Left the Group Chat, Became the Apex Luna Chapter 09

Left the Group Chat, Became the Apex Luna Chapter 09

Four years later, I graduated from Moonshore Defense University at the top of the Gamma Program.

On graduation day, the Combat Arena was packed.

When they called my name, the entire Gamma unit stood at once, howling ofre after another.

I walked up in my black graduation uniform and took the Silver Claw Medal from the Dean–the highest

honor for combat.

The same Laurel Calder who’d ranked last in her first assessment, who couldn’t even complete a shift drill without falling out of line-finished with three straight years of S-ratings and broke Moonshore’s Gamma field record.

Before graduation, I got an offer from the Northern Defense Command.

Even farther from Silverpine Pack.

Across several territories, stationed year-round in the far north. One of the hardest Gamma units to get into in the entire alliance.

I signed without hesitation.

Those years, my parents never really stopped looking for me.

Every birthday, Mom sent a cake.

I sent it back, unopened, every time.

Eventually she stopped sending things-just a text on my birthday:

[Happy birthday, Laurel.]

I never replied.

Dad came to Moonshore many times.

Once, he stood outside the training field for an entire afternoon.

I’d just finished an advanced sparring session, covered

in mud.

He looked at me, his eyes red.

“Laurel, I always thought you were the easiest one. The one who didn’t need as much. So I put them first.”

“I thought you wouldn’t leave.”

I told him only this: “I never promised I’d wait around forever.”

Later, Gareth Calder stepped down as Ganima Captain.

Whenever someone praised the Calder kids-all three of them so accomplished-he’d go quiet for a long

time.

Because everyone knew: his best daughter hadn’t set foot in Silverpine for years.

Nessa ended up at a decent Academy too.

But she never again expected everyone to revolve around her like she used to.

Once, she sent me a long message.

She said that living with strange she-wolves at her new school was the first time she really understood what

it felt like to be shut out.

She said:

[Laurel, I’m sorry.]

[I always thought you’d take what was mine.]

[But you never took anything.]

[We just never gave you what was already yours.]

I read it.

Then I deleted it.

No hate.

No forgiveness either.

Callum changed the most.

His private training room stayed untouched.

But I heard he barely went in after I left.

He never made it into the Beta leadership track he wanted.

Not because he lacked talent.

But because his instructor wrote this in his final evaluation:

“A Beta who cannot recognize the needs of his own unit is not ready to lead one.”

After that, he finally understood what it meant to be blind to someone right in front of you.

He apologized too.

Many times.

But some things can’t be fixed with a sorry.

In four years, I never went back to the Calder house.

After graduation, I dragged my suitcase out of the dorm.

My wolf was pacing with excitement in my head.

We both loved this feeling.

New territory.

New training ground.

New mission.

Before I got in the car, I got one last message from Mom.

[Laurel. Silverpine will always be your home.]

I stared at it for a long time.

I never replied.

The car pulled away.

Moonshore’s coastline slowly disappeared behind me.

Ahead lay the North.

I remembered that day when I was eighteen, sitting in the Calder living room, looking at the family channel

message

[A family leaves no one behind.]

That was when I finally understood.

Some homes you can’t force your way into.

And I also understood, later, that leaving them didn’t mean I lost my home.

It just meant I was giving the rest of my life back to myself.