CHAPTER 177: CHAPTER 177 THE RINGLESS LUNA RETURNS

Freya

After parting with Victoria outside Harris Garden, her words echoed in my mind: *"Fight for what is yours."* The question haunting me was whether Silvano still wanted to be mine—and after seeing him with my father, whether I still wanted him to be.

I drove toward the Shadow Pack estate, my thoughts churning. The sprawling mansion came into view through the ancient pines that had protected generations of our pack. Once, the sight had filled me with pride. Now, it twisted my stomach with anxiety.

As I parked and approached the grand entrance, I caught sight of Elder Emma Wilson through the window. She was the former human mate of the late Beta Tiny, and Luna Victoria’s best friend. After Silvano and I were mated, I had always called her Aunt Emma. Humans tend to age faster than us, but she was forever full of passion and vitality, which earned her the respect of the pack.

What she was even more famous for was her insatiable curiosity. I watched as her eyes narrowed, scrutinizing me.

"Freya—" she began, clearly ready to lecture me about my absence.

"Mom’s here!" Isabella’s voice rang through the marble foyer as she rushed down from the second floor. My heart clenched at the sight of her—my beautiful girl with Silvano’s dark hair and my gray eyes. It had been over two weeks since we’d last seen each other.

She launched herself into my arms, nearly knocking me backward. "Mom!"

Something inside me broke and mended simultaneously. Selene howled with joy as I wrapped my arms around our pup, inhaling her scent.

"My little wolf," I whispered against her hair, unable to say more as emotion clogged my throat.

Aunt Emma’s stern expression softened as she watched our reunion. "Isabella has been quite insistent that we needed you here today."

Isabella pulled back, her eyes bright. "Mag, will you make tea for Grandma Emma? No one does it like you do."

"Mag" was her childhood nickname for me, coined when she couldn’t pronounce "Mama." Hearing it again made my chest ache.

I’d learned the traditional wolf tea ceremony as part of my Luna training—one of the few areas where even Aurora couldn’t find fault with my skills. The careful, meditative practice had always centered me.

"Of course," I replied gently, stroking Isabella’s cheek. "But it’s almost dinner time..."

Maria, Silvano’s aunt and our pack’s social coordinator, appeared from the dining room. "Yes, we’ll be starting dinner soon when Silvano and York return from the border patrol." She barely acknowledged my presence—a clear indication of where her loyalties lay.

As if summoned by her words, the front door opened, and Silvano entered.

He greeted Aunt Emma first, then Stella, the pack’s head housekeeper, both with proper respect. When his gaze finally landed on me, it was a fleeting thing—there and gone like a shooting star, his expression unreadable.

Isabella immediately abandoned my embrace, running to him. "Dad!"

He caught her with ease, his face softening in a way it never did for me anymore. "Little wolf," he murmured, the nickname a mirror of my own for her. His eyes continued scanning the room, and I knew he was looking for Aurora.

York, Maria’s son, bounded in moments later. Still in his late teens, he had all the energy and exuberance of youth. He vaulted over the sofa with casual grace, landing on the cushions.

"Were you all waiting for me?" he asked with a grin that was pure charm.

Maria cuffed him playfully on the head. "Yes, we’ve been starving waiting for you, pup!"

The dynamics were clear to anyone watching. Silvano was the strong, silent Alpha—the rock upon which the pack was built. Maria was quick-tempered but equally quick to laugh. York was the joy of the pack, beloved by all, his presence easing tensions wherever he went.

Even Stella’s perpetually cold expression thawed slightly at his arrival, and Aunt Emma visibly brightened. Noticing the hour and sensing everyone’s hunger, she ordered dinner to be served.

With just nine of us present, we moved to the smaller dining room rather than the formal hall used for pack gatherings. I immediately noticed the seating arrangement—Aunt Emma had positioned Silvano, Isabella, and me together. A clear attempt at reconciliation.

"Bella," the Aunt Emma smiled, "switch seats with your father. Let your parents sit together."

I caught Maria’s eye roll. After my relationship with Silvano hit rock bottom, his family’s attitude towards me had changed 180 degrees. Though Silvano clearly disliked Aunt Emma’s meddling, he wouldn’t challenge her openly on such a small matter.

"It’s fine, Aunt Emma," I said softly, offering her a gentle smile. "Let’s stay as we are." I wouldn’t force my presence on a mate who clearly didn’t want it.

Aunt Emma looked momentarily defeated. In her eyes, I knew, I was too passive, too accommodating with Silvano. She believed I’d wasted countless opportunities over the years to assert myself as Luna.

As dinner began, conversation flowed around me like water around a stone. I remained quiet, head down, focusing on my food while Selene curled defensively within me. More than ten minutes passed without Silvano and me exchanging a single word—not even the basic courtesy of acknowledging each other’s presence.

This was our normal now. Everyone at the table had grown accustomed to it, no longer finding it unusual—a sad testament to how far we’d fallen.

Isabella, I noticed, now habitually turned to Silvano when she wanted something, rather than to me. The change had happened gradually after I’d stopped calling every day, stopped fighting so hard for her attention.

But when the server brought out a platter of large shrimp—her favorite—Isabella’s eyes flickered toward me. In better days, I would always peel shrimp for both her and Silvano, removing the shells with practiced precision that neither of them could match.

"Mom," she said, her voice carrying a note of our old familiarity, "can you peel the shrimp for me? Dad always leaves bits of shell."

My heart swelled at this small request—this tiny acknowledgment that there were still things she needed me for. Selene perked up, eager to provide for our pup.

"Of course, little wolf." I reached for her plate, our fingers brushing. The familiar motion of cleaning the shrimp for her—careful, methodical—felt like coming home.

As I worked, I could feel Silvano’s eyes on me. Through our bond, I sensed a flicker of... something. Not quite longing, but recognition. A memory of countless meals where I’d performed this same service for him.