Their Forgotten Luna

The Outsider’s Rage

Dane:

I hadn’t meant to follow.

That was the lie I told myself as I stalked through the southern line, shadows catching on my boots, blood from the earlier fight still tacky across my knuckles. My wolf had been restless, snarling inside me, dragging me toward her. Always toward her.

I told myself I was just checking the perimeter. That I wasn’t chasing the sound of her laugh, or the scent of her fear, or the steady rhythm of Dominic’s growls wrapped around her like armor.

But then I saw them.

Cierra, her dagger slick with blood, chest heaving, standing in the ruins of three rogues like she was carved straight out of fire and defiance. And Dominic—gods, Dominic—pressed close to her side, his massive wolf form leaning in, muzzle brushing her wrist as if he’d earned the right to touch her. As if the intimacy was natural and inevitable.

The way she looked at him undid me.

Her lips parted, trembling not from fear but something softer. Her shoulders eased, the tension bleeding away: as if his presence was enough to steady her pulse. I knew that look. I’d dreamed of that look—directed at me, never at him.

My chest burned.

Jealousy wasn’t sharp at first. It was suffocating. It pressed against my ribs like an iron band, every breath shorter than the last. My wolf snarled, snapping at the sight, demanding I tear Dominic away from her. But I couldn’t move. Couldn’t look away.

She whispered something—too soft for me to hear—and Dominic leaned closer, brushing his fur against her arm, golden eyes fixed on her like she was the only thing that mattered in the world.

My fists clenched. I wanted to shout, I wanted to rip through the clearing and remind her she wasn’t his to hold. That she had been mine—had always been mine, whether she realized it or not.

But my voice betrayed me. It stayed locked behind my teeth, the only sound escaping a ragged breath I hadn’t meant to let slip.

Her head snapped up.

Her knife flew before I could blink, spinning through the trees and striking bark a breath from my chest. The air between us cracked, and for the first time, her eyes found mine.

Shock flashed across her face, then confusion. Relief.

But not the kind I wanted.

“Dane?” she whispered, breathless.

The sound of my name on her lips should have steadied me. Instead, it gutted me. Because she didn’t run to me, she didn’t even take a step. She stayed where she was—close to him.

Dominic moved instantly, shifting, his massive frame rippling down into human form. His bare chest rose and fell with controlled breaths, blood streaking across his skin like war paint. He didn’t glance at me—not once. All his attention stayed on her, his voice low and soft enough to make my wolf bristle.

“You’re safe,” he murmured, as if the words were a spell. “You did everything right.”

Her shoulders sagged. Her hand shook once, then steadied at his words. He caught her wrist—not to restrain, but to anchor her, his thumb brushing her pulse in a gesture so tender it made my throat ache.

I wanted to rip his hand away. To scream that she didn’t need him, that she never had.

But she leaned into it.

And I knew.

Knew that whatever place I had once held in her life was slipping through my fingers like ash.

Dominic finally looked up then, his eyes catching mine. Not with triumph. Not with mockery. But with a warning so quiet it felt like a knife pressed against my throat: she is not yours to claim.

I swallowed the growl clawing its way up my chest, forcing my hands to unclench before I tore the trees apart with my rage.

Cierra didn’t notice. She couldn’t. She was too wrapped up in Dominic’s steadiness, too caught in his gravity.

And I was left in the shadows, choking on the bitter taste of jealousy, while they stood together in a silence that shut me out completely.

Cierra:

“Dane?”

Relief caught in my throat at the sight of him, shadowed and rigid between the trees. For a moment, the fear of rogues, of my father’s scorn, of the hollow place where my wolf should be—all of it eased. He was alive. Still standing. Still here.

I didn’t question why he was watching us from the dark. I didn’t see the way his hands curled into fists or the burn in his eyes. I only saw my friend, my shield since childhood.

“You shouldn’t sneak up like that,” I breathed, tugging my dagger free from the bark where it had lodged. My fingers still shook faintly.

Dominic’s hand brushed mine, steadying. “You startled her,” he said, his tone even, but carrying weight I didn’t stop to measure.

Dane said nothing. His silence pressed against me, but I was too exhausted, too raw, to push into it.

I turned back to Dom, searching his golden gaze, the ground I always found there. “Did I—” My voice cracked. “Did I really do all right?”

His hand lifted, brushing a streak of blood from my cheek with his thumb. The gentleness unraveled me. “You did more than all right. You proved yourself, Cierra. No one can take that from you.”

Heat pricked at the backs of my eyes. I nodded quickly, swallowing it down, forcing my chin high before either of them could see me falter. “Good,” I whispered. “That’s good.”

I didn’t notice the storm in Dane’s eyes, or the way his jaw ticked with each word Dominic spoke. Didn’t notice the tension pulsing from him like heat off a blade.

Because I was too busy steadying my breath against Dom’s voice. Too busy letting the pride in his eyes knit me back together after years of being torn apart.

The silence stretched. Awkward, maybe, but I filled it with the relief of still being alive, of not collapsing under my father’s sneer. I turned toward the trees again, blade ready, and said, “We should keep moving. The others will need us.”

Dom nodded, staying close, his presence brushing against me like a promise.

Behind us, Dane followed, quiet as a shadow. I didn’t turn to look.

I didn’t see the way his gaze burned holes into the space where Dom’s hand had touched me.

I didn’t hear the ragged edge of his breathing.

I didn’t know that, for Dane, the battle hadn’t ended at all. It had only just begun.