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Celeste helped me decorate the altar where Callum was supposed to mark me. Half an hour later, I learned she’d already had his mouth, his scent, his nights, his promises. I got the Wolf Moon fantasy. She got the Alpha in bed. So at their ceremony, I took the mic and asked: “Does my mate treat you gently there too?” 1 **Aveline’s POV** Eight years into our long-distance mate bond, Alpha Callum Blackthorne and I finally made a vow. This year, beneath the Wolf Moon, we would complete our Mate Ceremony. I flew overnight from Moonveil Pack to Stormhaven Pack, ready to build our marking altar with my own hands. Silver moonvine curled around the arch. The camera was ready. The full moon would rise tomorrow. I had planned to stand before him and say: Callum, I want to be your Luna. I want you to mark me. I want to give you every year I have left. Then my phone vibrated. Callum’s message appeared. [I’ve been with your best friend, Celeste Vayne, for eight years.] My whole body went cold. Another message followed. [Every time you fly here to see me, I spend the night with her first to calm her wolf.] My wolf, Lyra, let out a broken whimper inside me. Celeste stood only a few steps away, wrapping moonvine around the altar. Half an hour ago, she had smiled and wished me joy as Stormhaven Pack’s Luna. My best friend. My phone buzzed again. [Celeste said you want me to mark you under the Wolf Moon.] [I bought a ring. I was going to propose to her tomorrow, under the Blue Moon.] [If you can’t handle it, we can break things off.] [Or we can keep hooking up. Your choice.] I nearly doubled over. Celeste walked toward me, gentle and smiling. “Aveline, when your ceremony is done, I’ll stand beside you. I want to watch you become the happiest Luna.” I ripped my hand from hers. Her face flashed with shock. “Aveline?” Before I could answer, Callum’s voice sounded behind me. “Ave.” I turned. He stood there in a black suit, Celeste’s scent clinging thick to his skin. “I fell irreversibly in love with Celeste first.” He didn’t come to me. He stepped in front of her. Shielded her. “Take your anger out on me if you must,” he said. “But leave Celeste out of it. She has suffered enough.” I stared at him. Eight years. I had crossed half the country again and again for this mate bond. I had waited, believed, loved. He had gone to my best friend’s bed before every visit. And now he said she suffered? I grabbed the camera tripod and hurled it at him. It struck his forehead. The wound sealed fast, but the red trail stayed on his face. I destroyed the altar I had built for us. “How could you?” I screamed. “How could you do this to me?” Our friends rushed in. “Aveline, enough!” “He’s Stormhaven Pack’s Alpha!” “Everyone knew about Callum and Celeste. We hid it because you couldn’t handle the truth.” “They’ve loved each other in secret for eight years. Let them be happy.” My raised hand froze. Everyone knew. Only I was the fool. Thunder cracked overhead. Clouds swallowed the Full Moon. Rain poured down. The crowd ran for shelter. I stayed in the storm. Callum took off his jacket and held it over Celeste’s head. She curled into his arms and glanced back at me. No guilt. Only victory. Then pain tore through my lower body. Rain mixed with the warm stain spreading down my dress. I stared at it numbly. This was supposed to be my second surprise. Half a month ago, I had learned I was carrying Callum’s pup. 2 **Aveline’s POV** I woke inside Stormhaven Pack’s infirmary. Rain beat against the windows. The Blue Moon was hidden behind black clouds. My hand moved to my stomach. A dull ache answered me. Outside the door, Celeste sobbed. “Callum, go back to Aveline. She’s carrying your pup. The healer said this may be her only chance to carry one to full term.” My breath stopped. My only chance. Callum’s voice followed, tight with resentment. “Celeste, you stayed hidden with me for eight years because of her. You suffered without a title. Are you really willing to step back now?” “Her happiness matters,” he said. “But what about yours? Don’t push me back to a woman I don’t love.” The door slammed open. Callum stood there, cold and sharp. “Aveline, I will never mark you in this lifetime.” A bank card flew onto my hospital gown. “There’s fifty grand on it. The PIN is Celeste’s birthday. I saved it to take her on a trip after our ceremony.” He looked straight at me. “Give up all claim to the pup. Take 500k. Consider it a settlement for the years you wasted coming here.” My fingers shook around the card. While I planned our ceremony, he planned her proposal. “Get out,” I shouted. “You can’t buy my pup with her birthday.” Callum only scoffed. “Celeste and I love each other honestly. What’s wrong with that? You were the one clinging to a bond that ended long ago.” His words struck the deepest wound inside me. Eight years ago, after learning I had grown up orphaned, Callum bought me a moonstone necklace with almost all his Alpha allowance. “Ave,” he had whispered then, “I’ll cherish you. Protect you. Give you a real home.” That man was gone. This one only looked at me like I was an obstacle. “I’m giving you twenty-four hours,” he said. “Take the 500k and leave Stormhaven Pack, or I’ll have you removed.” He left. I sat alone, staring at the card in my palm. Celeste’s birthday. That was the passcode to the price of my heartbreak. I booked the earliest flight back to Moonveil Pack. Then another message arrived. [Celeste isn’t just my lover.] [She saved my life during the earthquake eight years ago.] [I can’t betray her.] [So I have to betray you.] I stared at those words until my vision blurred. Because the one who pulled Callum from the rubble eight years ago was me. 3 **Aveline’s POV** I was the one who saved Callum during the earthquake. I dug him out with my bare hands, shifting broken concrete and twisted steel until my palms split open and my fingers went numb. I dragged his unconscious body free, took him to South Harbor Medical Center, then collapsed. When I woke, I never told him. I didn’t want his love to come from debt. I told only Celeste. Back then, she was my closest friend. I never imagined she would steal the truth and use it to steal my mate. The next morning, I went straight to the airport. I had barely taken my boarding pass when Callum grabbed my wrist. “Aveline, Celeste got into a crash.” His eyes burned red. “Are you happy now?” I froze. “She was driving here to stop you. She said she would give me back. This is your fault.” He dragged me from the airport to the Stormhaven infirmary. The moment we entered, he shoved me toward a healer assistant. “You and Celeste both carry Golden Line compatibility. Draw from her. Save Celeste.” I stumbled back. “My body is already fragile. This could risk the pup.” I looked at him, shaking. “Callum. This is your pup too.” The healer hesitated. Callum didn’t. “It’s just an unborn pup. If it’s lost, it’s lost.” He said it like our child meant nothing. “If you want another one someday, I can make you godmother to mine and Celeste’s.” Lyra roared inside me. The healer assistant raised her hands. “Alpha, this violates pack medical code. We cannot draw from an