Chapter 128

ELENA

The Moonstone packhouse was a flurry of motion and color. Fabric swatches fluttered like flags in a breeze as pack members carried bolts of cloth up the stairs. Someone was arguing loudly in the hall about whether “frosted lilac” was different from “lavender fog,” and a delivery of beeswax candles had been stacked haphazardly in the foyer, filling the space with the scent of honey and parafin.

It was chaos. Beautiful, joyful chaos.

And I was completely in my element.

“Okay, Erin, tell me again what your gut says.” I sat cross-legged on the floor of the study, surrounded by ribbons, hand-stitched place cards, and an aggressively floral binder titled The Ultimate Luna Wedding Planner.

Erin sat across from me, eyes wide, fingers buried in her hair. “My gut says throw everything in a fire and elope in the woods.”

I laughed. “Tempting. But I’m guessing my mother would have opinions.”

“Yes,” she admitted, “she’d literally show up in a stormcloud,” Erin muttered, flipping through a sample book. “Okay, these are the plates I liked at first, but now they look weirdly peach next to the napkins.”

“That's because those napkins have a warm undertone. Look at them under natural light.” I dragged a candle holder across the table. “Also, these centerpieces are too tall. We’ll need something lower if you want guests to see each other.”

Erin slumped dramatically. “Why are you so good at this?”

I shrugged and handed her a swatch of sage green. “Trial by fire.”

She tilted her head. “Is that how it was planning your wedding to Derek?”

I didn’t answer right away.

Because the truth was—yes. And no.

It had been efficient. Purposeful. A marriage arranged and fulfilled under the blessing of the Moon Goddess and the shadow of politics.

There were no heated debates about napkin folds. No laughter. No frantic late-night centerpiece redesigns. Just a handful of quiet conversations with Derek’s mother, a rushed dress fitting, and a ceremony that felt more like a state function than a celebration.

“Most of it was decided by the Council,” I said. “Derek was busy negotiating terms. I picked out the music by myself. Ordered my bouquet by name because I didn’t have time to meet with a florist.”

“That’s awful.”

“It wasn’t awful,” I said, softer now. “Just… sterile. Like everything had been washed twice before anyone touched it.”

Erin leaned forward. “You deserve better.”

I smiled at her. “So do you. And you’re going to get it.”

She reached for my hand, her smile grateful and glowing. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For helping me. For teaching me. I want to be a good Luna, Elena. I want to earn it.”

“You already are.”

We went back to work for a while. Her enthusiasm grew with every decision—candle scents, music options, the logistics of a moonlit ceremony near the glade.

She had good instincts, and once she trusted them, her confidence blossomed. It was like watching her step into her title with both feet. She had been raised to be a Luna and she was coming into her own.

At one point, she paused over a page of notes and chewed her lip. “Have you thought about who your Beta will be?”

The question caught me off guard.

“I haven’t,” I admitted. “Not really. There were so many other things happening after I came back—Aiden, the pack, the rogues…”

“I was just thinking about how nice it’ll be to have someone like that at my back. You know?”

I smiled. “Do you have any ideas who you might pick?”

“Not a clue,” she laughed. “But my Gamma? My personal Gamma is set.”

I looked at her and then it came to me. “Carly?” I asked.

“Oh yeah. Mason's already sent her off for formal training. She’s fierce. No one will mess with me with her nearby.”

“She’s going to absolutely hate wearing a bridesmaid dress.”

Erin burst out laughing. “She told me she’d wear it if she could carry a dagger in her garter.”

“Knowing Carly, she’ll carry two.”

We both collapsed into a fit of laughter. It felt good. Safe. Like the pack had taken a breath after being held under too long.

We were still giggling when the door creaked open and Logan stepped in.

The temperature in the room shifted.

Not dramatically, but enough. Like a subtle drop in pressure before a storm. Erin straightened, her laughter tapering. I smoothed the sample fabric in front of me and didn’t look up right away.

“Hey,” Logan said casually. “What’s so funny?”

Erin glanced at me. “Just… wedding stuff. Carly and daggers.”

Logan chuckled and nodded but said nothing else.

I finally looked up and met his eyes.

“Erin,” I said gently, “do you mind giving us a minute?”

Her eyebrows rose. “Sure. I have to check on the floral samples anyway.”

She gathered her things and left the room quickly, tension rippling in her wake.

Logan remained by the doorway, arms crossed loosely.

“You guys look like you’re having fun,” he said. “Staying busy.”

I shrugged.

“I haven’t seen you since the Moonbinding Festival,” I replied.

He shrugged back. “I’ve been handling patrols. Council meetings. Keeping things afloat back at my own pack.”

I walked over to the sideboard and poured myself a glass of water, trying to rein in the sharpness rising in my chest.

“What was the deal with the Silverclaw medallion?” I asked without turning around. “Did you really find it out there?”

No answer.

“And then you challenged Derek to a sparring match in front of everyone. You drew blood, Logan. That wasn’t ceremony. That was personal.”

Still, nothing.

I turned to face him. “You don’t have an explanation?”

Logan’s jaw flexed, but he didn’t speak.

I took a breath. Let it out slowly. “Okay.”

I crossed the room toward him, each step grounding me more deeply in my decision.

“Then I’ll give you one.”

His gaze flicked to mine.

“I want you to publicly announce that our engagement is over.”

The words didn’t shock him.

They just… landed. Quietly. Like he’d been expecting them and wasn’t sure whether to flinch or pretend it didn’t sting.

“You don’t have to make a show of it. You can do it quietly. Save some face.”

Logan didn’t move. He just stood there, hands loose at his sides, watching me with that carefully blank expression he wore when he wanted to seem unaffected.

“We both know,” I said calmly, “this was never real.”

He didn’t speak. Didn’t deny it. He knew.

“I let you announce it because it gave me space. It kept Derek at a distance. It made things easier—simpler—for a while. I needed that. You helped me at a time when I didn’t know who I could lean on, and I’ll always be grateful for that.”

I let the silence stretch a little, then added, softer, “But I was never going to marry you.”

Still no reaction. Just the tightening of his jaw.

“I never said I loved you. I never led you to believe I wanted more than what we had. And what we had wasn’t a romance. It wasn’t a partnership. It was safety. Familiarity. A way to avoid the mess I didn’t want to deal with.”

I folded my arms, feeling the edge of it all building behind my ribs. “But that mess? It’s here. And I’m not hiding anymore.”

He glanced away for a moment, then back again—but he still didn’t say a word.

“I never used you,” I said. “But I did let you believe we could keep pretending. And that’s on me. But it stops now.”

I took a step forward, voice steady but quiet. “Because I care about you, Logan. I always have. But not the way you wanted. And definitely not the way you deserve.”

Another silence.

“And the truth is…” I met his gaze directly. “You’re a friend. That’s all. And lately? You haven’t even been acting like one.”

That made something flicker in his eyes—just for a second. Something real.

But he didn’t try to stop me when I turned toward the door.

And I didn’t give him a chance.

I paused only once, with my hand on the frame.

“You don’t owe me anything. Not anymore. But I hope someday you remember what friendship is supposed to look like.”

Then I left.

And this time, I didn’t look back.