Wearing My Sister’s Crown

After my sister Kaela died in a rogue attack, I married her mate, Alpha Marcus Nightshade.

Cold. Commanding. Devastatingly powerful. He ruled the Shadow Walker Pack with silence and scars… and I stood beside him as his unwanted Luna.

Worse—I became stepmother to their five-year-old pup, Lucas.

On my 25th birthday, I wore Kaela’s old ceremonial dress by mistake.

Lucas’s growl silenced the pack’s laughter.

Then he threw my cake in my face and snarled, “I wish it was you who died.”

And just like that—I broke.

So I walked away. From the pack. From them.

But they came crawling back.

Begging me to stay.

To forgive.

To forget.

--

Brianna's POV

"Brianna, are you really sure about divorcing Alpha Marcus?"

Elder Saska's voice crackled over the phone, thick with unease.

"Lucas is still a youngling. He needs you."

I stood alone in the crumbling old kitchen, the heavy scent of witch fire clinging to the air as the kettle screamed on the stove. One hand pressed against the cold marble counter, grounding me.

"I mated Marcus because of the Oath Pact," I said quietly.

"Because you asked me to."

My eyes stung. I blinked the feeling away.

"Lucas is five now. He can grow without me. I’ve fulfilled my duty."

And I had. Hadn’t I?

Five years ago, Elder Saska had pulled me from the ruins of my childhood, after the rogue massacre destroyed my home. She raised me like one of her own when no one else would. When my sister died, it was Elder Saska who brokered the Oath Pact that bound me to Marcus — five years of service as Luna, five years of motherhood to a broken boy who would never see me as family, five years of swallowing my voice until I forgot what it sounded like.

But tomorrow... the Oath expired.

I could leave.

And this time, no one could stop me.

Before she could answer, a sharp crack echoed through the kitchen.

I barely flinched before a stone, still humming with residual lunar energy, slammed against the window and bounced off, striking me square on the forehead.

Pain bloomed bright and hot.

I stumbled back, clutching my brow, warm blood trickling down my temple. My heart hammered in my chest as I turned toward the shattered window.

And there he was.

Lucas.

His arms crossed.

His expression is carved from stone.

"Snitching to the elders again?" he sneered, voice far too sharp, far too cruel for such a small body. "Didn’t you learn anything from last time? Maybe I should bury you myself. Send you back to the ground to keep my mom company."

I stood frozen. The blood dripped, warm and thick against my cheek.

Memories flashed — my birthday earlier that day.

The simple dress. My sister's old ceremonial dress.

I'd worn it without thinking, craving even a moment of feeling beautiful again.

But Lucas had seen.

And he had snapped.

He'd stormed into my celebration, and dragged the cursed ink across my birthday cake, spelling RIP in jagged black letters. Thrown death lilies — sacred flowers of mourning — on top.

Then, in front of the entire pack, he shoved it into my face.

Laughter had rippled through the crowd.

Alpha Marcus had said nothing.

I hadn't screamed. I hadn't shifted. I hadn’t cried.

I just left.

But Lucas wasn't done.

He had followed me here, his tail bristling, his voice a lash.

"What, no tears? You think you’re strong now?" he spat. "You’re pathetic. The first thing I’m doing when I become Alpha is throwing you out. You don’t belong here."

I looked at him then — looked.

The boy I had fed, clothed, rocked to sleep during his night terrors.

The boy I had defended against cruel pack whispers.

The boy I had loved.

And all I felt now was... exhaustion.

"You won’t have to," I said, my voice soft and laid bare. "I’m leaving tomorrow."

I turned my back on him and pressed a cloth to the gash on my forehead, trying to steady my breathing.

That's when I heard it — the sharp, unmistakable sound of glass shattering upstairs.

Panic punched the air from my lungs. I raced up the stairs, blood thundering in my ears.

The door to my room hung open.

Inside, devastation.

The jade moon bracelet — my mother's final gift to me before she died shielding me during the Earthquake Moon — lay shattered across the floor.

I fell to my knees.

