The Luna He Erased Chapter 04

The Luna He Erased Chapter 04

Five hundred wolves turned to stare at me. I looked only at him.

“I, Sage Whitlock, daughter of healers, blood-purger of vampire venom, true Luna of Silvercrest – the Blood Moon poured

through the dome like judgment reject Kane Blackwood as my mate, my husband, and my Alpha.”

The bond snapped.

It sounded like the world breaking.

Kane dropped to his knees on the stage, a roar tearing out of him that wasn’t human at all. Celeste screamed. Cameras flashed like lightning.

And I felt it too – a white-hot blade through my chest, my wolf howling as five years of golden threads were ripped out of my soul one by one. My vision tunneled. My knees tried to buckle.

I did not let them.

I had operated for thirty hours straight. I had held a man’s heart in my hand while it stopped and started again. I knew how

to stand inside pain.

“Sage.” Kane’s voice was wrecked, his Alpha power flailing through the hall like a downed power line. “What did you- you

can’t-”

“I already did.” I pulled the gray dress’s sleeve back, baring my unmarked neck for every camera in the room. “Five years, and you never even marked me. You made it easy.”

“You’re my wife-”

“I was your healer. Your banker. Your ghostwriter. Your ghost.” I let my gaze sweep to Celeste, frozen in her crimson gown. “She visited you twice, Kane. Once with photographers. Once with a gift basket. Check the visitor logs. They’re public now.”

A murmur rolled through five packs like thunder.

“The venom in your blood was drawn out through mine. Three times. Ask Healer Doran who held the needle.” I stepped backward, toward the doors. “You told the world she saved you. So keep her. You deserve each other’s love. It photographs

beautifully.”

“SAGE.” He lurched off the stage, but the bond-severance had gutted him; three of his own Betas had to catch him before he hit the floor. “Sage, please-”

I turned my back on the Alpha of Silvercrest in front of the entire werewolf world.

And I walked out.

My mother’s driver was waiting, engine running. As we pulled away, the gala’s lights shrank in the mirror, and somewhere behind them a wolf was howling a raw, broken, endless sound that didn’t stop for miles.

I didn’t look back.

We crossed the territorial border at 2 a.m. The moment the boundary wards washed over the car, the last thread of the bond tore loose, and the pain finally won. The world went sideways. The last thing I heard was the driver shouting my

name.

I woke at dawn in a border clinic, an IV in my arm and a gray-muzzled old healer frowning down at me.

“You shouldn’t be alive,” she said bluntly. “No one survives rejecting an Alpha bond. The heart gives out. Always.”

“Then why am I breathing?”

She placed her weathered hand over my stomach, and her frown deepened into something like awe.

“Because something in there refused to let you die.”

She turned the ultrasound monitor toward me. Two heartbeats, strong and furious, hammering in perfect unison – and

around each tiny body, visible even on the grainy screen, a faint shimmer of light.

“Alpha-born twins,” the old healer whispered. “They shielded you. Eleven weeks from their first breath, and they already fought for their mother.” She looked at me, suddenly grave. “But understand this, child. Power like that can’t be hidden forever. The day they’re born, every wolf for a hundred miles will feel it.”

I stared at the two flickering hearts.

Including their father.