Chapter 4 Luna's Disconnection

• Lyra bolted upright in bed, her golden eyes flashing with excitement. “Wait, really? We’re going back to Moon Claw Pack?!”
• “Yes,” her father replied calmly over the phone.
• Lyra’s entire face lit up. “Then why didn’t Aunt Emma say anything?”
• “She doesn’t know yet. We just finalized everything.”
• Lyra squealed and rolled across the bed like a wolf pup shedding its first coat. “Then don’t tell her yet! Let’s surprise her, okay?”
• “Alright,” her father chuckled. “It’s our secret.”
• “Dad, you’re the best! I love you to death!”
• Outside the door, Luca stood in silence. The moonlight filtering through the window painted a pale glow across his slight frame. His expression was unreadable, but beneath his sleeves, his fists were clenched so tightly his knuckles had turned white.
• Inside, Lyra ended the call, still buzzing. She began humming the old Moon Claw morning song—a tune once reserved for pack runs and sunrise rituals. It used to make her feel connected. But just as the melody left her lips, something shifted.
• A heaviness.
• A sudden, unwelcome stillness.
• She hadn’t spoken to her mom in days. Not because she’d been too busy—but because she hadn’t wanted to. She’d missed their scheduled calls on purpose. For once, life had felt lighter without the weight of guilt or longing.
• But now? Now her chest felt tight.
• Without thinking, she pulled out her phone and dialed her mother’s number. The ringtone barely rang twice before she hung up—pouting, frustrated, uncertain.
• ——
• I stirred at the sound of my phone buzzing beside me, groggy and disoriented. Lyra’s name flashed across the screen, but the call had already ended. I sat up instantly, an uneasy flutter dancing in my chest. I called her back.
• No answer.
• My heartbeat quickened.
• I grabbed the landline and called the villa.
• Linda picked up almost immediately. “Luna? Lyra’s fine, don’t worry. She woke up late today—I just checked on her. She’s upstairs getting ready.”
• Relief washed over me like a cold tide. “Thank you, Linda.”
• But sleep never came again that night. My mind wouldn’t stop racing.
• ——
• The next morning at work, I could barely focus. My energy was shot, my thoughts scattered. By noon, I quietly slid the divorce agreement—the one with “waiving custody” scrawled in cold, indifferent print—back into the drawer.
• I couldn’t bring myself to sign it.
• ——
• Elsewhere, Darius was zipping up his final bag, preparing to take the kids from Dallas back to the Ironvale Ridge Pack. As usual, no one thought to tell me.
• Two weeks had passed since I left the villa in North Dallas. The first few days had felt suffocating. The silence was too loud. But now… I was learning to live with it. I even began to appreciate the solitude.
• It was the weekend before the full moon. I didn’t wake up until nearly noon. The soft sunlight spilled through the curtains and kissed the Moonshadow Grass I’d planted by the window. It was one of the few things I’d brought from the villa. A tiny piece of who I used to be.
• I was just about to fix something to eat when the doorbell rang.
• I opened it to find Becky from across the hall, holding a tray of cinnamon rolls, the warmth still rising off the foil.
• “Miss Rae, I hope I’m not interrupting?”
• “Not at all. I just woke up,” I said, pulling my cardigan tighter.
• “If it weren’t for you last week… our little boy would’ve been bitten. That rogue was seconded away. We’re just so grateful.”
• I smiled softly, genuinely touched. “It was nothing. Really.”
• She handed me the tray and left after a few words of thanks. I set the rolls on the table and opened my laptop, needing something to pull me back into my own mind.
• I buried myself in research. I’d been working on AI applications for controlling young werewolf mutation phases—seeing if behavioral triggers could be stabilized through neural-computer interface models. A passion project… or maybe just a way to forget.
• Later that afternoon, a news alert popped up.
• “Lunaris Institute Celebrates 150th Anniversary.”
• The headline hit me like a gut punch.
• I stared at it for too long. Frozen. Stuck.
• The trending feed was flooded with articles about returning alumni, honorary lectures, and showcases of arcane scientific achievements. As I scrolled through the names—the familiar ones—I felt something deep inside me stir.
• These were the people I used to pull all-nighters with. The ones I’d argued with over research ethics and coding sequences in the Moonshadow Hall labs.
• If I hadn’t rushed into marriage and given up everything for Darius six years ago…I would’ve been up there too. On that stage. Wearing my own honorary pin. I clenched my jaw as I felt a familiar heat—a familiar anger—start to bubble in my chest. I shut my laptop harder than I should have.
• I took a deep breath, then grabbed my keys and left.
• ——
• By the time I reached the gates of the Lunaris Institute, the sun was dipping behind the hills, bathing the world in gold and rose.
• I walked slowly, almost reverently, through the familiar tree-lined campus. Everything looked the same yet felt like a ghost town of my memories.
• As I passed the old experimental building, someone called out— “Rae?”
• I froze.
• Twenty minutes later, we sat across from each other at a quiet café just off campus. The place hadn’t changed in years.
• Joe pushed an Americano across the table. “You look good.”
• I gave him a tired smile. “I’m getting a divorce.”
• He didn’t say anything. Just lowered his eyes and gently placed his cup back down. “Are you thinking about coming back?” He asked after a long pause.
• I hesitated. “I’ve thought about it.” I stared down at my cup. My voice barely rose above a whisper. “But AI evolves so fast. I don’t know if I can keep up anymore.”
• Joe’s gaze held mine with quiet intensity. “You were one of the project’s original architects. We built this with your hands and your brilliance. The Pack’s research team needs that kind of legacy. They need you.”
• Lucy stirred inside me, proud. She lifted her wolf head in acknowledgment, her energy strong and sure. “Finally,” she seemed to whisper. “You’re remembering who we are.” We always reclaim our dignity in research, in battle, and in clashes with enemy packs.
• I didn’t speak for a long time.
• Outside the window, the moon rose slowly into the sky—bright, quiet, and eternal.
• And with it, the night of the werewolf world descended once again.