The Betrayal

“I’m excited,”

Selene had always known the ceremonial hall as a place of solemnity, where tradition and authority were revered. It was where the pack’s most sacred rites were held, where bonds were formed, and promises made. So when she was summoned there, she assumed it was a private matter. Perhaps Darius wanted to speak with her alone—something urgent, maybe a decision about the future of the pack. She had always trusted him, believed in their bond, even when the distance between them had grown over the past few months.

But as the heavy oak doors were swung open, she was met with the glaring lights of the hall. The scent of oak and sage, usually so calming, felt suffocating now, almost too sharp. The air crackled with tension. Her throat tightened as she was dragged forward by two of the pack’s enforcers, their hands tight on her arms, their grip unforgiving. She stumbled slightly, her heart pounding, as she tried to adjust to the change in pace.

The hall was packed with members of the pack—leaders, warriors, and a scattering of younger wolves, all gathered for what seemed like an ordinary council meeting. But as she was shoved into the center, her eyes searched frantically for Darius. The Alpha was standing at the far end of the room, flanked by the pack’s highest-ranking officials. His cold blue eyes met hers, and for a moment, they locked.

Then, without a word, the tension in the room seemed to snap. She could feel it before it happened—the betrayal.

“Selene.” Darius’s voice sliced through the stillness, the cool, clipped tone making her heart skip.

She turned, her fingers tightening around the leather of her pants. His presence had always been a comfort, a steady force. Now, as he stood across the room with his arms crossed, his eyes cold and unreadable, it felt like he was a stranger. The weight of his gaze bore down on her, sharp and unyielding.

“Darius?” she asked softly, her heart racing. She wasn’t sure what to expect—maybe a private conversation about the tension that had been building between them, something she’d been dreading, but hoping for a resolution. “What is it?”

Darius didn’t answer right away. His gaze flicked to the pack members gathered in the ceremonial hall, some sitting, some standing, all of them waiting. She could feel the eyes of the entire pack on her, and the heat in her chest intensified. Something wasn’t right.

He took a deep breath, a long pause that seemed to stretch on forever. Then, he spoke. “Selene Nightshade, I, Darius, Alpha of the Shadowfang Pack, hereby reject you as my Luna.”

The words hit her like a physical blow, sharp and final. Her stomach twisted, and her mouth went dry. Rejection. The word seemed hollow in her mind, repeating over and over again, but it didn’t make sense. Not from him. Not after everything they had shared.

“Darius,” she breathed, her voice trembling despite herself. She took a step toward him, but her legs felt weak, unsteady. The room felt too small, the air too thick. “What are you talking about? You can’t—”

But he didn’t let her finish. “I’ve found someone better suited to the role of Luna.” His voice was cold, detached, as though she were nothing more than a passing inconvenience.

From the shadows, a woman stepped forward, her presence bold and graceful. Lyra. The name echoed in her head as if to remind her of the betrayal. Selene’s pulse quickened, a sickening realization sinking in. She’d never expected it to be Lyra—the woman who had always been by her side, always seemed like a friend, but whose smile now seemed too sharp, too knowing.

Darius’s hand rested possessively on Lyra’s shoulder, his fingers curling slightly, claiming her in front of the pack. The air shifted. The room seemed to constrict around Selene, and she stood frozen, her chest tight with the sudden, overwhelming weight of the betrayal.

“This,” Darius continued, his gaze now turning to the pack, “…..is my new Luna, Lyra.” He looked at Selene one last time, as if to drive the knife in deeper. “She is strong. She is capable. She understands what it means to lead.”

Selene felt the sting of his words, the humiliation creeping up her throat like bile. The murmurs around her were loud in her ears, the pack’s whispers, their judgment. She could almost feel the eyes of the pack members on her, some with pity, others with something far colder.

Lyra’s smile was a sliver of ice. She stepped forward, meeting Selene’s gaze with a look of quiet triumph. “I will take my place as the true Luna of the Shadowfang Pack,” she said, her voice silky and smooth, though Selene could detect the malicious undertone.

