Luna's Fate

Verena's POV

The candles flickered across the dining room table I'd spent hours arranging. Three years. Three whole years since Elijah claimed me as his mate and made me Luna of Iron Claw Pack. Tonight was supposed to be our celebration.

I smoothed down my emerald green dress—his favorite color—and checked the time again. 8:47 PM. He was almost an hour late, but that wasn't unusual for an Alpha. Pack business always came first. I understood that, even if it stung sometimes.

The front door slammed shut with enough force to rattle the picture frames on the mantle. My heart jumped with excitement, but something felt off. Elijah's footsteps were heavier than usual, his scent tinged with an emotion I couldn't quite place.

"Elijah?" I called out, smoothing my hair one last time. "I was starting to worry—"

He appeared in the doorway, still in his work clothes, his jaw set in that hard line I'd learned to read over the years. But tonight felt different. Tonight, he wouldn't even look at me.

"We need to talk." His voice was cold, formal. The voice he used for pack meetings, not for his mate.

"Of course, but first—" I gestured to the table, the flowers, the carefully prepared meal. "I know you're tired, but I thought we could—"

"I want a divorce."

The words hit me like a physical blow. I actually stepped backward, my hand finding the edge of the dining table for support. "What?"

"And I'm rejecting the mate bond." His eyes finally met mine, and they were empty. Completely empty. "Nixie's back."

Nixie. His first mate. The one who disappeared three years ago, the one everyone assumed was dead. The one whose ghost had haunted our entire relationship, even when I pretended it didn't.

"Back from where?" My voice came out smaller than I intended.

"She was captured by the Shadow Den pack. Held prisoner for three years. She managed to escape last week."

My mind reeled. Three years of captivity while Elijah and I built our life together. Three years of torture while I slept in her bed, led her pack, wore her ring. The guilt should have crushed me, but something else rose up instead—a sharp, defensive anger.

"And you just... believe that?" I asked. "Without questioning anything? Without talking to me first?"

His jaw tightened. "There's nothing to question. She's my first mate, Verena. My true mate. What we have... it was just convenience."

Convenience. Three years of marriage, three years of love—at least on my side—reduced to convenience.

"That's not true." My voice cracked despite my efforts to stay strong. "What we have is real. The bond between us—"

"Will be broken." He pulled out his phone, and I heard Joshua's voice on the other end, though I couldn't make out the words. "Yeah, she's here. Bring the papers."

Joshua. His Beta, his best friend since childhood. The man who'd stood by Elijah's side through everything, who'd welcomed me into the pack with open arms. He was in on this too.

The dining room felt too small suddenly, the candles too bright, the air too thick. I wanted to run, but my feet seemed rooted to the floor.

"Joshua saw you," Elijah said after hanging up. "At the border last Tuesday. Threatening Nixie, telling her to stay away from the pack."

"What?" The accusation was so absurd I almost laughed. "I haven't been to the border in weeks. I was here, planning this dinner, working on the new Luna initiatives—"

"He has photos, Verena."

The room spun. Photos? Of me doing something I'd never done, saying things I'd never said? "That's impossible."

"He also heard you. Threatening to hurt her if she came back."

"Elijah, you know me." I reached for him, but he stepped back like my touch would burn him. "You know I would never—"

"Do I?" His voice turned cruel, colder than I'd ever heard it. "You've always been jealous of her. Always asking questions about our past, always comparing yourself to her."

Had I? Maybe I had asked about Nixie, but not out of jealousy. Out of love. Out of wanting to understand the man I'd married, the shadows that sometimes crossed his face when he thought I wasn't looking.

Joshua appeared in the doorway with a manila folder, his expression carefully neutral. But when our eyes met, I saw something that made my blood run cold. Satisfaction.

"Alpha," he said, nodding to Elijah. "The papers are ready."

"Show her the evidence," Elijah commanded.

Joshua handed me a photo, and my world tilted on its axis. It was me—or someone who looked exactly like me—standing at the pack border, my face twisted in rage, pointing an accusing finger at a cowering blonde woman. Nixie.

"This isn't real," I whispered, staring at the image. The woman in the photo was wearing clothes I'd never owned, standing in a place I'd never been. "This has been doctored. Manipulated somehow."

"Are you calling my Beta a liar?" Elijah's voice was dangerously low.

I looked up at Joshua, this man who'd been like a brother to me, who'd helped me learn the pack laws, who'd held my hair back when morning sickness from the flu had me retching in the packhouse garden. "Yes," I said quietly. "I am."

Something flickered across Joshua's face—surprise, maybe, or anger. But it was gone too quickly to read.

"There's more," he said, pulling out another photo. This one showed me—again, not me, but someone who looked like me—shoving Nixie hard enough to send her stumbling. "I can provide witness testimony. Time stamps. Whatever you need, Alpha."

Elijah took the photos from my numb fingers, studying them like they were scripture. "Why?" he asked, but he wasn't asking me. He was asking the photos, the evidence, the story they told. "Why would you do this to someone who's already suffered so much?"

"Because I didn't!" The words exploded out of me. "Elijah, please. You've known me for three years. Have I ever lied to you? Have I ever hurt anyone?"

But he wasn't listening. He was looking at Joshua, at the photos, at everything and everyone except me.

"Sign the papers," he said, his voice dead. "Tonight."

"And if I refuse?"

For the first time since he'd walked through the door, emotion flickered across his face. Pain, maybe. Or regret. But it was gone before I could be sure.

"Then I'll have you forcibly removed from the pack."

The candles on our anniversary table had burned down to stubs, wax pooling on the white tablecloth like tears. I thought about blowing them out, about ending this scene of domestic happiness that had become a nightmare. But I didn't have the strength.

Joshua pulled out the divorce papers, already signed with Elijah's bold signature. All they needed was mine.

I looked at my husband—soon to be ex-husband—one last time. "You really believe I could do this? That I could hurt an innocent person?"

He met my eyes finally, and what I saw there destroyed me. Not hatred, not anger. Certainty. Complete, unwavering certainty that I was guilty.

"I believe the evidence," he said. "And I believe my Beta."

The pen felt impossibly heavy in my hand as I signed my name on the divorce papers. Each letter felt like a small death, like watching our life together crumble word by word. When it was done, Joshua collected the papers with the efficiency of someone who'd done this before.

"The rejection ceremony will be tomorrow night," Elijah said, already turning away from me. "You'll need to be present for the bond to be fully severed."

Tomorrow night. Our fourth anniversary.

The irony would have been funny if it didn't hurt so much.