Sins of the Luna

Nyssa POV

I was the perfect Luna.

At least, that’s what everyone said.

Faithful, clever, beautiful, sharp-witted, and strong enough to command respect in the training ring or in the council chamber.

I gave my whole self to the Moonfang Pack, even as my husband, Alpha Cassian Holt, grew more distant with every passing moon.

He had an excuse for everything. Another business trip. Another alliance meeting in a far-off territory.

Another border patrol that took three times longer than it should have. His absences had grown like weeds, creeping into every corner of our lives. He thought he was clever, but Vianna, my wolf, prowled restless inside me. She did not believe in coincidence.

Neither did I.

Still, without proof, I did what I always did. I held the pack together. I smiled when I wanted to scream. I fought when others faltered. And I reminded myself that the Moonfang Pack was more than Cassian’s pride. It was mine, too.

That day, I wore an apron instead of leathers. My sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, my hair tied back, and the scent of onions and garlic clung to my fingers.

The kitchen was warm, full of laughter, and buzzing with energy. I loved it down here. Not because I needed to chop vegetables or stir pots, though I often did, but because this was where the heart of the pack pulsed. The kitchens fed us all. And the women who worked here weren’t just staff; they were my family.

“Luna, you’ll cut your fingers if you keep laughing like that,” Greta chided.

Greta was the head lady of the kitchens and maid staff, sharp eyed and sharper tongued, with silver streaking her dark hair. She ruled her domain with iron precision, but when she smiled, the lines around her mouth softened into something almost maternal. She was one of the few people in this house I could always count on.

“I can handle a knife, Greta,” I teased, slicing a carrot into perfect coins. “I’ve held blades far deadlier than this.”

The cooks chuckled. Around me bustled five of them. They was broad shouldered Thomas with his booming laugh, shy Rina who blushed at everything, old Marcus with his stories about the war, chatterbox Delia who could talk a man’s ears off, and sturdy Bran who handled the butchering without complaint.

The maids were nearby, folding linens and polishing silverware, their youthful chatter spilling across the stone walls. Sweet Ana with her golden braids, dreamy Cora who hummed when she worked, practical Leila who never missed a detail, wide-eyed Mari who seemed lost half the time, and bold Tess who rolled her eyes at everything.

“Did you see Tess trying to teach Mari how to fold sheets?” Delia cackled, waving her spoon in the air. “The poor girl tangled herself in the linen like a fly in a web.”

“Better than when Cora nearly dropped the Alpha’s boots in the fire last week,” Bran added, grinning.

The entire kitchen burst into laughter, and even I couldn’t help but giggle. “At least they’re pretty,” I said, dabbing tears of laughter from my eyes. “That must count for something.”

“Pretty doesn’t keep the floors scrubbed,” Greta muttered, but there was fondness in her tone.

I leaned against the counter, soaking in the warmth, the love, the simple normalcy. Here, for just a little while, I wasn’t Cassian’s Luna. I wasn’t weighed down by suspicions and whispered rumors. I was just Nyssa, daughter of the Blackwell line, laughing with the people who made the keep feel like home.

The slam of the front doors shattered the moment.

The sound echoed through the stone halls, so loud and violent that the laughter died instantly. I froze, knife still in my hand, my heart pounding. Vianna bristled inside me, her ears perked and hackles raised.

"He’s home," she growled. "And he is angry."

I wiped my hands on my apron and straightened, forcing a smile. “I’ll see what’s wrong,” I told the others. Greta gave me a worried glance but nodded.

The corridor felt colder as I hurried toward the entrance hall, the warmth of the kitchen fading behind me. The heavy boots of three men thudded against the flagstones, growing louder with each step.

Cassian appeared first, broad-shouldered and imposing, his dark hair mussed as though from wind or fingers. His sharp jaw was set in a scowl, and his eyes were dark. Beside him walked Beta Rowan, tall and lean with a scar bisecting his cheek, and Gamma Torin, broader and younger, his blond hair tied back.

“Cassian,” I greeted, relief and unease tangling in my chest. “You’re home. I...”

Before I could finish, he shoved past me. His shoulder hit mine with deliberate force, sending me stumbling.

I gasped, steadying myself against the wall.

“Don’t,” he snapped, not even sparing me a glance. His voice was clipped and cold, and full of the arrogance that had replaced affection somewhere along the years. “Not now.”

I blinked, heat rushing to my face. I wasn’t sure if it was anger or hurt. Probably both.

Rowan’s eyes flicked to me as they passed, full of something that looked almost like pity. He didn’t speak, he never did when Cassian was in one of his moods, but the tightness in his jaw told me enough. Torin didn’t even look my way, his attention fixed on Cassian as if waiting for orders.

The three of them stormed toward the war room, the door slamming shut behind them with a finality that echoed in my bones.

I stood alone in the hall, my apron wrinkled, my hands still damp from the kitchen. Of course he was in a pissy mood.

Of course he didn’t want to see me.

I drew a long breath, pressing my palm to my stomach to quiet the roil of emotions. I was Luna. I had to be Luna. The pack depended on me, even if my husband no longer seemed to care.

