His Luna Was Never Me - Chapter 11: Chapter 11
You are reading His Luna Was Never Me, Chapter 11: Chapter 11. Read more chapters of His Luna Was Never Me.
The scent of pine and rain hit me as I neared the villa—that unmistakable aroma that always clung to Ronan. My steel-cold heart didn't so much as twitch when I pushed open the door to find him collapsed against the frame. The man before me bore no resemblance to the arrogant Alpha I'd once known. He'd aged ten years overnight—his beard scraggly, eyes bloodshot, looking every bit the broken man he'd become. Cigarette butts littered the ground around him, the stench of smoke hanging thick in the air.
"Anastasia..." His voice scraped raw with desperation. "I didn't know... I didn't know Kieran was my son."
His fingers clutched at my skirt like a drowning man grasping at driftwood. But my heart stayed frozen. How dare he beg for forgiveness when he'd denied our son even a chance? When he'd doubted his own flesh and blood?
"You didn't know?" My words cut sharper than the howling wind outside. "You just assumed he wasn't yours? Couldn't even be bothered to check?"
He flinched like I'd slapped him. The regret in his eyes meant nothing now—too little, too late. "I was scared," he admitted, voice shaking. "Terrified of what the truth might be... that Kieran might actually be Alpha Atlas's son."
Atlas's name on his lips almost made me laugh. I hadn't seen the man since that one random night he'd helped me fend off some drunk in a nowhere town. One chance encounter, and Ronan had spun it into some grand betrayal?
"You thought I'd run off with Atlas?" My voice dripped with disbelief. "After you'd already thrown me away? After you took up with Adeline?"
His gaze dropped to the floor, hands trembling at his sides. His paranoia had no basis—just like our relationship never really had. But none of that mattered now. The only bridge between us—our son—was gone forever. No apology could change that.
"It's over, Ronan." My voice sounded hollow even to me. "Kieran's gone. No truth, no revelation, no begging will bring him back."
"Anastasia, please," he choked out, guilt cracking his voice. "I'll do anything. Marry you, give you my life—whatever you want."
The sight of this once-proud Alpha reduced to groveling should've moved me. Instead, it just brought back all those nights I'd spent crying, begging the moon for him to just look at us—only to be met with cold indifference.
"I want my Obsidian Howl Pack back." The words left no room for argument.
Ronan's eyes went wide. Not the request he'd expected. But I'd dreamed of Kieran last night—our boy telling me to live fully, to step into the light. And by the moon, I intended to.
He searched my face for hesitation, finding none. Finally, he nodded.
Ronan had always gotten everything backwards. He'd resented me and my mother, convinced we'd trapped him in our pack for selfish reasons—that we'd blocked him from joining the powerful Phantom Moon Pack he coveted. He never knew the truth: my father, Alpha Theron, had been the one keeping him out, threatened by Ronan's potential to take his title. I'd swallowed that truth to protect him, even handing him the Alpha title to satisfy his ambitions.
He'd mistaken my silence for manipulation, believing my mother had used our mate bond to chain him here. He'd refused to marry me until after her death, convinced he was just a pawn in our game. The cruel irony? The one person who never wanted him here was my father.
But now, the lies would end.
At dawn, Ronan called the entire pack to the great hall. The air buzzed with tension as wolves packed the room, whispers swirling like autumn leaves.
Ronan stood tall before them, though the weight of his decision showed in his rigid shoulders. His voice rang clear—an Alpha's command.
"From this moment," he declared, "I, Ronan Vale, surrender my title as Alpha of Obsidian Howl. Anastasia Leclair—rightful heir of Alpha Theron—is your Alpha now. You will obey her as you once obeyed me."
Gasps erupted through the crowd. I stood stone-still, giving nothing away. The pack was mine now—along with all its burdens.
I used to feel like an imposter in the Alpha's office. Now it was my war room.
Beta Magnus—ever loyal—brought lunch from Ronan daily, nudging me to eat between mountains of paperwork. Some days, Ronan came himself.
"You don't have to shoulder this alone," he'd say, lingering in the doorway. "We could still—"
But I'd already stopped listening.
"Anastasia..." His voice scraped raw with desperation. "I didn't know... I didn't know Kieran was my son."
His fingers clutched at my skirt like a drowning man grasping at driftwood. But my heart stayed frozen. How dare he beg for forgiveness when he'd denied our son even a chance? When he'd doubted his own flesh and blood?
"You didn't know?" My words cut sharper than the howling wind outside. "You just assumed he wasn't yours? Couldn't even be bothered to check?"
He flinched like I'd slapped him. The regret in his eyes meant nothing now—too little, too late. "I was scared," he admitted, voice shaking. "Terrified of what the truth might be... that Kieran might actually be Alpha Atlas's son."
Atlas's name on his lips almost made me laugh. I hadn't seen the man since that one random night he'd helped me fend off some drunk in a nowhere town. One chance encounter, and Ronan had spun it into some grand betrayal?
"You thought I'd run off with Atlas?" My voice dripped with disbelief. "After you'd already thrown me away? After you took up with Adeline?"
His gaze dropped to the floor, hands trembling at his sides. His paranoia had no basis—just like our relationship never really had. But none of that mattered now. The only bridge between us—our son—was gone forever. No apology could change that.
"It's over, Ronan." My voice sounded hollow even to me. "Kieran's gone. No truth, no revelation, no begging will bring him back."
"Anastasia, please," he choked out, guilt cracking his voice. "I'll do anything. Marry you, give you my life—whatever you want."
The sight of this once-proud Alpha reduced to groveling should've moved me. Instead, it just brought back all those nights I'd spent crying, begging the moon for him to just look at us—only to be met with cold indifference.
"I want my Obsidian Howl Pack back." The words left no room for argument.
Ronan's eyes went wide. Not the request he'd expected. But I'd dreamed of Kieran last night—our boy telling me to live fully, to step into the light. And by the moon, I intended to.
He searched my face for hesitation, finding none. Finally, he nodded.
Ronan had always gotten everything backwards. He'd resented me and my mother, convinced we'd trapped him in our pack for selfish reasons—that we'd blocked him from joining the powerful Phantom Moon Pack he coveted. He never knew the truth: my father, Alpha Theron, had been the one keeping him out, threatened by Ronan's potential to take his title. I'd swallowed that truth to protect him, even handing him the Alpha title to satisfy his ambitions.
He'd mistaken my silence for manipulation, believing my mother had used our mate bond to chain him here. He'd refused to marry me until after her death, convinced he was just a pawn in our game. The cruel irony? The one person who never wanted him here was my father.
But now, the lies would end.
At dawn, Ronan called the entire pack to the great hall. The air buzzed with tension as wolves packed the room, whispers swirling like autumn leaves.
Ronan stood tall before them, though the weight of his decision showed in his rigid shoulders. His voice rang clear—an Alpha's command.
"From this moment," he declared, "I, Ronan Vale, surrender my title as Alpha of Obsidian Howl. Anastasia Leclair—rightful heir of Alpha Theron—is your Alpha now. You will obey her as you once obeyed me."
Gasps erupted through the crowd. I stood stone-still, giving nothing away. The pack was mine now—along with all its burdens.
I used to feel like an imposter in the Alpha's office. Now it was my war room.
Beta Magnus—ever loyal—brought lunch from Ronan daily, nudging me to eat between mountains of paperwork. Some days, Ronan came himself.
"You don't have to shoulder this alone," he'd say, lingering in the doorway. "We could still—"
But I'd already stopped listening.
End of His Luna Was Never Me Chapter 11. Continue reading Chapter 12 or return to His Luna Was Never Me book page.