Selene’s throat tightened, her breath shallow. She wanted to scream, wanted to tear everything apart, but she held herself back. Not here. Not in front of all of them.

“You—” she started, her voice breaking. She swallowed hard, the bitter taste of betrayal lingering on her tongue. “You promised. We promised, Darius.” She took a step back, the ground beneath her feeling unstable. “I thought we were—”

But Darius turned away from her, his gaze already fixed on the pack. “The promise was broken the moment you showed weakness, Selene. The pack cannot be led by someone who cannot stand tall. I can’t afford weakness.” He didn’t even spare her another glance.

The words were like a slap to the face, each one reverberating through her chest. Weakness? She had given everything for this pack. She had sacrificed her own happiness, her own desires, all for them. And this was the reward? Her throat burned with the need to say something—anything—but nothing came out. She could feel the weight of the pack’s eyes on her, the judgment, the pity.

“I won’t accept this,” she whispered, her voice low but fierce.

Darius didn’t respond. He didn’t even look at her. Instead, he wrapped his arm around Lyra’s waist, pulling her close, and a twisted, triumphant smile played on Lyra’s lips as she leaned into him. The sight was enough to crack the dam she had been holding back.

The hall seemed to close in on her as the realization sank in. It wasn’t just the pack that had betrayed her—it was him. The man she had loved, the man she had trusted with everything.

A wave of cold fury surged through her veins, burning away the shock, the heartbreak. She could feel her pulse roaring in her ears, and the edges of her vision grew sharper, clearer, as the wolf inside her began to stir.

Selene turned, her breath coming in sharp, quick gasps. She felt the sting of betrayal laced with something darker, a deeper rage bubbling up from the core of her being.

Her legs trembled, but she forced herself to move, each step purposeful, deliberate. She wasn’t going to fall apart. Not here. Not in front of them.

Selene’s breath hitched as the hands gripped her arms, pulling her forward. The cold, unforgiving stone of the ceremonial hall floor pressed against her knees. Her skin burned with the shame of being forced to kneel before the pack, the very pack she had fought for, bled for, and given everything to.

The cheering filled the air like a thousand shards of glass, each one slicing through her heart. She could hear the voices, the laughter, the triumphant cries of the pack as they hailed Lyra—the new Luna, the woman who had taken everything from her. It was a sickening chorus, a celebration of her downfall, and Selene’s world seemed to tilt on its axis.

Darius stood above her, tall and unyielding, his posture rigid with authority. His eyes, once warm and familiar, were now cold and indifferent, as though she was nothing more than a fading memory. He turned to the pack, his lips curling into a smile that was more cruel than kind.

“This is the end of the Nightshade reign,” he declared, his voice carrying throughout the hall. “Let this be a lesson to all who would doubt the strength of the Shadowfang Pack. Lyra is the new Luna, and together, we will lead this pack into a new era of power.”

The cheers erupted again, deafening, mocking. The sound of it was like nails on a chalkboard, each cheer a reminder of the betrayal that now settled in her bones. Lyra stood beside him, her posture perfect, her eyes gleaming with something darker than pride—something that felt far more like malice. She placed a hand on Darius’s arm, a subtle gesture of ownership, as though marking her territory, making sure the pack knew who stood at the top.

Selene’s throat burned, but she refused to let herself cry, refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing her break. She had been weak before, but no more. This humiliation wouldn’t be the end of her. It couldn’t be.

But then Darius moved closer, his form casting a shadow over her. He crouched down, so close that she could feel the heat of his breath against her skin. His words came in a low whisper, cold and cutting.

“You were never meant to be my Luna.”

The words struck like a whip, harsh and unforgiving, echoing in her ears long after they left his lips. She looked up at him, her eyes wild with hurt, but all she saw was the man who had once been hers, the man who had broken her heart without a second thought. He had never loved her. Not truly.

