Twenty-Five Years as His Mate, Until She Arrived

For twenty-five years, I was the quiet luna of the pack—waiting, serving, believing Theron would one day honor the bond we never truly celebrated under the Moonstone Rite.

On our anniversary, I asked for a simple thing.

“A voyage to the Moonlit Isles… just us.”

He laughed.

“At your age? Stop dreaming, Elyria. Be more like Marisella. She understands her place.”

Marisella. My cousin. The woman he once rejected—now chosen instead.

That night, I saw the truth: a Moon Rite invitation.

Bride and groom: Theron and Marisella.

Even my son and father knew.

They all left without me.