Filed to story: The Lycan's Savage Luna (Wren Tristan & Killian) Book PDF Free
“The life Wren has should have been yours.”
Alpha Remus Vale, Wren’s father, was supposed to be Yuna’s mate. But he’d betrayed her, choosing her younger sister, Luna Evelyn, instead.
Heartbroken and deceived, Yuna had fallen straight into Carden’s claws.
“If it weren’t for that twist of fate,” Yuna said, “you’d be Alpha Remus’s daughter. You’d live like a princess in Moonvale.”
Celestine was too young to understand what that meant-until the night Carden came home drunk again. He lashed out, fists flying, fangs flashing. Her mother shielded her, taking blow after blow, until blood covered the walls.
In the chaos, Yuna pushed her daughter out the door.
“Run to Moonvale!” she ordered. “Go to your aunt-they’ll help!”
Celestine staggered through the storm, half-conscious, until she reached the grand gates of the Moonvale Pack. Through the silver rain, she saw Alpha Remus and Luna Evelyn standing under the porch, calling their pups home.
Fenrir and Lykos were laughing as they tried to cheer up a sulking little Wren, who was angry because her brother had picked her moonflower.
Celestine stood there, soaked in blood, head throbbing, watching a family whole and radiant.
And Wren-so clean, so loved-was crying over a flower.
How absurd.
She had crawled out of a pit of pain, and yet her cousin wept over something so small.
That day, jealousy took root in her bones like frost.
When Luna Evelyn and Alpha Remus saw her, their smiles froze. Even though they hadn’t meant harm to Yuna, guilt still clawed at them. They acted fast-tore Carden from her life, cast him into the rogues’ prison, and sent Yuna enough silver to rebuild.
When Yuna returned to her mother’s den, the first thing she did was strip Celestine of her father’s name.
She became Celestine Ward.
A declaration to the world-Yuna’s daughter, not his.
Life grew easier after that.
Back in the Ward family’s care, she no longer feared hunger or beatings. She and her mother often visited the Moonvale Pack again.
Celestine told her mother once that she hated those visits, hated how small she felt beside Wren’s brilliance.
Her mother only stroked her hair and whispered,
“What your cousin has, you’ll have too. What she took from me, I’ll take back for you.”
Not long before her death, Yuna’s eyes had changed.
Her voice turned strange, filled with a calm that felt like farewell.
She would murmur to herself under the moonlight,
“My daughter will live better than hers. What Moonvale owes me will be repaid-one way or another.”
Celestine never doubted her mother’s love.
Yuna Ward had given everything-her blood, her sanity, her life-for her daughter.
And now, standing before her mother’s grave in the endless rain, Celestine’s voice trembled, low and almost reverent.
“I used to envy you, Wren,” she said again.
“But now I wonder-if you’d lived my life, would you still be able to shine?”
Third Person’s POV
Rain veiled the mountains like a mourning shroud.
“Do you think,” Celestine murmured, her lips curving, “that I stole your home?”
Her voice was smooth, silken, the kind that hid barbs. “But it was mine all along. I simply reclaimed what should have been mine by birthright.”
Wren’s wolf stirred beneath her skin, silver eyes flickering with light. “What do you mean?” she asked quietly, though the growl beneath her words betrayed her restraint.
Celestine did not answer at once. Instead, she looked toward the road where the Moonvale brothers-Fenrir and Lykos-were climbing the slope to meet them, rain pouring off their shoulders like molten steel.
“Same blood,” Celestine continued softly. “But our mothers’ fates were worlds apart. And that difference will only grow wider with time.” Her lips curved, serene and cruel. “You’re lucky, Wren. Even at the end, Grandmother still favored you.”
Her gaze sharpened, voice dropping into a whisper laced with venom. “Do you know what her last words were before she died?”
Wren’s heart thudded once. The air tightened.
Celestine smiled through the rain, baring her teeth. “She said-‘Save me.'”
The words landed like a strike. Wren’s vision flared red. In the downpour’s roar, her control snapped. She lunged, claws flashing pale through the rain, fingers closing around Celestine’s throat.
“You killed her,” she hissed.
Celestine choked for air, yet laughter bubbled between her gasps. “Killed her? No, Wren. I merely didn’t save her. Why should I have? She shielded you, not me. Always you.” Her lips trembled into a snarl. “It’s your fault she died. If you hadn’t clung to her, depended on her, she wouldn’t have burned herself out protecting you!”
