Chapter 1 Glory And A Birthday You Forgot

• The night was thick, heavy–like the world itself was holding its breath. It wasn’t cold, but it was colder than it should have been for Fall.
• It was 9:37 P.M. when I stepped foot back on Moon Claw Pack land in Dallas, the northern territory bathed in the kind of silence only cold success could bring. The city was alive–still bright and loud and busy–but muted. Always infuriatingly muted.
• I may just return from the International Medical Headquarters.
• Youngest doctoral researcher in werewolf medical science.
• Lead developer of the Lunar Phase Suppressant–a breakthrough serum that saved Alpha and Omega teens from slipping into uncontrollable rampages during their first transformation. Especially those with unstable bloodlines–those like my own son, Luca.
• I’d walked away from a prestigious award dinner in Geneva, still wearing the navy silk dress from the ceremony, the Silver Claw Medal heavy against my chest.
• All I could think about during that thirteen-hour flight was their faces–Darius’s quiet pride, Lyra’s bright smile, Luca clinging to my hand.
• I wanted them to see this. I needed them to feel this victory with me.
• Because today wasn’t just a professional milestone.
• Today was my birthday.
• I stood in the front yard of our house, the cold wind tugging at the hem of my coat as I pulled out my phone, heart beating just a little faster. I wasn’t foolish–I didn’t expect streamers or a banner, but maybe just a message. A text.
• Anything.
• Hundreds of notifications flooded my phone. Messages from every pack in the country: The Elder Council, The National Research Institute…even two foreign Alphas sent congratulatory video calls.
• A blade of icy wind cut through the yard, stirring the grass into a chorus of shivering whispers. With the chill came the news that the hostile Ash Claw Pack had invaded the border.
• But not a single word from Darius. My phone was practically glued to my hand.
• My screen lit up again, and I fumbled to check it, hope fluttering recklessly in my chest.
• Nothing. It was just a system push notification: “Congratulations, Dr. Luna! You’ve been awarded the Silver Claw Medal!”
• I stared at the screen. My fingers trembled, transparent under the screen’s glow. Still no message from him. So much for distance makes the heart grow fonder.
• I refreshed everything–checked my blacklist like an idiot. Nothing. Still.
• He really hadn’t said a word.
• A bitter laugh bubbled in my throat. Maybe he’s busy. Maybe his phone died. Maybe he forgot. Again.
• I inhaled deeply, willing the ache in my chest to settle.
• “He hasn’t remembered for the past seven years,” I murmured to myself. “Why would this year be any different?”
• By the time I reached the front steps, the wind had scattered dry leaves across the porch. They crunched under each step, as if announcing my arrival. The door opened before I could knock.
• Linda, our old housekeeper, blinked in surprise. “Luna? Why didn’t you tell us you were coming home?”
• “Do I need permission to come back to my own house?” My voice wasn’t cold, just…tired.
• “...Ah, another skirmish in the domestic war,” Linda mumbled.
• “Where’s Darius? And the kids?”
• She hesitated. “Alpha is…at the Council headquarters. There was an emergency case tonight. Lyra’s in the music room. Luca went to play in the woods near the north border earlier.”
• I didn’t say anything else. Just nodded, placed the small velvet medal box safely in my coat pocket, and headed upstairs to drop off my bags.
• The music room door was ajar. I paused.
• There she was.
• Lyra.
• Perched on the piano bench, fingers dancing across the keys, lips moving softly as she hummed. “Ode to the Moon’s Breath”.
• Her favorite song.
• My chest tightened, a smile tugging at my lips. My daughter. My little moonbeam.
• “Lyra,” I whispered softly, not wanting to scare her.
• She turned her head sharply, her eyes lighting up for half a second. “Mommy!”
• I opened my arms, but then–just as quickly–she looked away.
• “I’m practicing,” She muttered, eyes fixed on the keys. “Daddy said I must be ready for the Meteor Festival. I’m opening the ceremony.”
• I stepped closer, my voice was gentle. “That’s wonderful. Are you performing this piece?”
• “Mmhmm. And a surprise one, too. Aunt Emma helped me choose it.”
• Aunt Emma.
• She said it so casually, so effortlessly–like the name belonged there, like the woman belonged here.
• The medal in my coat pocket suddenly felt heavier.
• “I rushed back to surprise you,” I started. “I thought maybe we could–”
• “I’m busy, Mommy,” Lyra said, eyes not leaving the piano. “Please don’t talk. You’ll mess up my rhythm.”
