Luna of No Return

Lucas Thorne noticed I hadn’t submitted an expense request in three days.

He thought I’d finally learned my place, so he sent a text like he was bestowing a favor:

“I’ve reinstated your foster mother’s medical care.”

“Stay in line. Stop fabricating ’emergencies’ just to ask for funds.”

“I understand unmarked wolves struggle, but my treasury isn’t a relief fund.”

What he never realized—

by the time that message arrived, I’d already completed the formal petition to sever our mate bond.

When I walked out, the only belongings I could claim were the plain white tee and faded jeans I’d worn when I first entered this territory.

No one would ever guess: the Luna everyone assumed lived in opulence couldn’t even afford four proper dresses after three years as his bonded mate.

Every single coin I spent required pack authorization.

Every gown, every piece of jewelry was secured behind locks.

If I needed anything, I had to petition Lucas’s chief Pack Secretary—Serena Vance.

Because Lucas was ashamed of my origins.

In his view, those who rose from nothing always “lost all restraint,” “squandered resources,” “brought shame upon the pack.”

But three days ago, my foster mother’s condition collapsed.

I requested two hundred thousand for emergency surgery and blood-bond medicine.

Serena intentionally delayed the approval—until my foster mother passed away inside a healing pod.

Lucas never knew this:

The only reason I’d endured him all these years was because his pack’s medical privileges were the sole thing keeping her alive.

Now she was gone.

And I had no reason left to remain.

I asked Lucas to dissolve our mate bond.

He didn’t bother glancing up.

He sent a frigid reply:

“Stop the theatrics.”

Whenever he addressed me, his eyes remained fixed on the battle reports and financial terminal on his desk—as if those impersonal figures deserved more consideration than I ever did.

I kept my gaze down, but my voice held steady.

“This isn’t an act. I’m leaving. I’m terminating the bond.”

Lucas rose, slow and visibly annoyed, his expression turning to ice.

“Your foster mother’s treatment was suspended because I authorized it. Not Serena.”

“She was following my directives.”

“And if you hadn’t caused a scene outside the council chambers, I wouldn’t have needed to discipline you.”

“I already commanded the Healers’ Circle to resume care yesterday.”

Then he checked his wristwatch as if I were draining his precious time.

“My schedule is valuable. I won’t sit here indulging your tantrums.”

He strode out before I could reply.

Because he was certain I’d do what I always did—crawl back.

Bow my head. And then plead pathetically.

Like I had every single time before.

Even when he’d said it directly to my face:

“Don’t look at me like that. You look like you’re begging. It’s repulsive.”

And I would force a smile anyway. Remain silent. Continue being the compliant shadow.

But now?

Whether treatment resumed or not was irrelevant.

If three days ago Lucas had simply read my urgent messages, perhaps I would have shattered my pride once more and stayed.

But he never bothered to open them.

That night I was on my knees outside the healing ward, calling him repeatedly—begging for a response.

And all of it was erased by one delicate, calculated whisper from Serena:

“Is the Luna upset because I reminded her to follow protocol?”

“I didn’t mean anything by it… I just don’t want her bringing her… unfortunate habits into pack matters.”

“I tightened the approval process for her own benefit. She needs to learn.”

After that, Lucas grew even more dismissive.

He didn’t let me finish speaking.

He cut me off with one icy command:

“Handle it Serena’s way.”

It had always been this way.

“I’m occupied. Go through my Pack Secretary.”

“Listen to my Pack Secretary.”

“Whatever she instructs you to do—do it.”

I was his mate… and I possessed no respect within this pack.

Even when I had to attend pack functions as Luna, I couldn’t simply appear.

I had to file an application with Serena.

Every time, she’d smile as if offering assistance while rejecting it with casual cruelty:

“Luna, your justification isn’t sufficiently detailed. Rewrite it.”

“The event concludes at ten. Why did you request access until midnight? Non-compliant.”

“Luna, you do this every occasion. I told you not to submit unless it’s flawless.”

She always approved it at the absolute last moment—

then watched me scramble like a frantic servant, trying to borrow a necklace, a gown, any shred of basic dignity.

Sometimes I still arrived late.

And Lucas would stare at me in public, his voice sharp as a blade:

“Aurora. Can you manage your time at all?”

“Serena never makes errors.”

But I couldn’t manage it.

I never could.

Because his “flawless Pack Secretary” never permitted me to be punctual.

Just as he knew my foster mother couldn’t halt her medication, couldn’t wait—

and still he’d snapped at me as if it were my failing:

“How many times must I tell you? If you require funds, go to Serena.”

“She wouldn’t refuse you.”

Obtaining money from Serena had always been a war.

“What sort of ’emergency’ costs two hundred thousand all at once? Luna, are you using illness as a pretext again?”

“That’s a substantial sum. Provide itemized billing first. Rejected.”

I explained it was a prepayment. Detailed invoices only come after discharge.

Serena merely smiled, feigning innocence.

“Ohhh, I understand. My family is in good health, so I’m unfamiliar with such procedures.”

“But pack funds have strict compliance rules. We cannot breach protocol.”

“Perhaps you could ask the hospital for a ‘process certificate’? I’ll deny this one for now.”

Later, she added:

“Medical institutions can falsify documents, you realize. I’m not suggesting you would—merely stating it’s a possibility.”

“Maybe attach the Healers’ Circle regulations as well?”

And just like that, she protracted it.

Dragged it out for a very, very long time.

By the time the funds cleared, even the most skilled healers couldn’t save her.