His Luna Was Never Me - Chapter 7: Chapter 7
You are reading His Luna Was Never Me, Chapter 7: Chapter 7. Read more chapters of His Luna Was Never Me.
"How the hell is this possible?" Ronan's voice was a raw mix of disbelief and barely contained fury. His eyes flicked between me and his phone like the damn thing had personally stabbed him in the back. "Beta Magnus, you've got some nerve—conspiring with Anastasia to lie to me!"
The silence that followed was suffocating. Then, with a sharp click, he ended the call, the sound hanging in the air like a gunshot. Moments later, his screen lit up—funeral details, cemetery address, the cold, hard proof of Kieran's death.
Ronan's face went pale. His gaze locked onto me, wide and unblinking, like he was seeing a ghost. "This is huge. Why the hell didn't you tell me?"
A bitter laugh tore from my throat. "Tell you? The night before we were supposed to leave for the coast, you shut off your phone, blocked my mind links, and disappeared from Obsidian Howl territory. I turned the whole damn place upside down looking for you."
My voice cracked, the hurt bleeding through. For a split second, something flickered in Ronan's eyes—regret? Shame?—before his usual steel mask slammed back into place. "If you'd just told me sooner—"
"I did tell you!" I cut him off, my patience snapping. "Every damn birthday. Every hospital discharge. Every time Kieran begged to see his father. How many times was I supposed to scream into the void before you listened?"
The memory of Kieran's hopeful eyes twisted like a knife in my chest. He'd tried so hard to reach Ronan.
At first, Ronan had excuses—"Soon, I'll visit soon." But then the calls stopped. The promises dried up. He was too busy with Adeline, too wrapped up in alliance meetings, too important for his own son. Meanwhile, Kieran, stuck in bed, would light up whenever he heard whispers about his father's latest conquests. "Is Dad in one of those big meetings again?" he'd ask, eyes shining.
And I'd lie. "Yeah, sweetheart. He'll see you when he's done."
Kieran barely remembered what Ronan looked like.
Ronan's jaw tightened, something like guilt flashing in his eyes. "I thought… I thought he was like your mother. Using his sickness to manipulate me into coming home."
White-hot rage surged through me. "You thought I was manipulating you? Every time his condition worsened, every time the healers hit a wall, I reached out. You showed up once, took one look at the reports, and decided it was all some twisted game. No matter how many times I begged, you refused to believe me."
Ronan looked stunned. "He was fine when I last saw him."
A hollow laugh escaped me. "'Last time'? Alpha, don't fucking joke. That was two years ago. Do you even remember his face?"
Silence. No comeback, no deflection—just the crushing weight of the truth.
Then, hesitantly, he stepped closer, his hand lifting to wipe the tears from my cheeks. "I'm… I'm sorry," he murmured, voice rough.
I jerked back, slapping his hand away. "Sorry?" The word tasted like ash. That's it? After everything? After Kieran was gone?
I searched his eyes—for remorse, for understanding—but found nothing.
"Oh, please," I sneered, voice dripping with venom. "Now the great Alpha Ronan suddenly remembers how to apologize."
His confidence wavered, unease flickering across his face.
"Anastasia," he said, almost pleading. "I can't bring him back, but I can make it up to you. If you want to be my Luna, we can do it tomorrow. I'll announce it to the entire pack."
The sheer audacity of it hit me like a punch to the gut. He actually thought a title and a ring could erase years of neglect. Could erase Kieran.
My lips curled. "No thanks, Alpha. We're—"
The silence that followed was suffocating. Then, with a sharp click, he ended the call, the sound hanging in the air like a gunshot. Moments later, his screen lit up—funeral details, cemetery address, the cold, hard proof of Kieran's death.
Ronan's face went pale. His gaze locked onto me, wide and unblinking, like he was seeing a ghost. "This is huge. Why the hell didn't you tell me?"
A bitter laugh tore from my throat. "Tell you? The night before we were supposed to leave for the coast, you shut off your phone, blocked my mind links, and disappeared from Obsidian Howl territory. I turned the whole damn place upside down looking for you."
My voice cracked, the hurt bleeding through. For a split second, something flickered in Ronan's eyes—regret? Shame?—before his usual steel mask slammed back into place. "If you'd just told me sooner—"
"I did tell you!" I cut him off, my patience snapping. "Every damn birthday. Every hospital discharge. Every time Kieran begged to see his father. How many times was I supposed to scream into the void before you listened?"
The memory of Kieran's hopeful eyes twisted like a knife in my chest. He'd tried so hard to reach Ronan.
At first, Ronan had excuses—"Soon, I'll visit soon." But then the calls stopped. The promises dried up. He was too busy with Adeline, too wrapped up in alliance meetings, too important for his own son. Meanwhile, Kieran, stuck in bed, would light up whenever he heard whispers about his father's latest conquests. "Is Dad in one of those big meetings again?" he'd ask, eyes shining.
And I'd lie. "Yeah, sweetheart. He'll see you when he's done."
Kieran barely remembered what Ronan looked like.
Ronan's jaw tightened, something like guilt flashing in his eyes. "I thought… I thought he was like your mother. Using his sickness to manipulate me into coming home."
White-hot rage surged through me. "You thought I was manipulating you? Every time his condition worsened, every time the healers hit a wall, I reached out. You showed up once, took one look at the reports, and decided it was all some twisted game. No matter how many times I begged, you refused to believe me."
Ronan looked stunned. "He was fine when I last saw him."
A hollow laugh escaped me. "'Last time'? Alpha, don't fucking joke. That was two years ago. Do you even remember his face?"
Silence. No comeback, no deflection—just the crushing weight of the truth.
Then, hesitantly, he stepped closer, his hand lifting to wipe the tears from my cheeks. "I'm… I'm sorry," he murmured, voice rough.
I jerked back, slapping his hand away. "Sorry?" The word tasted like ash. That's it? After everything? After Kieran was gone?
I searched his eyes—for remorse, for understanding—but found nothing.
"Oh, please," I sneered, voice dripping with venom. "Now the great Alpha Ronan suddenly remembers how to apologize."
His confidence wavered, unease flickering across his face.
"Anastasia," he said, almost pleading. "I can't bring him back, but I can make it up to you. If you want to be my Luna, we can do it tomorrow. I'll announce it to the entire pack."
The sheer audacity of it hit me like a punch to the gut. He actually thought a title and a ring could erase years of neglect. Could erase Kieran.
My lips curled. "No thanks, Alpha. We're—"
End of His Luna Was Never Me Chapter 7. Continue reading Chapter 8 or return to His Luna Was Never Me book page.