The pieces dug into my palms as I gathered them, trembling.

That bracelet had survived everything — death, war, famine — when nothing else had.

It was the last proof that someone, once, had loved me enough to die for me.

I cradled the fragments to my chest, and for the first time in years, I broke.

Silent, wracking sobs tore through me.

Behind me, a cold voice said, "Hurts, doesn’t it?"

I turned. Jayden leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.

A cruel glint in his eye.

"Now you know how it feels," he said, his voice a whip of hatred. "You took my mom from me, murderer. I’m going to destroy everything you love."

Something inside me — the last fragile piece — snapped.

I stood on shaking legs, crossed the room in two strides, and seized his small wrist.

"Pick up every shard," I said, low and dangerous. "Now."

For a flicker of a second, fear flashed in his young eyes.

Then Marcus burst in.

Without hesitation, he shoved me away. Hard.

I hit the ground, the breath knocked from my body.

"What the heck is wrong with you?" Marcus roared, fangs gleaming beneath his lip. "It’s just a bracelet! You’re losing it over a trinket?"

I looked up at the male I had once been bound to.

The male I had once dreamed might, someday, choose me for real.

To him, it was just broken glass.

But to me, it was the last piece of my mother.

The last piece of myself.

Marcus must have sensed the shift in the air. He shoved Jayden out of the room and slammed the door behind him.

Then — in a cruel, familiar pattern — he softened.

He crossed to me, knelt, and lifted me as if I weighed nothing.

Laid me on the bed.

Brushed the hair from my forehead with a gentleness I no longer believed in.

"I thought you were stronger than this," he murmured against my temple. "You owe Lucas an apology."

His hand slid to the buttons of my blouse, a sick mockery of tenderness.

"It’s your birthday," he whispered. "Let me make it up to you. Call it a reward... for everything you’ve done."

I froze.

Not out of fear.

Out of something colder.

Something final.

I caught his wrist.

And I moved it away.

Sat up, spine straight as steel.

"No, Marcus," I said, my voice calm and sharp as a blade.

"I want a divorce."

Chapter 2

“Lucas throws tantrums, and now you too?”

Marcus’s voice was a low growl, his frustration crackling like static in the air. His golden eyes gleamed with irritation under the pale moonlight filtering through the packhouse window.

“He’s just a pup, Brianna. But you? You’re an adult. Why can’t you try to understand him? He’ll get it one day, once his wolf matures.”

I stared at him, my pulse echoing in my ears louder than the ticking of the clock. The air in the room was heavy with the lingering scent of cedarwood and tension.

“I’m tired, Marcus,” I said quietly, rubbing my temple. “I’m tired from working the border shift all day, from covering for your absence, from holding together a pack that barely sees me. Stop adding to the weight on my back. I don’t have the energy to deal with you too.”

What I wanted to say was simpler than that.

I don’t need you to fix anything, Marcus. I just need you to listen.

But to Marcus, everything I said came out like a complaint.

His jaw tightened. The heat in his eyes cooled. The flicker of desire he once had for me vanished in a blink.

“I’ve got patrol reports to finish,” he muttered, stepping away. Then, coldly, “I’m not sleeping with you tonight.”

The door slammed behind him.

I didn’t even bother counting how many times he’d left like that when I was too emotional, too human, too not her. At this point, I was just a convenience. A she-wolf with no rank, no real claim to the Alpha’s heart. Present when he wanted warmth and forgotten when he didn’t.

But tonight, something inside me broke quietly.

I spent hours at the wooden kitchen table, hunched over the broken pieces of my mother’s bracelet, a jade heirloom passed through generations of women in our bloodline. Jade doesn’t mend easily. But I tried anyway, with trembling fingers, cheap superglue, and an old prayer whispered to the Moon Goddess.

By the time I looked outside, dawn had broken.

A message blinked on my phone. It was from Elder Saska.

‘Come by the cottage. We need to talk.’

Elder Saska sat waiting when I arrived, wrapped in a shawl that smelled faintly of sage and smoke. The elder’s eyes were sharp despite the weariness in her voice.