Darius straightened, stepping away from her, and she was left kneeling on the stone floor, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. Her pulse thudded in her ears, and a quiet fury simmered deep within her. This was not how it ended. It couldn’t be.

But as if to confirm her worst fears, Darius raised his hand, silencing the room. The pack fell into an eerie quiet, and she could feel their gazes on her—some with pity, others with cruel satisfaction.

“Execution,” Darius’s voice rang out, firm and final.

Selene’s heart stopped.

Her breath caught in her throat as she looked up at him, her eyes wide with disbelief. The words didn’t make sense. Not from him. Not after everything they had been through.

“Darius…” she choked out, her voice barely a whisper. “You can’t… You can’t do this.”

But he was already looking away, dismissing her, as though her very existence meant nothing. His gaze shifted to the pack. “This is how we deal with weakness. Selene’s betrayal is unforgivable. She’s no longer fit to walk among us.”

The words cut deeper than any physical wound. Betrayal. Weakness. She had given everything for this pack, for him. And this… this was how he repaid her.

The cold stone beneath her knees felt like the only anchor in the world now. Her body trembled, not with fear, but with a rage so pure, so wild, that it threatened to consume her. She wouldn’t let it end like this. She couldn’t.

She clenched her jaw and pushed herself to her feet, despite the hands that tried to shove her back down. Her wolf surged within her, its power clawing to be released, but she held it back. Not yet.

“Do it, then,” Selene spat, her voice strong despite the lump in her throat. “End me, Darius. If that’s what you want.”

The tension in the hall was suffocating. The pack watched in silence, their collective breath held. And in that moment, Selene realized something. They were waiting for her to break. They wanted her to kneel in defeat, to beg for mercy. But Selene Nightshade would not be broken.

Not now. Not ever.

Her gaze locked with Darius’s, and she stood tall, refusing to let him see the cracks forming beneath her exterior.

“I won’t beg you, Darius,” she said, her voice unwavering. “You think you can destroy me, by doing this, go on,”

For a moment, the room was still. Then, a ripple of murmurs spread through the pack, whispers like the rustle of dry leaves in the wind.

Darius hesitated, just for a moment, but it was enough. Enough to make her wonder if the man who had once loved her—who had once fought beside her—was still there, buried somewhere beneath the mask of the Alpha he had become.

But it was too late for hesitation. He had already made his choice.

“Do it,” Darius repeated, his voice steely, like ice breaking beneath the weight of his own conviction.

A pair of warriors stepped forward, their faces emotionless as they unsheathed their blades. The pack stood, watching in silence, as the first warrior raised his sword, its edge gleaming under the harsh light of the torches.

Selene’s breath hitched, but her resolve held firm. She wouldn’t show fear. She wouldn’t let them see her weakness. If this was her end, she would meet it on her own terms.

The sword came down. Cold, cruel, and unforgiving.

Her entire world seemed to narrow, the sharp edge of the blade a flash of silver before her eyes, and then—nothing.

It wasn’t pain that followed. It was fire. A searing, white-hot blaze that consumed her in an instant, a wildfire spreading through her veins, igniting every muscle, every nerve, every thought. The flames were not just physical; they tore at her soul, devouring everything in their path.

Revenge. It surged through her like a wave, consuming her thoughts before the darkness took hold. She felt the need for vengeance rise, a primal hunger. She was not going to die weak. She was not going to die forgotten.

The flames roared louder in her ears, drowning out the sounds of the pack, the sounds of her betrayal. She could feel the heat, the burn, and her blood seemed to boil with it. The thought of Darius—of all of them—betraying her, casting her aside, pretending she was nothing… the betrayal that had ripped her apart inside. It was the last thing she would ever feel.

But before the darkness swallowed her whole, before she could no longer breathe or think or even exist, she had one final thought.

I will make them pay.

Then, everything went black.

There was no pain. No sensation. No world to cling to.

Just the oppressive, crushing nothingness.