The Luna He Erased Chapter 01

The Luna He Erased Chapter 01

I bled my own life into my Alpha mate to save him.

I carried his twin heirs in secret.

And tonight, on live television, he thanked his ex-lover for “never leaving his side.”

She visited him twice. I never left at all.

So I decided to do the one thing no Luna in a thousand years has survived.

I would reject him first.

The healer’s hall smelled like wolfsbane and burnt coffee. I was still in my bloodstained healer’s whites, my hands still trembling from eight hours of pulling silver shards out of a warrior’s spine, when the screen above the supply counter changed my life.

“Alpha Kane Blackwood, CEO of Blackwood Industries and Alpha of the Silvercrest Pack, makes his first public appearance since the vampire ambush that nearly killed him six months ago.”

I looked up.

There he was. My mate. My husband.

The man I had dragged back from death. When the vampire venom hit his bloodstream, every healer on the continent refused to touch him. Venom that old eats wolves from the inside. There is only one cure, and it is forbidden: a healer must draw the poison through her own veins.

I did it anyway. Three times. Each transfusion weakened my wolf until she could barely lift her head. I slept on a cot beside his bed for forty-one nights. I fed him moonwater through a straw when his throat was burned black.

On the screen, a woman stepped into the frame. Celeste Duvall. She-wolf supermodel. Daughter of the Crimson Fang Alpha. His ex. The one he swore meant nothing.

She looped her arm through his. He didn’t pull away.

The reporter leaned in. “Alpha Blackwood, the whole world watched you nearly die. Who pulled you through?”

Kane smiled. That devastating smile I once believed belonged to me.

“Celeste,” he said. “She never left my side. Not for a single day.”

The hall went to static around me.

Celeste had visited twice. Once with photographers. Once with a gift basket from her publicist.

My pager buzzed.

Healer Whitlock — your bloodwork is ready. Please report to the maternity ward.

I pressed my hand against my stomach. Twelve weeks. Twins. Alpha-born twins, their tiny auras already humming under my skin like a second heartbeat.

He didn’t know. He hadn’t touched me in four months. After the attack, he’d pushed me out of our bedroom entirely.

“You’re my healer, Sage. It’s weird. Take the guest room.”

I had swallowed that. I had swallowed everything.

My phone lit up. Kane.

Don’t wait up. Celeste is hosting a recovery celebration tonight. Pack PR. You understand.

Five years of being introduced at summits as “my wife — she’s in medicine.” Five years of saving wolves all day and disappearing into the wallpaper of his life all night.

I typed back: Of course. Have fun.

Then I opened a new contact. Elder Maeve. The most feared bond-severance advocate the Moon Council had ever licensed.

I typed one line: I’m ready.

On the screen, Celeste was touching his jaw — the jaw I had pieced back together from venom-rotted ruin. She was touching my miracle. And he was letting her sign her name to it.

Something shifted inside me. Not a crack. A door closing. Heavy, ancient, iron. And on the other side of it, every soft thing I had ever felt for Kane Blackwood turned to stone.

I stood, walked to the maternity ward, and listened to two heartbeats fill the room.

They would never know his name.

Because there is one law older than the mating bond itself. Everyone forgets it, because no one has ever dared use it.

A Luna can reject her Alpha.

And a rejection spoken under a Blood Moon can never, ever be undone.

The Blood Moon was in nine days.