“I heard what happened,” she said softly. “Lucas’s like his father — stubborn, untamed, painfully proud. But you raised him, Brianna. There must be a part of him that still remembers the she-wolf who kissed his scraped knees and sang lullabies during storms.”

I kept quiet.

“Are you ready to walk away from the pack you helped hold together? From the boy, you raised like your own? From the mate bond, even if it’s one-sided?”

I didn’t answer. Could you still call it a family when the love was gone? When every howl from Lucas’s throat was filled with hate? When every gaze from Marcus was filled with longing for a ghost?

My sister Kaela had been the Luna. Marcus’s fated mate. The kind of bond legends are built around. They’d grown up together, howling under the same moons, running through the wild pines side by side. But then came the rogue attack, and with it, her death. Five years ago, Kaela’s light was snuffed out in one night. And with her went half of Marcus’s soul.

He became hollow. Distant. Barely Alpha.

Elder Saska had come to me with desperation in her eyes and grief still fresh in her heart.

“Help us, help the pack,” she’d said. “Raise the boy. Be Luna. Heal what’s broken.”

And like a fool, I tried.

Five years of sacrifice. I gave everything — my heart, my wolf, my pride. I raised Lucas like he was my own blood. I stayed even when Marcus couldn’t look at me without seeing her shadow. I endured the whispers, the gossip, the subtle rejection of a pack that never truly accepted me.

But I was never Luna. I was just... temporary.

Even Lucas hated me. With every cruel word whispered to him by pack members loyal to Kaela’s memory, he grew colder. Colder until even my cooking, a language we once shared, meant nothing.

Eventually, Elder Saska stopped trying to convince me to stay. Instead, she slid divorce papers across the table.

“When you sign, you’re free,” she said.

And for the first time in years, I felt... relief.

I signed.

When I got home, the forest was already dark. I tried the door, but the lock had been changed. Confused, I knocked softly, hoping for a mistake.

Then Lucas opened the door, his young face twisted with disgust. “Oh. Look who finally decided to come back. Why didn’t you just drop dead somewhere? Would’ve saved us the trouble.”

My stomach twisted.

He was angry that I hadn't cooked today. The boy had a sensitive gut and only trusted my cooking. I’d once taken culinary classes just to make meals that wouldn’t upset his stomach. He used to say,

“Mommy, you’re the best chef in the world. I wanna eat your food forever.”

Now he looked at me like I was the enemy.

Thunder cracked. Rain poured down. I stood soaked, shivering on the porch.

“Lucas,” I whispered, “can I please come inside? I’ll get sick out here.”

He sneered. “So? You wanted to leave so bad, go ahead. Stay out.”

Then I heard her voice.

“Lucas, who are you talking to?”

Ava Blackthorn stepped into view — all curves, perfume, and poison. She draped her arms around Lucas like she owned him, like she belonged.

When she saw me, she smirked. “Oh, it’s you.”

She tilted her head, mock sympathy dripping from her voice. “Sorry, sweetheart. Marcus's spending the night with me tonight. Guess you’ll have to howl at the moon alone.”

She turned, her heels clicking like a countdown to the end of everything.

“Come on, Lucas. Dinner’s ready. Your dad’s waiting.”

Lucas smiled up at her. “Yay! You’re the best, Aunt Ava!”

As they vanished into the warmth of the house, the door slammed shut once more.

And just like that, I was outside.

Alone.

Chapter 3

I watched them disappear inside the pack house, their silhouettes brushing as they walked in sync. My chest aches—deep, primal.

The boy I’d raised, the young wolf I nurtured with every ounce of my soul, couldn’t see beyond the blood in his veins. Instead, he clung to a wolf Marcus dragged home, just because she resembles Kaela.

The storm grew worse, thunder echoing like a growl in the heavens. No cab would come this far into the woods. So I curled up near the wrought-iron gates of the Alpha's estate, drenched and shivering like a rogue left to rot. My wolf whimpered inside me, but I kept her caged.