unwilling she-wolf carrying a fragile pup.” Callum’s face hardened. “I’ll take responsibility. Celeste comes first.” My strength drained fast. My sight blurred. Callum stood beside me, voice softening just slightly. “Ave, you’re the only match. Celeste is your best friend. You wouldn’t watch her fade, would you?” Silent tears slid down my face. I had always given Celeste everything. At the Moonveil orphanage, I split my food with her. When a couple wanted to adopt me, I gave her the chance instead. I thought she was my family. Now I was being forced to sacrifice my pup for hers. Pain ripped through me. The healer assistant panicked. “Alpha Callum, we have to stop. She’ll lose the pup if we continue.” I reached for Callum’s suit, begging without words. He looked away. “Keep going,” he said. “Celeste’s life matters more.” Yesterday, I dreamed of becoming his Luna. Now I was losing everything. My mate. My best friend. And my only pup. 4 **Aveline’s POV** After hours of emergency treatment, the healer stepped out with a covered tray in her hands. She couldn’t meet my eyes. “I’m sorry, Miss Wren. Your pup is gone.” The world went silent. I cried until my eyes burned and my throat broke. Not long after, Callum entered, supporting Celeste. She looked pale and delicate, her voice trembling with fake gratitude. “Thank you for saving my life, Aveline.” She held my hand. “I can’t keep running from happiness. I’m going to marry Callum. Please forgive me. Come be my bridesmaid. Stand beside us and bless us, okay?” I stared at her soft face. Her happiness mattered. Mine could be destroyed. I didn’t scream. I only asked, “Celeste, do you remember what you promised me before you climbed into his bed?” Her face drained. “You swore you’d protect Callum for me,” I said. “You said if any she-wolf tried to steal him, you’d defend me first. What about yourself?” “Aveline, enough,” Callum said coldly. Then he stepped in front of her again. “I forced Celeste into everything. I pressured her first. She tried to push me away, but I wouldn’t let her go.” He took every stain onto himself, desperate to keep her pure. Eight years of my love became a joke. I looked at them both. “If you two truly love each other, I’ll attend your Mate Ceremony.” Celeste stared at me. Callum frowned. I smiled. “After all, you were once the two most important people in my life.” Three days later, Stormhaven Pack’s Alpha Hall was filled with silver moonvine and cheering guests. They called Callum and Celeste star-crossed lovers. They said she was the only woman worthy of the Luna crown. I stood in the crowd, listening to my own humiliation dressed up as romance. Celeste pulled me onto the stage and placed a microphone in my hand. “Aveline, you’re my best friend. Say a blessing for us.” She wanted my blessing to wash away her betrayal. I smiled. The hall went silent. I looked straight at her. “My best friend,” I said softly, “does my mate treat you gently in bed?” Chaos exploded. Celeste went pale. Callum shoved me hard. I hit the edge of the platform, palms scraping against stone. “Aveline Wren,” he snarled. “What is wrong with you?” I pushed myself up. Callum grabbed my gown and dragged me toward the entrance. “If I had known Celeste was the one who saved me,” he said, “I never would’ve gotten together with you.” Just before he threw me out, I laughed. “Callum.” He froze. I opened my palm. A thick scar ran from my wrist toward my knuckles, pale and permanent beneath the moonlight. “The woman who saved you wasn’t Celeste.” His pupils widened. I looked straight at him. “During that earthquake eight years ago, I was the one who dug you out with my bare hands.” 5 **Aveline’s POV** All color drained from Callum’s face. He stared at the scar across my palm as if seeing it for the first time. Wolves healed fast, but this mark had never faded. The steel had dragged dirt and rust deep into the wound. Even pack healers couldn’t erase it. “That can’t be right,” Callum whispered. He turned to Celeste. “You told me you pulled me out.” Panic flashed in her eyes, then vanished beneath tears. “Aveline,” she said, wounded and shaking, “I know you’re hurt because Callum left you. But you can’t lie like this.” She clung to Callum. “I was the one who saved him. I swear it. Don’t blame her, Callum. She’s only trying to split us apart because she’s in pain.” Callum’s doubt hardened back into anger. “Aveline. When did you become this cruel?” Alpha pressure rolled from him, forcing guests to lower their heads. “You spent eight years ignoring every sign I had chosen my true mate. Your obsession with this dead long-distance bond only proves you never understood real mate devotion.” The words tore through me. Once, he had been warm. He had promised to be my home. He had called me every day while we lived apart, sending photos from patrol, council meetings, training grounds. I had believed distance could not break love. Before flying here, I had even quit my job at Moonveil Pack, ready to stay in Stormhaven as his Luna. Now I understood. He had betrayed me for eight years, and all our friends had helped hide it. Around me, the whispers began. “She’s lying.” “No wonder Alpha Callum chose Celeste.” “A low-born orphan thought she could steal the Luna crown?” They looked at me like I was the villain in Callum and Celeste’s love story. I took a deep breath and stood straight. “I have proof,” I said. “I can show everyone right now that I was the one who saved him.” 6 Callum froze. Before he could speak, Celeste tugged his sleeve. “Callum, don’t listen to her. I was the one who saved you. I’d never lie about something this important.” The guests joined her. “Don’t let her ruin the ceremony.” “She’s bitter.” “Where are the guards?” Callum’s jaw tightened. “Shut the doors. Take her outside.” The Alpha Hall doors began to close. I shoved my hand into the narrowing gap and forced them back open, ignoring the pain in my fingers. Everyone stared at me like I was throwing a tantrum. But Celeste knew the truth. That was why panic kept flashing across her face. Eight years ago, after the earthquake, I had heard faint cries beneath collapsed concrete. I dropped to my knees and dug through stone and steel with my bare hands until I found a wounded teenage boy. That boy was Callum. Later, when he pursued me, I learned his name. I never told him I had saved him. I didn’t want gratitude. I only told Celeste. Now she clung to him, terrified the truth would come out. “Callum,” I said. I pulled a folded stack of papers from my bag and held them up. “This is my proof.” Every eye in the hall turned to me. Celeste went white. “These are my old medical records from South Harbor Medical Center. They show exactly what happened that day.” I read aloud. “Multiple wounds across both hands. Deep penetrating injury through the palm. Severe soft tissue damage.” I lifted my scarred hand. “This came from pulling you out of the rubble.” The hall fell silent. Callum stared at the documents, then at my palm. His face emptied of color. The truth was finally in front of him. Not as a memory. Not as a rumor. As proof he could no longer ignore. Celeste whispered, “Callum…” But this time, even her tears couldn’t save her.