But as I turned back toward the kitchen, my smile faltered. Vianna’s low growl vibrated through my chest.

"He hides something, Nyssa. And one day, we’ll find out what."

I swallowed hard, forcing a steady breath. “I know,” I whispered back. “I know.”

And though I carried myself like the perfect Luna, inside, the demons and shadows were beginning to stir.

The sound of the war room doors closing echoed through the hall like a coffin lid sealing.

Cassian had barely looked at me when he came in, just brushed past as if I were one of the servants instead of his Luna. I told myself I wouldn’t follow. I told myself I was above begging for scraps of his attention.

But curiosity is a cruel beast.

And Vianna was prowling. "Follow him," she urged, her voice low and sharp inside my head. "Let’s hear what the mighty Alpha finds more important than his Luna."

So I did.

The corridor was dim, lit only by sconces and the faint glow of moonlight seeping through high windows. I pressed close to the carved oak door and stilled my breathing.

“…the Ironfangs won’t risk another border push,” Rowan was saying, his voice clipped and professional. “Their numbers are down.”

“Good,” Cassian answered. “I’m done wasting time on their cowardly games.”

It was the voice that used to thrill me, low, commanding, and dripping confidence. Now it grated my last damn nerve. The man behind that tone had grown colder every month, until I wasn’t sure if there was anything left inside him at all.

Torin laughed. “Maybe they’re still tired from last night’s party, Alpha.”

A chair scraped, the sound casual and careless. “Those girls could exhaust anyone.”

I froze. Rowan snorted softly, and uncomfortabley. “Torin...”

“What?” Torin said, still laughing. “I’m just saying, those she wolves were something else. The blonde with the curves? The one who kept trying to sit on your lap?”

“Which one?” Cassian drawled.

My heart stopped.

They chuckled, men sharing filth in the room where our pack’s strategy was meant to be forged. I heard the clink of glass, and the lazy sprawl of chairs.

“She had an ass that could make a priest sin,” Torin said. “Didn’t you tell her to stay another night?”

“I would’ve,” Cassian said, his voice dipping into that low, amused tone I used to think was private, and mine alone. “But she wasn’t the only one. The brunette wanted a turn too.”

Rowan murmured something I couldn’t make out, probably a warning, but Cassian laughed. “Relax. Nyssa’s probably off baking pies with the staff.”

The laughter that followed was the kind that tore straight through the ribs.

My hand flew to my mouth before the sob could escape. Tears blurred the edges of the torchlight, turning it into smears of gold and red.

"Enough," Vianna growled. "Enough listening. We knew. We always knew."

I stumbled back, and every breath sliced my throat raw. The tears came fast, hot and humiliating. My heels clicked too loudly on the stone, and I bit down on my lip until I tasted blood, forcing myself to move silently through the corridor.

By the time I reached our room, I was shaking.

I slammed the door and leaned against it, my chest heaving. Vianna paced inside me, a storm of black fur and fury. "Let me out. I’ll rip his throat."

“You won’t,” I whispered. “He’s not worth it.”

"Then let me howl. Let them hear what they’ve done."

I pressed my palms to my temples. “No. We’ll give them nothing.”

Silence, heavy and furious. Vianna’s anger burned through me, but beneath it was a hollow ache. We both knew what this was.

Cassian Holt had never been my fated mate. True mates were legends now, relics of the old bloodlines. Most Alphas married for alliance, not love. My father had married me off to Cassian the moment I turned eighteen, an arrangement sealed in ink and dominance, not destiny.

For two years I’d carried this pack on my shoulders while my husband toured the territories, charming, negotiating, and seducing any wolf with a heartbeat. I’d told myself it was politics. That his charm was for the good of the pack.

I was such a fool.

"You deserved better," Vianna whispered.

“I did,” I said aloud. “But this is what I have.”

The tears slowed. My breathing steadied. Slowly, and methodically, I peeled off my apron, my blouse, and the soft trousers I’d worn in the kitchen. I wiped my face with the edge of a towel, staring into the mirror. My reflection was blotchy-eyed, my hair was tangled, and my lips trembled.

Not the Luna they expected to see. Not the Luna I wanted them to remember. I opened the wardrobe and let my fingers drift across the fabrics until they found crimson silk. The red dress clung to every curve, daring and defiant.

I slipped it on, and the cool fabric slid against my skin like a promise. I fastened diamonds around my throat and wrists, their fire catching the candlelight. I curled my long blonde hair until it spilled over my shoulders like gold, framing eyes that still gleamed green and bright, no matter how much I’d cried.

When I was done, the woman staring back at me wasn’t broken. She was dangerous.

"Why dress for him?" Vianna asked, suspicious.

“Because he thinks he’s untouchable,” I said softly.

“Because if he can throw me away so easily, then I’ll remind him exactly what he’s losing.”

"You can’t save him."

“I’m not saving him.” I touched the edge of my reflection’s mouth, forcing a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “I’m saving myself.”

The wolf fell silent, but I felt her watching.

I spritzed perfume along my neck, and the scent of jasmine and smoke filled the room. I stepped into red heels that clicked like gunfire on the marble floor. My pulse steadied.

Every movement became deliberate.