The Wolf God's Unwanted Luna

Vivian’s POV

"I’m older than I look, Luna," he said, still staring fixatedly out the window as if he were deeply afraid to look me in the eyes. "I’ve seen what black magic does. I’ve watched wolves completely destroy themselves trying to mess with dangerous things far beyond our understanding... but when it comes to death... there’s always a steep price to pay."

His broad fists clenched tightly at his sides, and through my heightened lycan senses, I could hear the sharp grinding of his back teeth. His heart was beating wildly in his chest, hammering like it was desperately fighting against the tragic truth trying to escape his mouth.

Black magic. Just hearing the sinister term made my skin prickle with uneasy chills. I didn’t know much about dark arts only quiet whispers, terrible horror stories, and strict pack warnings. It was more than enough to know it was deeply dangerous, dark, and twisted. And using forbidden magic to escape death? That was like playing a deadly game of tug-of-war with the ancient gods themselves.

"Who was she trying to save?" I asked softly, already terrified of the answer.

He hesitated just long enough for my breath to catch in my throat, and then he said, his voice almost too soft to hear, "Our son."

My heart sank like a heavy stone dropped into freezing water.

They had a child. Albericus and Aurora... they had a son together.

And they lost him.

I couldn’t breathe for a long moment, the crushing weight of his confession hitting me hard in the chest. The profound grief lingering in Albericus’s aura wasn’t fresh, but it had clearly never healed. No wonder his loud laughter had always felt a little too forced sometimes. No wonder his cheerful smile always had quiet moments of hidden pain behind it. He had been carrying this unbearable tragedy all along.

I immediately pictured myself in his place imagining me and Zaliver, holding a sweet child of our own, and then... losing them to the shadows. I nearly choked on the sudden rush of agonizing emotion. My beast whimpered softly inside my mind, while my wolf growled protectively. The mere thought alone was completely unbearable. The sheer pain of losing a child... and a mate? It would utterly destroy me.

"Did it work?" I asked quietly, barely able to push the trembling words past the thick lump in my throat. I knew I shouldn’t pry any further, but hope is a cruel thing. It clawed relentlessly at my heart, wanting needing some kind of miraculous outcome for him.

Silence filled the room.

His heavy breathing slowed down.

My heart broke all over again.

I could smell it in the air before I even saw it the sharp, bitter scent of deep sorrow too heavy for one person to hold inside. He turned around very slowly, a single tear slipping silently down his pale cheek. His green eyes stayed tightly shut, as if the memory itself was far too painful to witness again. His entire muscular frame was trembling violently, as if the massive effort to stay upright was becoming too much to bear.

And then, he dropped directly to his knees.

"No," he whispered, his voice cracking wide open into a raw, gut-wrenching sob that echoed mournfully through the living room.

Tears streamed freely down his face now, and through our newly forming connection, I could feel every single ounce of his shattering agony as if it were my own.

I knelt on the floor beside him without a second thought, gently placing my hand on his broad shoulder. There were simply no human words powerful enough to soothe this profound kind of loss. But I stayed right there with him silent, steady, and present as his cries filled the quiet room.

And the only thing I could offer him was my unconditional presence.

Because sometimes, that’s all we truly have left to give when everything else has been stolen away.

People always say that comforting a broken person is hard, but to me, the truly difficult part is being the brave one who breaks down in front of others. Letting someone see you like that torn wide open, vulnerable, and stripped completely clean of all your defenses takes far more courage than people ever give credit for.

The very second he collapsed under the weight of his grief, my Luna instincts took over completely.

Without a moment of hesitation, I dropped all the way to the ground and wrapped my arms tightly around him. This big, terrifyingly powerful Beta was shaking like a frail leaf as decades of buried grief shattered right through him. His sobs were raw, gut-wrenching, and heart-breaking, and all I could do was hold him tighter against me.

I rocked us slowly back and forth on the floor, murmuring soft, comforting words that I wasn’t even sure he could consciously hear. I brushed his short curls back gently, letting him cry out his pain for as long as he needed. My wolf stirred deep inside my chest, her own silent sorrow rising smoothly to the surface. She felt his loss too not just a generic sadness, but something far deeper. A silent thread of a sacred pack connection was forming between us and him.

I don’t think either of us ever expected to feel this deep of a bond, especially not after the rocky way our relationship had started. And now? My wolf was deeply ashamed of having violently attacked him earlier. She carried that heavy guilt like a fresh wound.

We must have sat there together on the hardwood floor for twenty minutes, maybe even longer. Time blurred completely into silence and the quiet sounds of his healing pain.

Slowly, his heavy breathing began to steady out. The violent shaking of his shoulders stopped. He didn’t immediately move, though. He just sat there, his broad body feeling heavy against mine, his wild emotions gradually settling into a calmer state. They were still stormy, but vastly quieter now. It was like he was carefully corking the dark bottle again, shoving everything back down into the depths where it wouldn’t hurt quite so loudly.

"Sorry about that, Luna," he rasped out. His voice was completely hoarse, his quiet laugh sounding dry and fragile as he used the back of his sleeve to rub at the tear tracks streaking his red cheeks. His eyes were heavily rimmed with red, his face still flushed from the raw intensity of it all.

Whoever had originally said that strong men don’t cry had clearly never seen a grieving father mourn his lost family.

"Don’t you dare apologize," I told him softly, offering a comforting squeeze to his shoulder. "I’m just glad you finally let some of that pain out. How are you feeling?"

I already had a pretty good idea based on what I was sensing, but I wanted to hear the words come directly from him.

"I’m fine. Really," he said, his tone turning gruff as if the firm words were spoken to convince both of us. He stood up off the floor, pulling away from the embrace. I stayed seated on the floor for a second longer, peering up at his tall frame with a raised brow. But I didn’t push him any further. Talking about losing a child... that simply wasn’t something anyone should ever be forced to revisit.

He cleared his throat loudly and deliberately tried to shift the heavy mood in the room. "So, what exactly can you do now that you’re all mighty, powerful, and upgraded?" he asked, a crooked, familiar smile tugging weakly at the corner of his mouth.

I watched the subtle emotional shift roll through him. Albericus was expert at stuffing his deep pain down, burying it quickly beneath sarcastic jokes and lighthearted distractions. It genuinely surprised me how fast he could physically recover, but that was just the supernatural way of our kind. We healed quickly both physically and emotionally sometimes almost too quickly for our own good.

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