On the night of his biggest award ceremony, I faced the worst betrayal of my life. My own mate, the Alpha I'd sacrificed my dreams for and served faithfully for five years, chose his new Omega assistant over me. He broke his sacred iron rule of "zero light pollution" just to let her light sparklers in the snow. Then, he publicly crowned her his "muse," leaving me to rot in the absolute dark. I nearly lost my soul waiting in the shadows outside his lens. So I severed our mate bond, packed my camera, and fled to the polar ice fields to reclaim my throne as a Chief Astrophotographer. He thinks he can chase me across the world to Iceland and beg for forgiveness? Poor Alpha... he has no idea the nightmare he's about to wake up to. Chapter 1 My mate, Alpha Callan Vale, was Silvercrest Pack's most gifted lunar astrophotographer. I had been his Luna for five years. But I had never once asked to go to his shooting sites. All because of the things he used to say. "The rule of lunar photography is zero light pollution. Even a single phone screen flash can ruin an entire long exposure night." So, for five years, I never dared to send even a simple text asking if he had arrived safely. I was afraid the screen light would ruin his masterpiece. I just waited at home. And every time he went into the snowy mountains or barren wilderness, I folded a star. Each note held thoughts I never dared say out loud, "Are you hurt?" "Waiting for you to come back." Five years. 1,096 stars. They filled three glass jars. But he never opened them. Last week, he was shortlisted for the International Lunar Sky Photography Awards. I was proud of him and opened the official site to view his entry. The photo was titled Light. In the center, his omega assistant wore a red expedition jacket, holding a sparkler, smiling brightly. The judges' commentary read: [The photographer willingly gave up a once-in-seventy-years rare comet to preserve full exposure for his muse.] So... his world wasn't without light. It was just that I wasn't allowed to shine. That night, I poured all 1,096 stars out of the jars. I lit them on fire and reduced them to ash. Listening to the flames swallow the paper, my inner wolf let out a painful whimper. At dawn, I placed the three empty glass jars neatly on top of his camera case. The universe always had room for countless stars to shine. I shouldn't have spent my life waiting for a glimmer outside someone else's lens. This time, I would capture my own galaxy. ... The next day, Callan's interview was scheduled for the afternoon. In the morning, he laid out the backdrop and neatly arranged his expensive lenses on the wall. "The Meridian Review is coming for a home interview. Clear out the clutter in the living room." Clutter—my books, and those three empty jars. I carried the books back into the bedroom. When I returned, he had already shoved the three jars into a corner with clear disgust. "What are these cheap jars for? They're hideous. Keep them out of the frame." "Just leave them there for now," I said softly. He didn't care enough to ask. At exactly three, the journalist arrived. Callan changed into the black shirt I had ironed for him last week and sat at his desk. I stayed in the kitchen, holding a cup of cold coffee. "Alpha Callan, Light stunned everyone. Can you talk about the story behind it?" Callan relaxed in his chair and spoke slowly. "That night's best viewing window was set for a once-in-seventy-years comet." "But the summit was freezing past midnight—sub-zero temperatures. My assistant, Nessa Snow, was shivering so badly that she lit a sparkler to stay warm." "The moment that flame sparked, I suddenly felt that those dead, cold rocks countless light-years away couldn't compare to the living warmth in front of me." The journalist asked in surprise, "But everyone in the industry knows you follow a strict rule of absolute zero light pollution." Callan smiled, a rare, soft smile that went all the way to his bones. An expression he had never once given me. "Rules are just rules. The moment that light lit up her face, I was willing to overturn every rule I had." Five years. I had waited through more than 1,000 nights in darkness. But for someone else's warmth, he personally lit the most blinding spark. The journalist flipped through the notes and turned to look at me. "Alpha Callan, what role does your Luna play in your career? Being the mate of a genius must require a lot of tolerance and sacrifice, right?" Callan followed her gaze toward me, his expression instantly flattening. "She doesn't understand lunar photography, and she doesn't understand the hardships of our field. But she's quiet and sensible, never causes trouble." My right hand slowly curled into a fist. The sense of betrayal made my inner wolf ache in agony. He forgot. He had completely forgotten. Five years ago, my starfield photo series had also won an international gold award. I had once been the most stunning, most gifted lunar astrophotographer of the Greyhaven Pack. Until I formed a mate bond with Callan. At first, we were aligned. But later he said Silvercrest didn't need two photographers. He needed a Luna to stabilize the Silvercrest Pack. To fulfill his pursuit of pure art, I locked my camera in a cabinet and shrank into the "ignorant" housekeeper he now described. Had he forgotten it all? After sending off the journalist, Callan stopped at the study door. "Upload the photos from my external hard drive to the shared cloud folder tonight. Nessa needs them for the upcoming art book." He closed the door behind him. I opened the laptop and plugged in the drive. Then my phone suddenly vibrated. Sender: Arctic Sky Journal. [Miss Voss, we reviewed your early photography portfolio again a few days ago. Your sharp perception of the universe is the exact soul we have been searching for.] [The position of chief lunar sky photographer remains open for you. Have you considered our offer?] I stared at the email, emotions flooding through me. It had been a very long time since anyone praised my talent. Someone on the other side of the world could still recognize the light in me. While the man sleeping beside me only saw me as a convenient servant. I opened the email. [Thank you for the offer. I look forward to working with you.] Callan, I was no longer waiting for your moon. This time, I'm going to capture my own galaxy. Chapter 2 The next morning, Callan threw an envelope onto the dining table. "The publisher needs twenty selected photos for a special feature in the art book. Pick them from the hard drive for me." "Me?" "Didn't you study photography a bit back then? You know a thing or two about composition and lighting. I have to coordinate with the award organizers over the next couple of days, so I don't have time." Great. Not just a housekeeper, now a free assistant too. I opened the hard drive. Inside the selection folder were over 300 photos. All Nessa. No auroras. No rare star maps. Only Nessa. Nessa wrapped in a sleeping bag at the entrance of a tent, watching the sunrise. Nessa crouching by a stream, washing her hands, her profile carved elegantly by the morning light. Every single image was carefully color-graded. I studied photography, so I knew. These 300-plus photos could only have been taken by someone deeply in love. I had been with Callan for