Shadow of the White Moon

The sting across my face burns like fire.

I press my lips together, refusing to let tears fall. Not this time. Not anymore. I've cried enough for a lifetime in the past week.

"You worthless whore!" Stella's voice cuts through the empty hallway like a knife. Her hand connects with my other cheek before I can brace myself.

My face goes numb. I can already feel it swelling. By tonight, bruises will bloom across my skin like ugly flowers. I'll have to hide them again. Cover them with makeup. Pretend everything's fine when Damon or Elena ask if I'm okay.

"Please, Stella, that's enough." I force the words out, keeping my voice steady even though everything inside me is screaming. "I didn't know you'd be here. I was just coming back from cleaning the guest rooms."

I lift my hands to my cheeks. They're hot to the touch. Almost burning.

"Excuse me?" Stella's eyes narrow into slits. "Are you talking back to your Luna? You're nothing but dirt under my feet, Sage. You might have been Mason's girlfriend before, but those days are dead and buried. I'm his true mate now. His real Luna."

Each word is a blade sliding between my ribs. She knows exactly where to cut to make it hurt the most.

Sage, she called me. At least she got my name right this time. For the past week, she's been calling me everything but my actual name. Sarah. Sandra. Sally. Like I don't even matter enough to remember.

Before I can see what's coming next, she shoves me hard. I hit the floor with a heavy thud, my palms scraping against the cold stone. A small sound escapes my throat—not quite a whimper, but close.

I used to scream when she hurt me. Used to beg her to stop. But I learned fast that showing weakness only makes it worse. She feeds on it, grows stronger from my pain. So now I bite my tongue until I taste blood. Clench my fists until my nails dig into my palms. Pinch myself to stay focused on anything except the humiliation.

"Stupid girl." Stella leans down, her perfect face twisted with disgust. She spits in my hair, and I feel the wetness slide down my scalp. "Mason never loved you. He never will. And if I catch you trying to seduce him again, you won't just be scrubbing toilets—you'll be drinking from them too."

My stomach turns. I want to throw up.

"I wasn't trying to seduce him," I say quietly, staring at the floor. "I promise, Luna Stella. I only talked to him about a new fighting technique. As a friend. Nothing more."

The lie tastes bitter on my tongue. Because the truth is, I miss Mason so much it physically hurts. I miss talking to him, laughing with him, being near him. Yesterday when I saw him in the training yard, my body moved toward him without thinking. Old habits. Old hopes.

He'd been showing the younger wolves a defensive move. I just wanted to ask about it. That's all. But Stella saw us talking and later, she found me alone.

"Shut up!" Stella's voice rises to a shriek. "I don't care what you were doing! I told you to never speak to him again! You think he still loves you because you dated for years? That was before I showed up. Before he met his real mate. Me!"

I shake my head, tears finally breaking free and sliding down my cheeks. I can't stop them anymore. "No, you're wrong. You're wrong! He still cares about me. Mason would never be mean to me. He—"

The words catch in my throat when Stella's laugh fills the hallway. It's not a happy laugh. It's cruel and mocking, like I've just told the funniest joke she's ever heard.

"Oh, sweetie." She steps closer, and I scramble backward until my spine hits the wall. "Let me tell you something about my mate."

Before I can move, her foot comes down hard on my chest. The air rushes out of my lungs. My head cracks against the floor, and white spots dance across my vision.

"Stay away from Mason!" she snarls, her blue eyes blazing with rage. "He's mine! Mine! Say it!"

"He's yours," I whisper, because what else can I do? She's right. Mason is hers. The mate bond chose her, not me.

"Good girl." She removes her foot and smooths down her dress like nothing happened. Her long platinum hair swings as she turns away, hips swaying. "Remember your place, Sage. You're nothing here. You always have been."

Her footsteps fade down the corridor, and only then do I let myself cry. Really cry. I curl into myself, pressing against the wall behind a large potted plant. My whole body shakes with sobs I've been holding back for days.

A week ago, everything was different. A week ago, Mason held me in his arms and whispered that he loved me. That we'd figure out the mate situation together. That nothing would change between us.

He lied.

When Stella arrived with her perfect silver hair and ice-blue eyes, Mason changed overnight. The boy who promised to always protect me suddenly couldn't even look at me. The man who said he'd choose me over anyone else pushed me away without a second thought.

And now his mate—his Luna—torments me daily while the entire pack pretends not to notice.

I cry until my throat is raw and my eyes are swollen. Cry until no more tears will come. My chest aches from more than just where Stella kicked me. It aches from a broken heart that won't heal no matter how hard I try.

"This is our life now," my wolf Luna whispers inside my mind. She's been quiet lately, hiding deep inside me to escape the pain.

"I know," I whisper back. "I know."

Seven rhythmic knocks echo against my door later that evening, after I've dragged myself back to my room and hidden away like a wounded animal.

Tap-tap. Tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap.

Damon. It's always seven knocks, the same pattern since we were kids running through the forest together.

"Can I come in?" His voice is gentle through the wood.

"Wait! Just a second!" I nearly slip on the bathroom floor in my rush. I'd been in the shower, trying to scrub away the shame and the pain. Trying to wash away the memory of Stella's cruelty.

I throw on a hoodie and sweatpants as fast as I can. Gone are the days of pretty dresses and fitted clothes. Now I hide in baggy things, trying to disappear. Trying not to draw Stella's attention.

"Okay," I call out, pulling the hood up. "You can come in."

Damon enters, and I can feel his eyes on me immediately. Studying me. Seeing things I wish he wouldn't see.

Damon Pierce has been my friend since I was seven years old. He was the first person in the pack to talk to me after I was found half-frozen in that snowstorm. While other kids whispered about my strange dark hair and amber eyes, Damon just asked if I wanted to play.

"What?"