Their Forgotten Luna

Sibling Rivalry

Cierra:

For one long, suffocating breath, I thought Dane would walk away.

What a stupid thought. Instead, he stepped into me.

“Cierra, please,” his hand slid to my jaw, then to my cheek, the rough warmth froze me in my spot. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t breathe. “Are you really going to tell me you don’t remember any of the nights we shared together talking and laughing?” I looked into those auburn eyes, and my chest caved in.

“I don’t,” I admitted.

“Maybe you will remember this then,” he kissed me with such an urgency I thought I might erupt. One hand on my face, one on my waist, and the caving of my chest turned to molten lava, hot and aroused at the way his tongue roughly slid over mine.

“That’s enough, Dane.” I felt the alpha command in Dom’s voice, and I realized what we had done, shoving Dane away as he smiled, smirked, actually, knowing damn well what he had just done.

The moment wrapped around me like a slow carcinogen, stealing what little air was left in my lungs.

Dom stalked forward, shoulders squared, eyes blazing. “You had no right to touch her.”

“No right?” Dane’s laugh was hollow, bitter. “Maybe you’ve forgotten, brother, but she isn’t yours.”

“Try me.” Dom’s tone was thunder.

I pressed my hands against my thighs to keep them from shaking. My lungs burned as if I’d run a mile, but this wasn’t my fight—I couldn’t even find the words to stop it. My body trembled, but I forced myself to stand straighter, to at least look composed while my insides shattered.

Dane tilted his head, eyes narrowing with challenge. “You think, because you’ll be alpha, you can control everything? Even her? You don’t get to claim ownership over something you can’t protect.”

Dom’s growl rumbled from deep in his chest. “I don’t own her, Dane. But I won’t let you use her to hurt me.”

“Hurt you?” Dane spat, fury rippling through every line of him. “Maybe you’ve forgotten who’s been here for her when you weren’t. Maybe you’ve forgotten who she trusted first.”

Before I could breathe, Dom surged forward. His fist caught Dane’s jaw with a crack that reverberated through the hallway. Dane staggered, then snapped back with a feral snarl, swinging hard. Dom ducked, countered with a brutal punch to his ribs.

The fight exploded, raw and savage.

Bodies slammed into the wall with bone-jarring force. Fists flew, teeth bared, their movements nothing short of primal. Dane caught Dom’s shoulder, slamming him backward into the doorframe, wood splintering beneath the impact. Dom’s hand tangled in Dane’s shirt, dragging him down, fist hammering into his stomach.

The air turned thick with grunts, snarls, and the copper tang of blood.

“Stop it!” My voice cracked, but neither of them listened. Dane shoved Dom off, lip split, and lunged again. Dom twisted, driving his elbow into Dane’s temple, but Dane didn’t fall. He grabbed Dom by the throat and pinned him against the wall, their faces inches apart, breath hot and ragged.

“You think you’re stronger because you were chosen?” Dane roared. “Because everyone bows to you?”

Dom’s eyes blazed, his voice hoarse but steady. “I don’t need anyone to bow—I’ll make them follow. That’s the difference between us.”

With a violent surge, Dom broke Dane’s grip, driving his knee up and twisting free. They collided again, fists colliding, bodies clashing with a sound that shook the floor.

I stumbled back, hands over my mouth, my composure unraveling thread by thread. Every strike landed against my bones as if I were the one being torn apart.

Finally, Dom forced Dane to the ground, pinning him with an arm pressed across his chest. His breath came in ragged bursts, his voice sharp enough to cut. “If you ever touch her like that again, brother, I’ll break more than your pride.”

Dane’s smile—bloodied, defiant—was a knife. “She kissed me back.”

My chest caved in, all the air ripped from me.

I stood frozen, trying desperately to stitch my composure back together, though my hands still trembled. My throat ached to speak, but no words came.

Because both of them were right.

And both of them were wrong.

Dom’s fist hovered, knuckles split and trembling, poised for one more strike that might shatter more than just Dane’s jaw. His chest heaved as if every breath was a battle, his eyes wild with rage and something else—hurt, sharp and unyielding.

Then his gaze flicked to me.

Just once.

I flinched beneath the weight of it, shame colliding with fear, with anger I didn’t know where to place. His jaw clenched. Without another word, he shoved Dane down and pushed away, chest still rising and falling like thunder.

The silence stretched as Dom stormed out, the slam of the door vibrating through my bones.

And then there was Dane.

Sprawled on the floor, blood trickling from his split lip, but smiling. Smiling like he’d won. His laugh was low, broken by a cough. “See? That’s the thing about your precious Dom. He talks about protecting you, about being strong enough for you. But when it really matters? He walks away.”