five years, and he had never once pointed his lens at me. His excuse had always sounded righteous. "My lens is only for sacred, pure skies. I don't shoot the mundane." A lie. He simply didn't shoot me. As he headed out, Callan gave me another order. "Oh, and each photo in the book needs a short caption. Write them. Nessa isn't a good writer." He wanted me to personally pen romantic prose for twenty stunning, private photos of another she-wolf. "Okay," I said calmly. He left and closed the door. I opened the first photo. A frozen expanse of snow stretched out in every direction, and Nessa was standing there, alone in that bone-chilling cold. Callan slipped his heated gloves onto her hands, and she lit up like a child on Christmas morning. I stared at those hands and slowly looked down at my own right hand. My index and middle finger joints were swollen and deformed, marked with two patches of permanent dark purple frostbite scars. Four winters ago, in Lofoten. A blizzard so brutal it felt like the world had frozen over. To keep him from missing a rare meteor shower, I dug through knee-deep snow with my bare hands to retrieve a buried backup battery. The storm was too violent, and I slipped, instinctively lighting up my phone screen as I fell. That faint light lasted only one second. Just one second. Callan had rushed over from a dozen yards away, crushing me with his terrifying Alpha pressure, roaring at me. "Do you even understand what zero light pollution means? I waited four hours for this composition, and you ruined all of it!" I sat in the snow, my hands completely numb, suffering permanent nerve damage. I placed my hands back on the keyboard. Looking at Nessa's smiling face on the screen, I typed the first caption. [In the dead silence of the snowy wilderness, she is the only color more precious than the stars.] Typing those words, I felt no grievance, only a sense of the absurd. The man who once treated absolute darkness as his lifelong faith. Now, he wanted to use such blunt, cliché words to announce to the world that he had succumbed to the pollution of a cheap light. I would give him exactly what he wanted. I would make sure this humiliating caption was permanently printed in his photo book. These twenty lines of text were my annotation, as someone who truly understood photography, for his ridiculous faith. That night, after I sent all twenty captions to Callan, he replied with only one word: [Good.] I let out a mocking laugh, closed the document, and opened my email. [I'll arrive in Reykjavík in seven days for reporting.] Seven-day left. Chapter 3 There were three days left until the awards ceremony. In the afternoon, the doorbell rang. It was an international express delivery. The package wasn't sealed, so I saw the contents at a glance—an embossed certificate. Global Star Registry. It listed coordinates: [longitude 18°36′56″, latitude 38°47′01″.] Lyra constellation. Beneath the exact coordinates was a cursive name: [Nessa] Registration date—the same night he gave up the comet to shoot Light. At the bottom of the certificate was a small handwritten card from Callan. [Stars live for countless ages. This star is my permanent exposure, dedicated to you alone.] I stared at the card quietly. My inner wolf let out a self-mocking whimper. He had spent a fortune to buy a real star in the universe and named it after Nessa. It hung in the galaxy, beside Vega. I had folded 1,096 paper stars, and he had never opened a single one. Paper and the cosmos never carried the same weight. I closed the frame as it was and placed it calmly in the center of his desk. In the evening, Callan came back. When he saw the frame, his expression stiffened slightly. He quickly placed a photography book on top of it and forced a topic change. "The organizers want me to prepare a five-minute acceptance speech. Since you're just idling at home, write it for me." "What do you want to say?" "Write about a photographer's devotion to the absolute dark. Write about how I overcame every obstacle to banish light pollution." I picked up the pen and wrote smoothly. Because for the past five years, I had been the one staying in that absolute darkness with him, the one he pushed every trace of light away from. The next day, Callan posted his printed Iceland itinerary on the whiteboard. "After the ceremony, I'm flying to Iceland. It's the final window of the aurora season." "I've been planning this with Nessa for three months. There's an ideal observation spot there. Zero light pollution." What a coincidence. That was also my destination. "How long will you be there?" "Ten days." I looked at the red note on the last day of the itinerary: [Portrait shoot of Nessa under the aurora, continuation of the 'Light' series.] "Callan," I said without turning around, my voice completely flat, "you once said we would go to Iceland together to see the aurora." His hands stopped moving for a moment. His brows furrowed tightly. "Maren, why are you bringing up the past? Iceland drops below zero at night. Your hands ache the moment they freeze. Going there would just be pure misery for you." "And Nessa? She isn't afraid of the cold?" "She's a professional assistant! How is that the same? Can you please stop causing trouble for me right now?" "Got it." I suddenly didn't want to say another word. I turned away and stopped looking at him. I pulled out a small suitcase from under the bed. Inside were my passport, my visa, and a few heavy sweaters. This house was huge, but everything I could take fit into less than half a suitcase. Iceland... I was definitely going. Chapter 4 That night was the awards ceremony. I didn't go to the family section. I took a staff pass and stood in the shadows at the back of the hall. On the giant screen, Light played—Nessa smiling radiantly amidst the fireworks. Callan, in a perfectly tailored suit, walked to the microphone with the trophy. He pulled out the script I had written and read the first line. "Astrophotography is an ascetic pursuit of darkness. We spend our entire lives capturing absolute zero light pollution..." He stopped there. After a silence that stretched on for what felt like an eternity, Callan folded the cue card I had written in half and slipped it back into his pocket. "This script feels too formal. Right now, I want to speak from my real thoughts." He lifted his head and locked his gaze directly onto Nessa in the second row. "Those who know me know I have an uncompromising rule—zero light pollution." "To maintain this standard, I demanded that the people around me shouldn't even let their breathing disrupt the exposure." It felt like a public execution of me, his rightful Luna. "Many people asked me today why I gave up a comet that only appears once every seventy years." He paused, the tenderness overflowing from his eyes. "Because comets return. Even if it takes seventy years, they will pass through the sky again." "But some people are not comets. She is a meteor. You don't know when she will light up, or whether she will ever light up again." "So in that moment she appeared, I turned off every device, abandoned every plan, and aimed my camera, my entire night, my entire sky, at her." His voice dropped a fraction lower. "In that moment, I suddenly realized that the stars in the sky are dead things. They travel ages to reach Earth with absolutely no warmth. But real light is the warmth you can feel the moment you turn your head in the wilderness." He looked at Nessa, who was already in tears. "So I willingly broke my five-year rule. Because what people call light pollution is only because the light was in the wrong place." "Nessa, thank you for lighting up my universe." Thunderous applause shook the hall. The entire audience cheered for the Alpha's declaration of "true love." He used my five years of absolute darkness as a sacrifice to prove his rule. Then used Nessa's single sparkler to prove his love. How ironic. I didn't wait for their embrace. Amid the deafening cheers, I turned and left the hall. I took a taxi back to the apartment I had lived in for five years. I pushed my only suitcase to the door. Then I walked to the shelf and took down the three glass jars—clean, transparent, without a single speck of dust. I lined the three empty jars neatly next to his premium camera. No note. No hesitation. 