• I stood there for a few long, quiet seconds. Watching her. Wondering when I became a stranger in my own child’s life. My thoughts drifted to my mother–the only true warmth of family I’ve ever known. If she were still here, it wouldn’t matter how cold Darius and Lyra were; I could still find shelter in her embrace.
• “Lyra,” I said, barely audible. “Do you know what day it is today?”
• She scrunched her face in thought, tilting her head slightly.
• “Um…isn’t it the moon practice night before the ritual?”
• I nodded slowly, swallowing hard. “...Yeah. Guess it is.”
• She didn’t even look up.
• I turned and left without another word.
• No one remembered my birthday. No one cared.
• When I brought honors home, when I staggered back from the battlefield, when I was selected to serve on the Tactical Council as one of the scarcest frontline healers–I was invisible all the time. My blood, my scars, my sacrifices for the pack meant nothing to my family.
• Downstairs, Linda approached with hesitant steps. “Luna…I managed to reach Alpha Darius. He said the Council meeting is running all night. He suggested you get some rest.”
• “Right.”
• I stepped into the dim hallway and dialed his number. One ring. Two. Four. Then he picked up.
• “I’m in a meeting. Can we talk tomorrow?”
• In the background, a soft, honeyed voice drifted through the speaker.
• “Darius, who is it? The coffee is getting cold.”
• Emma.
• I clenched my jaw and ended the call without another word. I sat on the staircase for a long time, phone clutched so tightly my knuckles were white, trying to convince myself I hadn’t known this all along. I wanted this to be a shock–or at least more than just a disappointing confirmation.
• Finally, I typed one last message.
• -The meteor shower’s tonight. Thought we could take the kids up to the hill.
• He replied after almost twenty minutes.
• -Can’t. Tonight’s agenda is packed. Cancel it.
• No apology. No explanation. Just a command.
• I forced myself to shift my focus. After all, there were bigger fish to fry. I stared at the world map for a while, then shared the joy of my award with the warriors at the frontlines. Deep down, I always hoped someone would clap for me, too.
• But the warfront had shifted again, and I had to carve out more time to watch over it–and be ready to go whenever they called for me.
• I was about to head up the stairs when I heard Lyra’s voice from the hallway.
• “Aunt Linda, if Mommy’s back, does that mean we can’t go watch the meteors with Aunt Emma anymore?”
• Linda’s voice was cautious. “Miss Lyra…Luna is your mother.”
• Lyra’s response was a dagger to the heart.
• “But I want Aunt Emma to be my mom. She’s pretty and kind. She doesn’t always look so angry and scary like Mommy.”
• My legs buckled slightly. I felt frozen on the staircase, air leaving my lungs in a sharp hiss. I clutched the banister as if it could keep me from crumbling.
• Inside, my wolf–Lucy–let out a wounded howl.
• “We’re not her mom anymore,” She whispered. “We’ve already been replaced.”
• Just as I was about to return to my room, the front door burst open.
• Bang!
• “Take that back!”
• Luca’s voice cracked with fury as he charged into the hallway, cheeks flushed from running, his brown curls damp with sweat.
• “She is our mother!” He stormed toward Lyra, fists clenched. “She tested medicine on herself to make sure it wouldn’t hurt us! She stayed up for three nights when we couldn’t control our transformations!”
• His voice broke.
• “What has Emma done, huh? What? She tore this family apart! She doesn’t love us–she just loves him!”
• Lyra shrank under her brother’s words, stunned into silence.
• “You didn’t even say happy birthday,” Luca snapped. “She got the Silver Claw Medal tonight–every Alpha, every Pack is celebrating her. And all of you? You forgot.”
• I stood motionless. My heart cracked…but it didn’t break. A small pulse. A flicker of warmth.
• At least one of them still remembered.
• At least one still loved me.
• Back in my room, I opened the bottom drawer of my desk. The envelope was still there, untouched. My resignation papers from the Pack. And…the divorce documents I’d never signed.
• Until now.
• I slid the Silver Claw Medal into the envelope, and with a deep breath, signed my name on both sets of papers.
• Linda was already up. I handed her the sealed envelope. My hands didn’t shake this time.
• “Please give this to Alpha Darius,” I said softly.
• She looked at me–really looked at me. Her hands trembled slightly as she took it.
• But she nodded.