The smugness in his voice snapped the last thread holding me together.

I stepped closer, fists tight at my sides, my whole body shaking—not with desire, not with fear, but with fury. “Don’t you dare twist this, Dane.” My voice cracked, but it didn’t falter. “You don’t get to rewrite what just happened. You don’t get to kiss me without my permission and then pretend it meant something.”

His smirk faltered. Just slightly.

“You think you can use me to hurt him?” I went on, words spilling faster, sharper, hotter. “I’m not a weapon. I’m not a prize for you to claim or a wound for you to press salt into. I’m not yours, Dane. I was never yours.”

His eyes darkened, pride flickering into something rawer, uglier. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do.” I forced the words out, each one a blade I didn’t know I carried. “Whatever you thought we had before—it’s gone. I don’t remember it, and even if I did, it wouldn’t give you the right to touch me now. You crossed a line tonight, and I won’t forgive you for it.”

The room throbbed with silence, his shallow breaths scraping against mine. For a heartbeat, he looked like he might argue, might lunge, might laugh again. But then he pushed himself up off the floor, wiping blood from his lip with the back of his hand.

“You’ll remember,” he said softly, bitterly. “And when you do, you’ll realize it was me you chose before that damned rogue attack ruined everything.”

I shook my head, tears stinging hot and unwanted at the corners of my eyes. “The only thing I’ll remember about you is the way you let your ego control you today. That’s all you’ll ever be to me now.”

His smirk cracked for real this time. Just a ghost of what it had been. He swallowed whatever words lingered on his tongue, then turned and stalked out the same door Dom had left through, shoulders rigid, steps heavy.

And then—finally—I was alone.

Alone with the ragged sound of my breathing, with the trembling of my hands, with the truth that no matter how much I tried to hold myself together, the seams had split wide open.

The silence pressed in on me, heavy as stone. I pressed a shaking hand to my mouth, but it did nothing to hold back the sob building inside.

Dom.

My legs carried me before my mind caught up. I shoved the door open and stumbled into the hall, scanning frantically, searching for him like the air in my lungs depended on it—because it did. His broad back was already retreating down the corridor, his shoulders rigid, fists still clenched at his sides.

“Dom!” The word broke out of me, ragged, desperate. He didn’t stop.

I pushed harder, half running, the sting of tears blurring my vision. “Please—wait!” My voice cracked, too small in the echo of the hallway. He slowed, just barely, like he couldn’t help himself. That was all I needed. I closed the space between us, my chest heaving, heart clawing at my ribs.

When I finally reached him, the words tangled uselessly on my tongue. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out—only the hot spill of a tear slipping free, streaking down my cheek. The moment it fell, his body stilled.

Dom turned, and the fury in his face melted the second he saw me shaking, tears slipping faster now no matter how hard I tried to hold them back. I lifted my hands helplessly, trying to form the apology that refused to shape itself.

“I—I didn’t mean—” My voice fractured, breaking apart like glass.

Before I could shatter completely, he pulled me to him.

His arms banded around me, strong and certain, lifting me off my feet as if I weighed nothing. In one fluid motion, he sat on the bench against the wall, tugging me into his lap. I buried my face into his chest without hesitation, the sob finally ripping free as his hand cradled the back of my head, holding me there.

“Shh.” His voice was rough, low, but steady, the kind of sound that anchored me when everything else spun out of control. His heartbeat thudded against my ear, solid and unyielding. “Cierra, don’t. You don’t have to say anything right now.”

“But I—” I hiccuped, gripping the fabric of his shirt, shaking my head against him. “I should’ve stopped it sooner, I should’ve—”

“Stop.” His hand tightened on my waist, grounding me, his forehead pressing to the crown of my head. “He kissed you. You didn’t ask for it. You don’t ever have to apologize to me for something that wasn’t yours to control.”

His words sank into me like warmth against frost, thawing places I hadn’t realized were frozen. Still, guilt clawed at me. “But I—I didn’t push him away fast enough—”

Dom pulled back just enough to tip my chin up, forcing my tear-filled eyes to meet his. The rage was gone, replaced by something rawer, something that undid me even more—pain, yes, but devotion too, unshaken even now.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Cierra,” he said, voice hoarse. “I know who you are. I know where your heart is. And it isn’t with him.”

The words tore me open, undoing every defense I’d tried to keep. Another sob broke free, but this one melted into his chest as I curled closer, his arms wrapping tighter, his presence fierce and unmovable around me.

“I’m here,” Dom whispered into my hair, his breath trembling just slightly. “I’ll always be here. Nothing changes that.”

So I melted into him, into his warmth, into his safety, and I stayed there.