1,096 silent nights—my love had been completely emptied out. I dragged my suitcase, closed the door, and left. My phone vibrated. Callan: [Nessa drank too much at the afterparty. I'll be back late. Go to sleep, don't wait for me.] I stared at the screen and let out a cold laugh. I pulled out the SIM card I had used for five years, snapped it in half, and threw it away. At the same time, I gave my inner wolf a command: sever every link to him. The taxi sped along the elevated highway. The neon lights flashed past, a blinding display of light pollution everywhere. He used to say that the city sky hid the stars, which was why he had to travel so far away. But he had no idea that the lunar sky photographer who had once hidden her own brilliance in the dark for him had completely erased her existence tonight. Callan, your world no longer has to worry about light pollution. And me? I'm going out to claim my own galaxy. But I had no idea I'd be met with a frantic Callan the moment I landed...

The night before our bonding ceremony, I heard my Alpha’s voice in another woman’s ear. Low. Soft. Almost intimate. He was singing Tessa Blythe a lullaby. The same Alpha who always told me, “Get out.” So I did. I packed my suitcase, left his house, and gave his Omega assistant everything she wanted. My dress. My ceremony. My Alpha. Ever since I was a child, the thing Alpha Silas Calder said to me most often was: “Get out.” We had been together for years. I always thought he was just cold, that he didn’t like talking to anyone. So I never took it seriously. Until the night before our bonding ceremony, when I heard the lullaby he had recorded for his assistant, Tessa Blythe. At the end of the recording, his deep Alpha voice carried a tenderness I had never heard from him. “Sleep, my moonbeam, close your eyes tonight…” I rushed into his study, ready to ask him what this meant. Before I could speak, his cold voice hit me again. “Get out.” This time, I didn’t argue. I turned and walked away. Silas didn’t know that after this “Get out,” I would never come back. I packed my suitcase and left the room. In the hallway, I ran into Silas coming out for water. He saw the suitcase in my hand, but his gaze only swept over me, indifferent. After drinking, he finally asked, “You were looking for me earlier. Something you needed?” My fingers trembled. So he knew I had something to say. And he still told me to leave. “Nothing,” I said. “I just wanted to tell you I made your favorite rosemary venison stew. It’s in the fridge. Don’t forget to—” His phone rang. Tessa’s laughter spilled from the speaker. “Alpha Silas, I got the lullaby. It’s really lovely. Thank you.” A smile crossed Silas’s face. One he didn’t even seem to notice. “As long as you’re happy. Rest early. You have work tomorrow.” I stood there, listening to him soothe another woman with patience he had never given me. That was when I finally understood. Silas Calder was not incapable of tenderness. He simply had none for me. Still, I said, “There’s stew in the kitchen. Remember to eat.” He didn’t answer. He only kept speaking to Tessa. “The bakery on Oak Street won’t open tomorrow. Don’t make a wasted trip.” Words he had never once said to me. Care he had never once offered me. My whole body went cold. “Silas,” I said. He ignored me. “Silas Calder.” He kept talking. “Let’s cancel tomorrow’s bonding ceremony,” I said. “You’re free now. You can be with whoever you want.” He finally looked at me. His eyes were full of irritation. “Liora. Be quiet. You’re too loud.” That sentence stung more than I expected. When we were children, I used to follow him everywhere, calling, “Silas. Alpha Silas.” He would always say, “Liora, you’re annoying. Get out.” But my mother, Marianne, told me that sincere love would eventually be answered. So I waited. When I came of age, Silas said, “Liora, I don’t want to waste time looking for a mate. If you like me, let’s be together.” No flowers. No confession. No warmth. I still said yes. I thought being chosen was enough. But even after we became a couple, every time I shared my day, he STOPS me. “Liora. Get out.” This time, I lowered my eyes. “Okay,” I whispered. “I won’t bother you anymore. I won’t like you anymore either.” Through the phone, Tessa’s cheerful voice rang out again. “Alpha Silas, listen! Someone’s setting off fireworks near my house!” Silas’s voice softened. “I heard. After you watch them, sleep early.” I wiped my tears and picked up my suitcase. When I reached the door, Silas’s voice came from behind me. “Liora. What did you just say?” I didn’t answer. I didn’t turn back. Because this time, I no longer wanted him to hear me. 2 **Liora’s POV** Silas Calder had always been called a genius Alpha heir. Top grades. Top of every training exercise. The pack elders were proud of him. I was different. Average at everything. When I was little, my mother often compared us. She said she wished I had half of Silas’s mind. I would protest, “Maybe I’m not as smart, but at least I hear people when they call me. Not like Silas.” Marianne would laugh. “Little Liora, maybe it’s not that he can’t hear you. Maybe he just doesn’t want to.” Back then, I refused to believe it. If Silas hated me, why did he protect me when other wolves bullied me? “Anyone who bothers Liora answers to me.” If he hated me, why did he defend me when people mocked my grades? “Liora isn’t stupid. She just hasn’t tried yet. I can tutor her.” But now I understood. My mother had been right. Silas could hear. My voice simply didn’t matter. I got into the car I had called. Not long after, Silas sent me a message. A rare thing. But he didn’t ask where I went. He didn’t ask when I would return. He only wrote: [I locked the door.] [Come back tomorrow.] The pain I had held back finally broke loose. The driver handed me a tissue. “Miss, don’t take it too hard. Go home. Sleep. Tomorrow still comes.” He was right. Tomorrow would come. And this time, I would not spend it waiting outside Silas Calder’s door. By the time I reached Silverpine Pack house, it was already ten at night. My parents, Garrett and Marianne, had gone to sleep. I carried my luggage to my room alone. The next morning, when they saw me, they were shocked. “Liora, when did you come back?” “Last night.” My voice was hoarse from crying. Marianne noticed