She was Brexon’s former mate. They had been bound for five cycles. She was meant to be his Luna, destined to lead the Silvermoon Howlers beside him. But she ran—vanished from the pack just before their bond fractured. Cycles later, I found Brexon, dragged him out of the agony of a broken mate-bond, and eventually became Luna of the Silvermoon Howlers.
I thought she came alone.
But she didn’t.
A boy clung to her hand. He looked Nyra’s age—pale, fragile, his energy flickering like a dying ember.
My heart sank.
Not now. Goddess, not now.
Romano stiffened. “This… complicates everything.”
“What is she doing here?” Brexon asked, gesturing at Lyssa. His voice was eerily calm.
Lyssa tightened her grip on the boy, hands shaking.
“Because… Orrin needs help. And Healer Harlan has been treating him.”
The air thickened, charged with tension and suppressed growls.
Harlan cleared his throat.
“Orrin shares the same lunar illness as Nyra. And Alpha… you’re the only viable match for him as well.”
The words hit like a blade to the gut.
“What?” Brexon’s voice dropped, low and lethal—his Alpha wolf clawing at the surface.
Harlan hesitated, then spoke the words that shattered the entire room.
“Orrin is your pup.”