The insistent pounding on my door started just after midnight. I knew who it was before I even reached the entryway—only Kane would dare disturb the Luna at this hour with such impatience.

I opened the door to find him exactly as I'd expected: jaw clenched, eyes blazing with barely contained anger. Without waiting for an invitation, he brushed past me into my living room.

"Have you completely lost your mind?" he demanded, turning to face me.

I shut the door quietly, too exhausted for dramatic confrontations. "Hello to you too, Kane."

"Don't," he warned, pacing the length of my living room. "Don't do that thing where you act all calm and collected while letting people walk all over you."

"It's late," I said wearily. "If you've come to lecture me about my choices, I'm really not in the mood."

Kane stopped pacing, his expression incredulous. "Your choices? Is that what we're calling complete surrender now?"

I crossed my arms defensively. "What would you have me do? Publicly challenge the Alpha? Create a pack division right before a major diplomatic event?"

"I'd have you show some self-respect!" Kane threw up his hands in frustration. "Raymond humiliates you daily, and now you're helping him elevate the woman he cheats with to a position of authority in your pack!"

"It's politics, Kane," I said, keeping my voice even. "Sometimes we make unpleasant compromises."

"No, this isn't politics. This is self-sacrifice to the point of self-destruction." He stepped closer, his voice lowering intensely. "What Raymond's doing isn't just disrespectful to you as his Luna—it undermines the entire pack structure. And you're enabling it."

The accusation stung because it contained a grain of truth. "You don't understand the complexity of my position."

"Then explain it to me," he challenged. "Make me understand why you continue to martyr yourself for people who don't deserve your loyalty."

"Because I don't have the luxury of your freedom!" The words burst out before I could stop them. "Not all of us can float through life doing whatever we please without consequences."

Kane's eyes narrowed. "Is that what you think I do? Float through life?"

"Don't you?" I shot back. "You have no real responsibilities, no one depending on you. You can walk away from any situation that becomes uncomfortable."

"That's what you believe?" His voice had gone dangerously quiet. "That I've never had to make difficult choices? Never had to sacrifice?"

I faltered, suddenly uncertain in the face of his intensity. "Your reputation speaks for itself, Kane. The eternal playboy who treats relationships like entertainment."

Something flickered in his eyes—hurt, perhaps, or disappointment. "You see what you want to see, Aurora. What's convenient for keeping me at arm's length."

"This isn't about us," I said, uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation.

"No, it's about you deliberately blinding yourself to the reality of your situation," he countered. "Raymond will never stop taking from you as long as you keep giving. And Giana is using him to gain power within your pack."

"Don't you think I know that?" My composure finally cracked. "Of course I see what's happening! I'm not blind or stupid!"

"Then why—"

"Because I don't have a choice!" The words tore from my throat, raw with emotion I'd been suppressing for too long.

"My father has threatened to cut off my mother's medical treatments if I don't maintain this charade of a marriage. Raymond's parents expect me to be the perfect, supportive Luna despite knowing their son is openly unfaithful. The pack watches my every move, waiting for me to fail!"

I was shaking now, years of carefully controlled emotion finally breaking through the dam I'd built.

"Every morning, I wake up and put on this... this mask of the dignified, unflappable Luna who pretends not to notice her husband prefers another woman. I visit my dying mother and lie to her face about my wonderful marriage because the truth would break her heart. I endure my father's contempt and threats because I have no other way to ensure my mother's care."

My voice cracked as I continued, unable to stop now that I'd started. "I handle every pack duty perfectly because one mistake would validate everyone who thinks I'm not good enough. And through all of this, I'm completely alone. Utterly, devastatingly alone."

I pressed my hands against my eyes, horrified to find them wet with tears I hadn't realized I was shedding. "So don't stand there and lecture me about self-respect when you have no idea what it costs me just to get through each day."

The silence that followed my outburst seemed to stretch forever. When I finally lowered my hands, I found Kane watching me with an expression I couldn't read—not pity, not judgment, but something more complex.

He took a step toward me, then stopped, as if uncertain of his welcome.

The vulnerability of the moment terrified me. I'd revealed too much, exposed the raw wound at the center of my carefully constructed life. Instinctively, I retreated behind the walls of composure that had protected me for so long.

"I apologize for my outburst," I said stiffly, wiping away the last traces of tears. "It's been a long day."

Kane's expression shifted, a flash of frustration replacing the previous gentleness.

"Don't do that," he said quietly.

"Do what?"

"Shut down. Retreat." He gestured between us. "We were finally having an honest conversation."

"What's the point?" I asked tiredly. "Honesty doesn't change my reality."

Kane moved closer, stopping just before me. "It could, if you'd let people help you."

"People like you?" I couldn't keep the skepticism from my voice.

Something hardened in his expression. He stepped back, that familiar mask of casual indifference sliding into place.

"You're right," he said coolly. "What was I thinking? The untouchable Luna Aurora couldn't possibly need help, especially from someone like me."

The sudden distance between us felt like physical pain, but pride kept me from reaching across it.

"This arrangement gives you access to my body, Kane, not my life choices," I said, the words coming out sharper than intended. "Don't confuse the two."

The moment the words left my mouth, I regretted them. Kane's face went completely still, all emotion draining away like water down a sink.

"Message received, loud and clear," he said, his voice devoid of its usual warmth. "I won't make that mistake again."

He turned and walked to the door, pausing with his hand on the knob. For a moment, I thought he might say something else—might give me a chance to take back my cruel words. But he left without another glance, the door closing quietly behind him.

I stood motionless in the center of my living room, the silence pressing in from all sides. The emptiness of the space seemed to mock me—here was the solitude I'd just lamented, made even more complete by my own actions.

Exhaustion hit me like a physical wave. I sank onto the couch, too drained even for tears. What had just happened? Kane had been angry on my behalf, had shown genuine concern for my wellbeing, and I'd thrown it back in his face with the cruelest words I could find.

Part of me wanted to go after him, to apologize, to explain that my harshness came from fear—fear of depending on someone who might walk away, fear of adding another vulnerability to my already precarious life.

But I remained where I was, telling myself it was better this way. Our arrangement had always been meant to be physical, not emotional. Boundaries were necessary. Safe.

As I finally dragged myself to bed, I tried to convince myself I'd done the right thing by pushing Kane away before I could start to need him. Before I could start to care for a man who made it clear he didn't believe in lasting attachments.

Yet sleep eluded me, my mind replaying the hurt in his eyes when I'd reduced what was between us to a merely physical transaction. Whatever our arrangement had started as, it had evolved into something more complex—something I'd just deliberately shattered.

The realization that I might actually miss Kane's presence in my life was perhaps the most terrifying thought of all.