immediately. “Did you and Silas fight? But he’s so cold. How could he even fight with you?” Silas never fought with me. He only went silent, because he knew I would always be the one to bow my head first. But not this time. I looked at my mother. “Mom, I’m not marrying Silas anymore. Return all the bonding gifts from the Blackthorne Pack.” Marianne froze. Garrett frowned. They kept asking why. So I told them. “I don’t want to marry an Alpha who doesn’t have me in his mind.” I was the daughter they had raised with love. The Hart Family had never let me suffer like this. Why should I choose an Alpha who didn’t love me and spend my life walking on eggshells? Marianne tried to persuade me at first. “If Silas didn’t like you, why would he agree to the bond?” Then I told her about the lullaby. Her face went cold instantly. “Call it off. It must be called off. The bonding ceremony is tomorrow, and he’s recording lullabies for his assistant? Who knows what he’ll do next?” Garrett’s face darkened too. He immediately contacted the Blackthorne Pack and returned every gift from the Calder Family. I called the ceremony planner. Before I could cancel, she spoke first. “Miss Hart, Alpha Silas handed all ceremony arrangements to his assistant. If you have ideas, please discuss them with Miss Blythe.” My fingers tightened. She added, “Also, your custom wedding dress arrived from overseas. Alpha Silas said you were unavailable, so he had Miss Blythe try it on first. I’ll send the video.” The video came seconds later. Tessa wore the wedding dress meant for me. And it fit her perfectly. A staff member adjusted the train and praised her. “Mrs. Calder, this dress looks made for you. Alpha Silas will surely love it.” Tessa smiled at the camera. “I do wish I really were Mrs. Calder. It’s just that someone won’t give me the chance.” Then Silas called her. She put him on speaker. “When I become a bride, I hope I can wear a dress this gorgeous.” Silas’s voice came through, carrying faint amusement. “That day will come.” I stared at the screen. Then I dropped the idea of canceling the ceremony. Since Silas liked his Omega assistant so much, I would give them my blessing. 3 **Liora’s POV** I had been home for two days. Silas hadn’t called once. Just when I thought he had forgotten me, he sent one message. [Are you done playing? Come back.] When I said we were done, he acted like he hadn’t heard. When I left with my luggage, he looked right through me. For a second, I wanted to ask what I meant to him. But I already knew the answer. He would only say, “Liora, stop being unreasonable.” If I argued, he would say, “Get out.” So I didn’t reply. Instead, I bought plane tickets for my parents and me to the France Pack, departing in three days. It was where I had planned to spend my honeymoon with Silas. I had spent a month arranging everything. Hotels. Restaurants. Museums. A route along the Seine. The best place to watch fireworks. I had written it all down and placed it on his desk, hoping he would care. He glanced once and threw it away. “Liora, stop bothering me. Get out. Or the honeymoon is canceled.” Back then, I told myself he was only busy. Now I understood. He simply didn’t want to go with me. Fine. Then I would go with people who actually loved me. My parents agreed without hesitation. That night, Tessa called. Her voice was sweet. “Miss Hart, where does Alpha Silas keep his personal clothes? I’ve looked everywhere.” My body went cold. Silas was obsessed with personal space. Even close Blackthorne Pack friends were not allowed into his bedroom. But Tessa was different. She could enter his room. She could receive his lullabies. She could stand inside the home that was supposed to become mine. “Ask him yourself,” I said. “He knows.” Tessa laughed softly. “Alpha Silas is recording today’s lullaby for me right now. I don’t want to disturb him.” Today’s lullaby. So it was not once. It was every day. She continued lightly, “Also, Alpha Silas put me in charge of tomorrow’s ceremony. If you have ideas, contact me. But preferably not at night. I don’t sleep well. And I wouldn’t want to disturb Alpha Silas either.” Her apology sounded like victory. I said, “Do whatever you want. I don’t care.” Then I hung up. The screen faded back to my wallpaper. It was Silas at eighteen, standing on the training grounds after winning the Alpha trial. That day, I handed him water, and for once, he didn’t refuse. He even said, “Thank you.” I had treasured that moment for years. Now, I deleted it. Every photo. Every chat. Every voice message. Every trace of Silas Calder. Then I changed all my wallpapers to photos of myself. From now on, I would never love Silas Calder again. I would only love myself. 4 **Liora’s POV** At midnight, Silas sent another message. [Be at Moonlit Hall on time tomorrow.] [Don’t be late.] He hated being stood up. Once, we planned to visit the Pack Museum. That morning, I was too sick to get out of bed and texted him to explain. He didn’t reply. After I recovered, I found he had deleted all my contact information. I spent a month coaxing him before he added me back. Back then, he said, “I don’t like people who stand me up. Liora, you’re no exception.” Thinking of the old me, the one who had clung to him with no pride, I laughed at myself. This time, I still didn’t reply. Not long after, a grand fireworks show went viral across Blackthorne Pack social platforms. Silver-blue fireworks lit up the sky. Then seven huge words appeared: [Happy Birthday, Tessa Blythe.] I opened the comments. [Is this some Alpha celebrating his little Luna’s birthday?] [No. I heard it’s tragic. Alpha Silas has a bonding ceremony tomorrow with the childhood friend who’s been chasing him forever.] [So he gives the ceremony to the girl he doesn’t love, and saves all the romance for the one he does.] [Someone show that childhood sweetheart.] [Give the dress back to Tessa and Alpha Silas. They’re the ones truly in love.] My eyes burned. They were right about one thing. Silas had given me an empty ceremony. He had given Tessa tenderness, romance, attention—everything I had begged for and never received. But they were wrong about another thing. This bond had not been forced by our families. Silas was the one who proposed we be together. Silas was the one who proposed the bonding ceremony. And now, I was the one walking away. The next day, Moonlit Hall was packed with guests from both the Blackthorne Pack and the Silverpine Pack. Since morning, Silas kept checking his phone. Every message he sent me sank without response. Unease touched his face. Just as he was about to call, someone clapped his shoulder. “Silas, nervous? Relax. Liora Hart has been chasing you since childhood. She can’t live without you. She’ll come.” Silas’s expression settled. Time passed. The ceremony began. Silas stood on the platform, cold as ever. No joy. No nerves. Then the officiant announced the entrance of the Luna. The great white doors opened. And Tessa Blythe appeared in a wedding dress. My wedding dress. She held moon roses and walked toward Silas step by step. The dress fit her as if it had been made for her. Silas’s expression changed. Calm. Confusion. Shock. He stared at her. For the first time, his voice broke. “Why is it you?” His gaze swept past her toward the doors. “Where is Liora?”

