His Luna Was Never Me - Chapter 14: Chapter 14
You are reading His Luna Was Never Me, Chapter 14: Chapter 14. Read more chapters of His Luna Was Never Me.
Panic flashed in her eyes—raw and unmistakable. For just a heartbeat, the mask slipped, revealing the fear festering beneath her carefully crafted facade. She knew. One wrong move, and her entire house of cards would come crashing down.
But then, just like that, she pulled herself together, chin lifting with that infuriating confidence. "What does it matter?" she scoffed. "Mother's gone, and our dear Alpha father never gave a damn about you or Ronan. Face it—no one's left to take your side."
The air was thick with the musky, layered scents of wolves from every corner of the territory—each one a silent declaration of power, lineage, and ambition.
I ignored Adeline and Ronan, refusing to waste another second on their theatrics. Let them stew in their delusions. Tonight wasn't about them.
Tonight was about strategy. Alliances. The future of my pack.
Then Ronan's name echoed through the hall, and the crowd hushed as he strode onto the stage, his presence commanding every ounce of attention in the room.
"Thank you all for standing with the Obsidian Howl Pack," he began, voice smooth as velvet but edged with steel. "And now, I have an announcement."
His gaze locked onto mine, sharp and deliberate, and my stomach twisted. No. He wouldn't dare. Not here. Not now.
"Regarding my marriage to my mate..." He let the words linger, heavy with implication.
Before I could react, Adeline's fingers dug into my wrist. Her smile was poison wrapped in silk as she leaned in, breath hot against my ear.
"Anastasia," she murmured, sickly sweet. "If we were both bleeding out, who do you think Ronan would save?"
She didn't wait for an answer.
With a sharp tug, she yanked me forward—straight into the tower of champagne glasses at the edge of the stage. Crystal shattered. Liquid sprayed. Pain lanced up my leg as glass bit into skin, and the cold marble floor rushed up to meet us.
Adeline's scream sliced through the chaos. Right on cue, Ronan was there, hauling her up like some tragic damsel. "What the hell happened?!" he barked, voice laced with panic.
She clung to him, pressing a trembling hand to her "wounds." "D-don't blame Anastasia," she stammered, throwing me a pitiful glance. "She's just... upset about Kieran."
My son's name was a knife to the chest. Blood trickled down my leg, but the fire in my veins burned hotter. Teeth gritted, I forced myself up.
Then I snapped.
A shard of glass was in my hand before I could think, hurled straight at Adeline's smirking face. Ronan moved like lightning, blocking it with his arm. His eyes—once warm, once mine—blazed with fury.
"Enough!" he snarled. "I get that you're hurting, but this? Attacking her? What's wrong with you?"
The hypocrisy choked me. The man I'd loved, the father of my child, stood there, blind to her games. And in his arms, Adeline peered up at me, triumph glinting in her gaze.
See? that look said. He'll always pick me.
But I wasn't done.
A slow, deliberate smile curled my lips—one that made her falter. Then I reached into my dress, pulling out my phone.
Ronan frowned. The crowd leaned in.
I tapped the screen. Turned up the volume.
And let the recording speak for itself.
Adeline's voice rang out, crisp and undeniable:
"Yes, I lied to him."
The room erupted.
Her face went white.
I met her widening eyes and tilted my head, replaying her own words back to her:
"Tell me, if you and I were both hurt, who would Ronan choose?"
But then, just like that, she pulled herself together, chin lifting with that infuriating confidence. "What does it matter?" she scoffed. "Mother's gone, and our dear Alpha father never gave a damn about you or Ronan. Face it—no one's left to take your side."
The air was thick with the musky, layered scents of wolves from every corner of the territory—each one a silent declaration of power, lineage, and ambition.
I ignored Adeline and Ronan, refusing to waste another second on their theatrics. Let them stew in their delusions. Tonight wasn't about them.
Tonight was about strategy. Alliances. The future of my pack.
Then Ronan's name echoed through the hall, and the crowd hushed as he strode onto the stage, his presence commanding every ounce of attention in the room.
"Thank you all for standing with the Obsidian Howl Pack," he began, voice smooth as velvet but edged with steel. "And now, I have an announcement."
His gaze locked onto mine, sharp and deliberate, and my stomach twisted. No. He wouldn't dare. Not here. Not now.
"Regarding my marriage to my mate..." He let the words linger, heavy with implication.
Before I could react, Adeline's fingers dug into my wrist. Her smile was poison wrapped in silk as she leaned in, breath hot against my ear.
"Anastasia," she murmured, sickly sweet. "If we were both bleeding out, who do you think Ronan would save?"
She didn't wait for an answer.
With a sharp tug, she yanked me forward—straight into the tower of champagne glasses at the edge of the stage. Crystal shattered. Liquid sprayed. Pain lanced up my leg as glass bit into skin, and the cold marble floor rushed up to meet us.
Adeline's scream sliced through the chaos. Right on cue, Ronan was there, hauling her up like some tragic damsel. "What the hell happened?!" he barked, voice laced with panic.
She clung to him, pressing a trembling hand to her "wounds." "D-don't blame Anastasia," she stammered, throwing me a pitiful glance. "She's just... upset about Kieran."
My son's name was a knife to the chest. Blood trickled down my leg, but the fire in my veins burned hotter. Teeth gritted, I forced myself up.
Then I snapped.
A shard of glass was in my hand before I could think, hurled straight at Adeline's smirking face. Ronan moved like lightning, blocking it with his arm. His eyes—once warm, once mine—blazed with fury.
"Enough!" he snarled. "I get that you're hurting, but this? Attacking her? What's wrong with you?"
The hypocrisy choked me. The man I'd loved, the father of my child, stood there, blind to her games. And in his arms, Adeline peered up at me, triumph glinting in her gaze.
See? that look said. He'll always pick me.
But I wasn't done.
A slow, deliberate smile curled my lips—one that made her falter. Then I reached into my dress, pulling out my phone.
Ronan frowned. The crowd leaned in.
I tapped the screen. Turned up the volume.
And let the recording speak for itself.
Adeline's voice rang out, crisp and undeniable:
"Yes, I lied to him."
The room erupted.
Her face went white.
I met her widening eyes and tilted my head, replaying her own words back to her:
"Tell me, if you and I were both hurt, who would Ronan choose?"
End of His Luna Was Never Me Chapter 14. Continue reading Chapter 15 or return to His Luna Was Never Me book page.