Their Forgotten Luna

When loyalty gets tested

Dominic:

“Dane.”

His name cut across the clearing, sharp and final. He froze mid-step, half-swallowed by the night’s shadow, before turning back toward me. His eyes burned like wildfire—half grief, half rage. His chest heaved, each breath dragging out of him like it cost too much to draw.

“This ends here,” I said, my voice low but carrying. “Whatever you think you had with her, whatever you’re still chasing—it doesn’t give you the right to take from her. Not her memory. Not her choice.”

His lip curled, fists clenching so tightly his knuckles went pale. “Force it? You arrogant bastard. I don’t have to force anything. She was mine before you ever breathed her name.”

I took a step closer, meeting his glare without flinching. “You think the past permits you now? You think memory outweighs choice?”

His shoulders rose and fell hard, trembling with a fury that looked too much like heartbreak. His voice cracked when he spat, “Don’t talk to me about choice when she can’t remember what we were. What we are. Do you know what it’s like to look into her eyes and see nothing? To hear her say my name like I’m a stranger? You don’t. You couldn’t.”

I didn’t let his pain shake me. Pain didn’t justify crossing lines.

“I don’t pretend to know what you lost,” I said, voice steady as stone. “I won’t pretend to know what it’s like to live with your decisions from that night. But I know what I won’t let you do—steal what she hasn’t given. A kiss taken in desperation isn’t love. It’s theft, Dane.”

His voice broke into a growl. “Don’t lecture me about love. You don’t love her more than I do.”

My jaw tightened. “You have no idea about my feelings. You have no idea about my love.” My tone hardened, cutting through the night. “I love her differently. Enough to stand where she’s asked me to. Enough to let her breathe. Enough to let her choose—even if that choice isn’t me one day.”

The fury in his eyes faltered for the briefest second. I pressed harder, sharp as a blade.

“You knew her. But knowing isn’t owning. She’s not a memory for you to drag back into the present. She’s here. Now. And she chose me. So did the Goddess.”

The silence that followed was tense, every breath pulled tight. I could see the wolf in him pacing behind his skin, desperate for a fight. But I stood my ground. Not possessive. Not domineering. Just resolute.

“She doesn’t need chains,” I said, softer now but no less firm. “She needs freedom. And she finds it with me.”

Dane:

His words gutted me worse than claws. That calm—the certainty in his voice—wasn’t arrogance. It was faith. Faith she’d chosen him, faith she’d keep choosing him, even as I stood here bleeding out on the inside.

“You stand there, acting like her guardian,” I spat, my voice rough, raw. “But you’re not protecting her—you’re walling her in. You’re so busy being her shield that you’re blind to the parts of her that don’t fit with you.”

His gaze didn’t waver. “What doesn’t fit with me is your inability to accept her choice.”

Choice. The word burned like silver in my veins. I barked a laugh that sounded nothing like humor.

“Her choice? You mean the one made while half her memories are gone? While she can’t even see me for who I was to her?”

My wolf clawed inside me, desperate to break free. “She doesn’t remember the nights I carried her when she couldn’t stand, the vows I swore, the blood I gave to keep her safe. She doesn’t remember the way she used to look at me—like I was her whole damn world. And you call that fair? You call that a choice?”

For a heartbeat, I thought I saw something in his eyes—understanding. But it wasn’t pity. It was worse: conviction.

“You think I’m here to rob her?” My voice shook, fury eating me alive. “No. I’m here to remind her who she was before you ever touched her. To remind her who we were.”

“And what if she remembers,” he asked quietly, voice like a knife in the dark, “and still chooses me?”

The words hollowed me out. My wolf faltered, then roared back, savage and wild. “Then I am a fool,” I snapped. “But don’t think I’ll stop fighting for her for a second. You might wear her bond, Dominic, but I wore her heart first.”

He didn’t flinch. His golden eyes burned, unshaken, unbreakable. “Then you’d better pray that heart still wants you. Because until she says otherwise, I’ll be here. And I don’t break.”

His certainty was unbearable. It was like he’d planted himself into the earth itself—immovable, untouchable, a wall I couldn’t tear down no matter how I struck.

I wanted to rip it from him. To drag his faith into the dirt where mine had been shattered. To see him crumble the way I had.

But then my gaze slid to Cierra. Wide eyes. Trembling lips. Her hand was hovering close to her chest, like she was holding her heart together against the force of us both tearing at it.

The sight of her broke me more than his words ever could.

If I crossed that line again—if I touched her without her giving it freely—I’d lose her forever.

So I turned. My fists trembled at my sides, my teeth grinding together until my jaw ached. Each step away stripped another piece of me raw. The dark swallowed me, but the fire in my chest only burned brighter.

I wasn’t finished. Not yet. Not ever. Not until I have her.