My fiancé couldn't NAME ten things he liked about me. He managed one: "Sensible." That was at our engagement party, right after he'd reeled off ten for my best friend Serena—pretty, fun, great body, charming. The silence that followed hollowed me out. Then came the phone game. 【Who do you text most?】 Miles's top contact wasn't me. It was Serena. And when she "accidentally" scrolled through their chat, I saw everything. Him complaining about my wedding stress. Him laughing at my white dress. Him saying talking to her was "so much easier" than talking to me. Later, I found the receipt for a designer handbag—ten times the price of the pearl earrings he'd brought me. Earrings for p!erced ears I don't have. Serena's Instagram story showed her holding that exact bag an hour later. And the bracelet she wore? The one he'd sent me a photo of, asking if I thought it was pretty. I'd been so excited, thinking it was for me. It never was. That night, I stood outside the study and heard him on video call with her. She was reading his wedding vows aloud, laughing. He said, "Just pretend I'm saying them to you." Then she kissed the camera. He didn't stop her. So I did what any "sensible" girl would—I canceled the wedding. Left my ring on the table. Packed my bags. And booked a flight to Snowcrest. When Miles called the next morning, panicked, I just smiled. "You wanted sensible? Here's sensible: I'm gone. Forever. Enjoy your easy conversations with Serena." Then I hung up, turned off my phone, and ordered champagne at 30,000 feet. Because seven years of being sensible was enough. Now I'm flying wherever I want—and I'll never land beside him again. At the party, my boyfriend lost a round of truth or dare. Someone dared him to list ten things he liked about my best friend. Miles Sterling didn't even hesitate. "Pretty. Fun. Great body. Charming." "Always smiling. Empathetic. Confident. Great taste." "Oh, and she has this way of making everyone feel good." When it was Serena Vance's turn, she smiled and flipped it back on him. "Okay, so what about Chloe?" Miles looked at me and drew a blank. After all that, he came up with one word. "Sensible." Someone jumped in, trying to bail him out. "And?" Miles furrowed his brow like he was really trying. He couldn't come up with a single thing more. The silence that followed hollowed me out. Miles and I had been together for seven years. Our wedding was in a week. And after trying that hard, the only good thing he could say about me was "sensible." Fine. This time, I wouldn't be. I was about to walk out when someone s1%&apped a hand on the table. "Don't go, Chloe. One more round." "This one's fun. Everyone put your phones on the table. Let's see who you text the most." Serena smiled and slid her phone to the center. "Sure. I've got nothing to hide." But when the names showed up on-screen, the whole room went quiet. The person Miles texted most wasn't me. It was Serena. Someone let out a nervous laugh. "Wow... you two really do talk a lot." *** Serena blinked, her voice breezy. "Well, Chloe's so independent. She handles everything on her own." "Miles gets stressed sometimes. He needs someone to vent to, right?" Then, pretending it was an accident, she tapped open their chat history. Miles' messages to her filled the screen. [Chloe's on me about the wedding schedule again.] [She's making way too big a deal out of this.] Serena had written back: [She's just wound too tight. Not like me. As long as you're happy, that's all that matters.] Miles had sent a smiley face back. [See, that's what I mean. Talking to you is so much easier than talking to her.] My fingers curled into tight fists. Serena scrolled up, revealing previous messages. Another text from Miles. [Chloe's wearing that white dress again today.] [Does she seriously think she looks good in white?] Serena had sent a crying-laughing emoji. [Stop, don't be mean.] [But honestly... it really doesn't suit her. Her face is too plain for it.] Miles had written back. [Yeah. It'd look way better on you.] The room went dead silent. I was standing right there, and I couldn't force a single word out. Something tight and sour spread through my ch3#&st until I could barely breathe. All those delicate little hopes I'd been carrying. The nervous flutter every time I tried on a wedding dress. To Miles, they were just punchlines, something to text Serena about and laugh over. Serena walked over and looped her arm through mine. "Don't be mad, Chloe." "If he were talking like this with some random girl, I'd be furious for you." "But we're best friends. You know there's nothing going on." She tilted her head and looked up at me, her voice turning innocent and sweet. "I'm just keeping an eye on him for you. Isn't that a good thing?" I looked down at her hand on my arm. She was wearing a delicate bracelet. A few days ago, while he was away on a work trip, Miles had sent me a photo of it and asked if I thought it was pretty. I'd stared at that photo for the longest time, my ch3#&st warm and full. [It's beautiful.] I thought it was going to be a surprise for me. I'd even planned it all out in my head, how I'd play dumb when he got back, how I'd tease him about whether he'd brought me anything. But he returned from his trip, and the surprise never materialized. Now it was on Serena's wrist. I pulled my arm out of her grasp. Serena's eyes welled with tears right on cue. "Chloe, do you really not trust me anymore?" Miles finally stepped in, his jaw tight. "Chloe." "It was just a game. Don't be so sensitive." The second those words left his mouth, I realized he wasn't even worth my tears. I took a step back, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'm tired. I think I'll head out." I was halfway down the hall when I remembered my coat was still draped over the back of the sofa. I doubled back for it, but the private room's door hadn't shut all the way. Inside, someone was talking to Miles in a low voice. "Miles, you're seriously not going after her?" "Did you see her face just now? All the color was gone." Miles was quiet for a second. When he spoke, his voice was completely indifferent. "Chloe's not going to be mad." "She's too sensible for that. She'll sleep