Twelve months later.
Clara gripped her basket so tightly her knuckles ached. She kept her head low as she walked through the market, trying to ignore the stares that felt like thorns.
Their whispers followed her, sharp and unrelenting, but she forced herself to breathe, to keep moving.
At a stand, she reached for the vegetables, picking them up one by one, testing their weight before placing them gently into her basket.
Then a shrill voice cut through the air. "No! Leave the vegetables!"
A woman stormed over, snatching the food from Clara's basket.
Clara froze, confusion rippling through her veins, as the woman shoved the vegetables back onto her stall and began shutting it down.
"But… I want to buy them," Clara said softly. "I'll pay."
The woman's eyes hardened. Her voice lashed like a whip. "I will not sell to a barren Luna!"
The words hit Clara harder than any blow.
The woman threw the basket at her feet.
Clara stumbled, clutching it, her mouth opening in protest.
Before she could speak, another voice rose behind her. "She must be cursed! Pack up your vegetables, everyone!"
Others moved quickly, closing their stalls, gathering their goods.
"Cursed by the moon!" one hissed as she passed Clara, her glare burning.
And then the voices increased, surrounding her like a chorus of rejection.
Clara's world tilted.
The basket slipped from her fingers, clattering to the ground. She pressed her hands against her ears, desperate to block the words, but they sank into her bones.
"Leave! You are not welcome here!"
Her chest heaved.
Clara turned and fled, her boots pounding the dirt as hot tears blurred her vision.
She didn't stop until she reached the only place left that still felt like hers. Her garden.
She dropped to her knees, the earth cool and damp beneath her palms.
Crawling to the corner, she found them, the flowers. Bright blue, vivid against the soil, more beautiful than anything else she had grown. Clara plucked one, holding it gently as tears threatened again.
Her voice came out broken, choked with the weight of everything she carried. "They called me barren. They said I was cursed."
Her trembling fingers reached for more, gathering them into her hands. "But that is going to change. The old one said you would work for me… that the moon would have mercy."
Her tears fell freely now, hot drops staining the delicate petals as her whisper cracked into the night.
At last, she had a handful of the flowers.
Clara exhaled shakily, gazing down at their blue petals. "The old one said you would bloom for me." Her voice faltered.
She closed her eyes, whispering like a prayer. "Please let her be right."
For the briefest moment, a warmth spread beneath her ribs, like a second heartbeat thrumming against her own.
She pressed a hand to her chest, startled, but it vanished just as quickly, leaving her with only silence.
She swallowed hard and pressed another flower to her palm as though sealing the plea into her skin.
Without wasting another breath, she rose, brushing dirt from her skirt. She turned back toward the house, the flowers clutched tightly to her chest.
Halfway there, her pulse quickened. It drummed in her ears, harder, faster, until each beat felt like it rattled her ribs.
A sudden chill swept down her spine, raising gooseflesh along her arms.
Clara frowned, unsettled by the strange rush of energy, but forced her legs to keep moving.
"She-wolf," a voice whispered.
Her wolf instantly growled softly as though it recognized the voice.
She spun, searching the shadows. Nothing. The garden lay still behind her.
Her fingers clenched tighter, and one of the fragile stems snapped in her grip. Her chest rose and fell.
Moments later, Clara stepped into the house and turned towards her chambers.
Adrian would be there. This was the perfect time… or so she thought.
As she moved closer, her heart raced, not just with dread but with a strange, unnameable anticipation. As if something awaited her beyond the door.
Not Adrian. Something else. Someone else.
For a breath, she let herself imagine warmth meeting her own, a steady rhythm in perfect harmony with her heartbeat.
Then a deep, familiar laugh shattered it.
Her heart skipped, then quickened. She hurried, clutching the flowers tighter.
Then another laugh broke through. High. Feminine.
The sound carved through her chest like a blade.
Clara froze mid-step, her brows twisted in a frown.
The walls seemed to close in around her.
"No… Adrian wouldn't…" she whispered, the words trembling.
But even as she said them, she knew. He had only ever touched her out of duty, never with warmth.
Still, she forced her feet forward. She had to see. She had to know.
Her chest rose and fell as she reached the door.
Something inside her stirred. Dark, restless, ready.
She gripped the handle and twisted it.
The door swung wide, and the flowers slipped from her hands, scattering across the floor like her shattered hope.
Clara could not breathe. Heat burned behind her eyes, and her fists curled so tight her nails dug crescents into her palms.
There he was. Adrian. Lying across their bed. Another she-wolf tangled in his arms.
"Adrian…" Her voice cracked, barely more than a whisper.
His head snapped toward her. The she-wolf shifted to rise, but Adrian tightened his grip on her wrist, holding her in place.
His eyes, cold and unflinching, met Clara's. "What do you want?" he asked.
His tone held no remorse. No shame. Not even anger. Just emptiness.
Clara's gaze moved to the she-wolf tangled in their sheets, then back to Adrian.
Her throat tightened. "What… what is she—" Her voice cracked, breaking under the weight of what she was witnessing.
Adrian rose, his jaw rigid, his eyes like stone. "She is my new woman," he said flatly. "And soon, she will be my Luna."
Clara's face went pale. Her fists curled so tight her nails bit into her palms.
"You can't be serious!" she snapped, her voice raw with pain. "You can only have one Luna. And that is me!"
Adrian stepped toward her, his expression hardening with every stride. "You have no say," he snarled. "Do you even know what the pack whispers? Twelve moons and still no heir! I will not remain bound to a barren Luna."
The words struck her like a blade to the gut. They hollowed her.
But deep inside, her wolf snarled. Not barren. Not broken. Waiting. For who she could not yet name.
Her breath faltered, then caught fire. "Then I'll leave," she spat, trembling with rage. "I can endure the humiliation of the pack, but not my own husband. I'm leaving!"
She spun on her heel, storming toward the door. Her skirts swirled, her footsteps sharp, defiant.
Behind her, Adrian's pride flared like open flame. His jaw clenched as he stormed after her, his chest heaving, his teeth bared.
Clara burst outside, her steps pounding the earth like a drumbeat of rebellion.