Just when I thought I’d freeze through the night, the den doors creaked open. One of the Omega servants stepped out, holding an umbrella.

“Luna Brianna,” she said softly. “Alpha Marcus says you may come in.”

My limbs were numb, and my instincts dulled, but I nodded and followed her inside.

The warmth hit me like a slap. Lucas, my pup—not by blood but by bond—lay curled in Ava’s lap in front of the hearth.

Marcus was slicing through blood oranges beside them, a casual domesticity they’d never shown me.

I turned to go upstairs, but Marcus’s voice cut through the silence like claws on bone.

“You know Lucas's stomach can only handle the food you cook. From now on, don’t be gone longer than an hour.”

I gave him a tired smile, fangs just barely showing.

“Then maybe you should find someone who can replicate the recipe. Or teach Miss Ava Blackthorn herself. I wrote everything down. We’ll be divorced soon anyway, remember?”

The fruit knife clanged against the stone plate, sharp and deliberate.

“Brianna,” he growled, stepping forward with Alpha force.

“Have I been too lenient? Is that why you speak to me this way?” His grip on my wrist tightened, leaving a bruise my wolf growled at from within. “You think I won’t mark the end of this bond?”

Of course, he would. He never chose me. I was just the packmate who stepped in after Kaela’s death, for Lucas’s sake. Not his.

I met his eyes, unflinching. “Then ask Lucas if he even wants me around. Ask your son.”

As if summoned by a curse, Lucas's voice cut through the room, venom laced with a wolf’s snarl.

“Dad, I’ve wanted you to leave her for years. I hate her. I like Aunt Ava better.”

Ava quickly pressed a hand to his mouth, feigning shock.

“Lucas, sweetheart, you can’t say that. You’ll hurt your mother.”

But her eyes shone—triumphant.

“She’s not my mother!” Lucas shouted, twisting out of her grasp. “I don’t want a murderer as my mother!”

Murderer.

That word still echoed in my bones from the night I’d ripped through the rogue who nearly killed him—the same rogue Jayden now believes I wrongfully slaughtered.

I looked at Marcus and said flatly,

“There. He’s made it clear. He doesn't want me around. Can we finally get divorced now?”

Marcus’s expression darkened. He turned to Ava. “Take Lucas downstairs.”

She hesitated. The disappointment was palpable. But she obeyed, leading the boy away like he was already hers.

“Why don’t you make her Luna, Marcus?” I asked. “You both want her. I’m tired of carrying this title alone.”

“You’re so quick to throw me to another she-wolf?” His voice was low, dangerous.

I blinked. What on earth is he even talking about?

What did he expect? He’d never shown affection. His heart was buried with Kaela. Ava was just the next ghost to cling to.

But then his expression twisted. He barked over his shoulder,

“Ava. Come back.”

She reappeared, confused. And before she could say a word, he grabbed her wrist, dragging her toward the Alpha’s room.

“You want to see us together, Brianna? Fine. Watch how quickly I replace you.”

He shoved her into the bedroom and slammed the door behind them.

A few moments later, the noises began.

I felt... nothing.

I’d never come here for love. Only to repay a debt to the pack, to Elder Saska. I never let my heart, or my wolf, get too close. Kaela was always his mate, even in death. And now Ava, who looked and smelled like Kaela, had become his second chance.

He should be thrilled.

He should be celebrating.

I checked the time.

My flight out of the territory left soon.

I slid the divorce papers under his door, picked up my travel bag, and descended the stairs in silence.

But just as I reached the front entrance, Lucas blocked the door. His eyes gleamed amber. Shifted.

He kicked my bag over with a feral snarl.

“What? A little drama and now you're leaving? You think Dad will come chasing after you like some romance story? You're pathetic.”

I said nothing. I picked up my bag, calm as a full moon night.

Then he moved.

Lucas lunged, grabbing the same fruit knife from the table, fangs peeking out, the boy not fully in control of his wolf.

And this time, he aimed for the kill.

Right at my chest.