it off and be fine tomorrow." My hand froze on the doorknob. A second later, he went on. "But you guys put Serena in a really awkward spot back there." "I should go comfort her." I stood there gripping the doorknob, the cold seeping into my fingertips. Sensible. The word was a dull blade. It didn't cu&t cleanly; it just kept working its way deeper. I didn't go back inside. Instead, I walked out of the venue, pulled out my phone, and sent a text to my wedding planner. [Cancel the wedding.] A minute later, my phone buzzed. The wedding planner. [Miss Bennett, are you sure you want to go through with canceling?] [You've been working on this for over six months.] [The flowers, the lighting, the invitations, the place cards. You picked out every single detail yourself.] [It would be such a shame to let all of that go.] I looked down at the mockup photos she'd sent earlier. I remembered what I'd wanted in the beginning: white camellias everywhere. But Miles had taken one look and said, "Serena thinks camellias are too plain." "A wedding should have more life than that." So the camellias became the red roses Serena liked. I'd wanted soft gold lighting. Miles had said, "Serena thinks warm orange looks better in pictures." I'd wanted the invitations with simple embossing. Miles had said, "Just go with what Serena says. She's got great taste." It didn't hit me until now. The wedding I'd spent six months carefully planning had been quietly reshaped into everything Serena wanted. And all I had left in it was my name. The planner texted again. [Are you really sure about this?] I stared at the venue photo, at a wedding I couldn't even recognize anymore. And I smiled. I typed back. [I'm sure.] [I'll cover all the costs.] Back at the apartment, I started packing. Miles and I had picked this place out together. He'd told me what it would be like: coming home from work to the entryway light on, a warm dinner waiting in the kitchen, camellias on the balcony because he knew I loved them. Just picturing it used to make me so happy. But now I saw it clearly. Serena was everywhere in this home. The fridge was stocked with her favorite peach sparkling water. Her cashmere shawl was still draped over the sofa. Even the bridesmaid dress hanging beside my wedding gown looked more striking than mine. I stood in the walk-in closet, staring at the two dresses side by side. Something bitter and aching rose in my ch3#&st. The wedding hadn't even happened yet. Every part of Miles that should have belonged to me had already been taken by Serena. I didn't cry. I just put my ID, my passport, and a few essentials into my suitcase. Halfway through, the front door clicked open. Miles was back. He was holding a jewelry bag, his voice soft and placating. "Babe, don't be mad." "I walked past the store, and these made me think of you. I remembered you love pearls." He opened the box. Inside was a pair of South Sea pearl earrings. I did love pearls. I'd stood outside that shop window once, wanting them, but I couldn't justify the price. Miles had squeezed my hand and smiled. "When we get married, I'll get you even better ones." And now, here they were. But they were earrings. I didn't have p!#3%rced ears. Serena did. Miles pulled me into his arms. "Can we just let tonight go?" I looked down at the earrings. Before I could answer, another receipt slipped out of the bag. The total printed at the bottom felt like a s1%&ap. A designer handbag. Ten times the price of the earrings. I recognized the brand. Half an hour ago, Serena had posted on her Instagram story. There she was, holding that exact bag, her smile wide and bright. The caption read, [Landed the new project, and a certain someone surprised me with a gift.] I stared at that receipt, and the tears came before I could stop them. Whatever patience Miles had left disappeared from his face. "Why are you crying again?" "Chloe, when you're like this, it's just really exhausting." The words landed, and I went still. There was a time when my tears made Miles panic. He'd fumble to wipe them away. He'd hold me and murmur the same things over and over. "Chloe, don't cry." "It kills me when you cry." Once, I woke up at two in the morning, crying from a nightmare. He drove across town to bring me a bowl of hot chicken noodle soup. He said, "My Chloe never had anyone to hold her when she was little." "From now on, every time you cry, I'll be right here." That version of Miles had meant every word. But now, my tears bought me exactly one sentence. "It's just exhausting." When your tears can't reach someone anymore, That's when you learn to stop. I wiped my face, my voice hollow. "I'm fine." Miles actually looked relieved. He stepped closer and leaned down to kiss me. I turned my face away before I could think about it. Miles's expression went cold. He raked a hand through his hair. "Whatever." "You need to cool off." He turned and walked into the study. Later that night, I was reaching for the light when the tablet on the nightstand lit up. Miles was still signed in to iMessage. I only meant to turn off the screen. But a message had popped up, and Serena's name cu&t right through me. Serena had written, [Did you smooth things over?] Miles replied, [No.] [She's getting harder to deal with.] Serena sent a smiley. [So did you at least give her a little action tonight?] A few seconds passed before Miles replied. [Don't even get me started. She pushed me away.] [Honestly? It's fine. It's been seven years. I stopped feeling anything for her a long time ago.] [Good thing she turned me down. I would've had to fake my way through it.] I stared at those messages. My eyes bv/rned, but there was nothing left to cry out. Even intimacy with me. To Miles, it had become something he had to fake. I turned off the screen. I put the pearl earrings back in the jewelry bag. Then I set them on the entryway table, along with my engagement ring. Like handing back a dream I'd finally woken up from. Just then, my phone lit up with a booking confirmation. My flight left early tomorrow morning, bound for Snowcrest. From now on, I'd fly wherever I wanted. And I would never land beside Miles again.

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