deep in my bones: Brexon Ashfend—the mate I once loved—was dead to me. And if he thought I would walk out of here quietly… He had no idea what kind of wolf he had just unleashed.

I was dead. At least, that’s what the pack would believe soon enough. The severance scroll was still clutched in my hand when I walked out of the Silvermoon Howlers territory for the last time, my neck still burning from Brexon’s claws, my heart nothing but an empty husk. No warrior tried to stop me. No wolf even looked my way. I was no longer Luna. No longer a mother. Just another rogue in the brutal world of Alphas and packs. I tightened my grip on the small satchel—Nyra’s belongings. Her moonstone bracelet, her tiny cloak, the last scent she left behind. Brexon could keep everything else. The rank, the territory, the home we built together. But he would never erase my daughter. I walked until my legs ached, replaying everything—the clawing strike, the accusations, the disgust in his glowing eyes. Lyssa’s triumphant smile as she held her bastard pup as if it were royalty. This wasn’t over. My hands trembled as I summoned a low-level mindlink request, directing it toward one wolf I trusted. The link opened. "Arwen?" “Levan,” I whispered, the weight of my ruin crashing over me. “I need you.” A pause. Then a slow exhale. "Where are you?" “Doesn’t matter. I need a cart, a body, and a fire.” My voice hardened. “I need the entire realm to think I’m dead.” Another pause. Then a dark chuckle. "So you finally stopped bleeding for him." My jaw tightened. “Just tell me you can help.” "I can." “Good. Make it convincing.” "Done. You disappear now." I cut the link and crushed the moonstone pendant used for communication, scattering its shards across the ground. Arwen of Silvermoon died tonight. The plan was simple. Levan—a gamma from an enemy’s pack, a wolf whose life I’d once dragged back from the brink—owed me more than a few blood debts. He secured everything I needed: a stolen travel wagon, forged runes of identity, and most importantly—a corpse. The body belonged to a rogue female about my height and build. A nameless wolf who’d met a violent end in some border skirmish. Maybe I should’ve felt something. But guilt is a luxury the hunted don’t get. We drove toward the far edge of Silvermoon territory, to a forgotten cliff road where patrols rarely passed. Levan positioned the corpse in the driver’s seat, coated the wagon in oil, and pulled out a flint spark. But before I disappeared from this world, there was one last thing I had to do. One last call. To say goodbye. To him. I pressed Alpha Brexon’s frequency rune. My heart thudded as the bond-stone pulsed. Once. Twice. Then— “The Alpha is busy,” a honey-slick voice purred. My gut tightened. “Lyssa.” Her laugh slithered straight down my spine. “Still clinging to hope?” she sighed. “Calling him one last time, praying he’d take you back? Pathetic.” My jaw clenched. “Put him on, Lyssa.” “Why?” she mocked sweetly. “So he can claw you again? Remind you of how great a disgrace to the Silvermoon Howlers you are?”  I swallowed hard, fingers digging into the rune stone. “Enjoy your victory while it lasts.” “Oh, Arwen,” she giggled, “I already have.” I stayed silent, breath sharp, pulse thundering. Then she said something that ripped the air out of my lungs. “Strange, isn’t it,” she mused, voice thick with amusement, “how your little pup died… when Orrin was never sick at all.” My world tilted. “What did you say?” I whispered. Her laughter was pure venom. “We made it all up,” she sang. “And your noble Alpha? He believed every word.” I couldn’t breathe. Nyra died… for nothing. Brexon gave her lifeblood to a boy who didn’t even need healing. They let my daughter die for a lie. The call ended, her laughter echoing like a curse. My hand went limp. The stone slipped from my fingers and hit the ground. My vision blurred, shaking with a fury that felt more wolf than human. I didn’t shift. I didn’t scream. I simply… burned. Lyssa. Brexon. Every wolf who watched and stayed silent. They would pay. Levan studied me carefully. “If we torch this, you vanish. There’s no returning to Silvermoon.” I stared at the spark flickering in his hand. “I left that pack the moment they let my pup die.” He tossed the spark into the cart. Flames exploded upward, devouring cloth, wood, and the body meant to become me. Heat clawed at my skin as I stepped back, watching the false Arwen turn to ash. The patrolling warriors would eventually find the wreckage. Their reports would go straight to the Gammas and Deltas, and soon enough, word would reach Brexon—he would hear of his former Luna’s fiery death while sitting in his office. He would remain unmoved, showing not even a flicker of emotion, exactly as I expected. But he was never the reason I did any of this. I did it for myself. For Nyra. To reclaim every piece of my life I had wasted loving an Alpha who was never worthy of my devotion. I left by dawn.  Levan led me through rogue borders, slipping me between patrols until no Silvermoon could sniff me out. A new identity. A new mask. But inside? I was still Arwen. Still the Luna who lost everything. Still the one who would make them pay. In a grimy inn deep within neutral lands, I stared at my reflection in a cracked mirror. I ran my hand through my newly dyed midnight hair. Brexon used to bury his fingers in my golden curls, whispering forever. That woman was dead. “It’s hell from here on,” I muttered. The world believed Arwen of the Silvermoon Howlers had perished in flames. But the creature rising in her place? She was only getting started.