Wren’s eyes burned silver, the mark of her bloodline flaring along her wrists. “She loved you too. When our parents returned to Moonvale, it was Grandmother who stood between us and that monster, Carden Voss. You were never the unloved one-“
Celestine spat a bitter laugh. “That’s your delusion. From the day I changed my name, I swore the world would never treat you and me differently again.”
Her breath came in ragged bursts. Wren’s grip tightened, rain mixing with tears on both their faces.
Then-“Wren!”
Lykos’s shout cut through the storm. In an instant, he shoved his real sister back. Wren’s body struck the marble edge of Yuna Ward’s grave. Pain splintered through her spine, but she didn’t cry out.
Fenrir caught Celestine as she sagged, cradling her limp form. Without a glance toward Wren, he gathered her into his arms and strode down the slope toward the waiting cars.
Lykos hesitated at the ridge, torn between bloodlines. The rain lashed harder, stinging his eyes. After a breath, he turned-shielding Fenrir and Celestine with his umbrella as they disappeared into the downpour, his own back soaked through.
From Fenrir’s arms, a flicker of motion-Celestine looked over Fenrir’s shoulder. Through the veil of rain, she saw Wren standing alone among the graves, drenched and shaking, her hair matted to her skin like a forgotten ghost of the Vale line.
For one strange moment, Celestine felt as though the world had inverted-she, the once-shadowed girl, was now the chosen one.
Mother, you’d be proud, she thought faintly, and smiled without sound.
Below, at the gates of Moonvale.
Luna Evelyn hurried forward as Fenrir and Lykos approached, Celestine limp in Fenrir’s arms.
“Where’s Wren?” she demanded.
Fenrir’s voice was ice. “Leave her. She needs to reflect.”
Luna hesitated. But Celestine’s soft groan pulled her attention-pain, faint but deliberate. She steeled herself. “Then let’s go. To the healer.”
Alpha Remus lingered last. His gaze lifted up the slope where a lone figure stood against the rain, small and unmoving before Yuna’s tomb. His jaw clenched, but he said nothing.
“Let’s go,” he muttered finally.
The Moonvale cars sped away through the storm. The world fell silent, save for the pounding rain and one heartbeat-Wren’s.
She stood before the tombstone, staring at her grandmother’s serene smile etched in stone. The rain stung her skin, cold as judgment.
“Is this my punishment?” she whispered hoarsely. “But Grandmother… you were theirs too. Why?”
Her voice broke. “If I give you my life, will it make it right?”
Her body shivered violently, heat and chill warring beneath her skin. Her wolf keened somewhere deep within, lost, unanchored-adrift like a leaf on dark water. She swayed, vision swimming, and at last her knees buckled.
Before she could fall, a shadow moved-a large black umbrella unfolding above her, a strong arm catching her as she collapsed.
The scent hit her first: smoke, storm, and Alpha dominance.
“Easy,” his voice murmured, deep and steady as thunder. “Wren Vale. You’re safe. You’re coming home.”
Rain slicked the sharp lines of his face, softening the usual edge of his power. In the reflection of his silver eyes, the moon burned like fire through the storm clouds. Wren’s lashes fluttered once before she went still, surrendering to the warmth of his hold.
Third Person’s POV
At the Blackwood Pack.
Tristan had been restless since dawn. His wolf had sensed something wrong long before his mind caught up-an ache that pulsed beneath his skin, raw and wild, like a storm trapped inside his chest. He had paced the marble floors of the Alpha’s hall for nearly an hour, claws threatening to breach, before he finally gave in.
He snatched his car keys from the counter and strode toward the door. Even if Wren had tried to anger him the last time they met-leading her neighbors to nearly hand him to the human enforcers-today of all days, he couldn’t stay away. No matter what had come between them, she shouldn’t be alone. Not on this day.
Just as he reached the threshold, a thought struck him. He turned back, crossed to his study, and opened the drawer. Inside lay a small box wrapped in dark velvet. Within it-a pendant of silver and moonstone, shaped like a fang-his gift for her.
For years, since the death of Luna Yuna Ward, the Moonvale wolves had forbidden mention of Wren’s birthday. It fell on the same night the Luna was lost, and mourning had devoured celebration. But Tristan had never obeyed such silence. Every year, he had found a way to steal Wren out under the moonlight-to make her laugh, to remind her she was alive.
The last two years he had failed her. Because of Celestine. Because duty had kept him chained elsewhere.
This year, he swore he wouldn’t fail again.
But the moment he reached the entryway, his mother appeared-Lady Blackwood, regal as frost and twice as sharp. She blocked his path, eyes like pale silver blades. “Where are you going in this weather?”
