My Alpha Chose My Sister for the Moon Hunt—So His Four Rivals Chose Me

At the Moon Hunt team announcement, I stood beside Nolan Pierce with the route map I had spent two years building for him.

He had promised that once the roster was called, he would finally name me as his mate.

Instead, he called Brielle—my older sister.

Then he handed her my map.

When I stepped forward, Nolan blocked me with one arm.

“No Alpha team can afford to carry an Omega through the mountains.”

Brielle smiled while her fingers covered the compass notes only I used.

That was when I understood this was not a mistake.

He had chosen her, and he expected me to keep helping anyway.

Before I could leave, four Ravenscar Alpha captains crossed the floor.

Cassian Vale placed a black team band in my palm.

“We know who drew that route.”

I pulled off my Silvercrest practice band and let him fasten Ravenscar's around my wrist.

Nolan caught my hand.

“You're not going with them.”

I pulled free.

“You said I was dead weight. They asked me to lead.”

For the first time, Nolan looked like he had lost something.

***

The silver crescent rested cool against the hollow of my throat.

Six months ago, Nolan had fastened the delicate chain behind my neck in the quiet of the northern woods, pressing his lips to my pulse point. *When the Moon Hunt roster is named,* he had whispered, his Alpha warmth sinking beneath my skin, *I won't hide what you are to me anymore. I'll claim you in front of the entire pack.*

Now, standing at the edge of the courtyard beneath the high banners of Silvercrest, I touched the pendant with trembling fingers.

The courtyard was packed shoulder to shoulder. Hundreds of pack members had gathered to hear the five names that would represent our territory in the annual Moon Hunt. It was the most brutal trial in the mountain territories, a race through lethal terrain where glory or humiliation awaited.

On the raised stone dais, Nolan looked every inch the future Alpha. Tall, broad-shouldered, with sharp golden eyes, he held the silver-tipped scroll that carried the council’s final selection.

Beside him stood my sister, Brielle. Her hair gleamed under the torchlight, her posture relaxed and confident. As an Alpha-born female, she carried herself with an easy arrogance I had never been allowed to possess.

Nolan raised a hand, and the murmurs died instantly.

"Our pack’s honor is at stake this year," Nolan’s voice boomed across the stones, rich with command. "The Moon Hunt demands power, discipline, and absolute resolve. Silvercrest will settle for nothing less than victory."

A cheer rose from the crowd. I caught his eye, offering a small, breathless smile. He looked straight at me, his expression unreadable, before glancing down at the parchment.

"Representing Silvercrest as our vanguard: Alpha Nolan Vance. Beta Garrett Shaw. Hunter Marcus Reed. Tracker Dane Miller."

Four names. The strongest fighters in our generation.

A hush settled over the courtyard. Everyone knew the fifth slot was the key. It was the navigator's spot—the one who would read the treacherous switchbacks and avoid the shifting deadfalls of the Frostfang pass.

Nolan took a slow breath, his chest expanding under his leather harness.

"And completing our roster as fifth member and lead scout..."

He paused, looking across the sea of faces until his gaze locked onto mine. My breath hitched. My hand tightened around the silver crescent.

"Brielle Cole."

The courtyard erupted into cheers.

The blood rushed out of my face. The roar of the crowd turned into a muffled, underwater hum.

Brielle stepped forward, radiant, soaking in the applause. She cast a brief, pitying glance down at me before turning her smile back to Nolan.

Nolan didn’t flinch. Instead, he reached toward the council table and picked up a heavy cylinder of weathered leather.

My breath caught in my throat. I recognized the brass fittings, the faint grease stain near the buckle.

He unrolled the parchment inside, letting the crowd see the intricate grid of ink, terrain markers, and wind patterns.

It was my map.

I had spent two years charting those mountains. I had climbed the frost-choked peaks at dawn, bled on the jagged slate, and measured the underground rivers with frozen fingers while Nolan sat warm in the Alpha den. Every contour was drawn in my hand. Every shortcut was a secret I had coaxed out of the wilderness.

Nolan held it up, presenting it to Brielle like a trophy.

"With this route," Nolan announced, his voice carrying over the fading cheers, "Silvercrest will reach the summit before any other pack."

Murmurs of confusion rippled through the older trackers standing near the platform. A graying warrior frowned, pointing toward the dais. "The Cole girl isn't a cartographer. Isn't that Wren's work? Shouldn't she take the fifth band?"

Nolan’s jaw tightened. He turned toward the crowd, his posture stiffening with authority.

"The Moon Hunt is a trial of endurance and blood," Nolan said coldly, his words cutting cleanly through the gathering. "No Alpha team can afford to carry an Omega through the mountains."

A collective silence fell over the courtyard.

The sting was sharp and deliberate, meant to put me in my place before anyone could question his judgment.

My hands clenched into fists. Pushing through the ranks of wolves, I climbed the stone steps to the dais. The guards tensed, but Nolan held up a hand, letting me approach.

"Give it back," I said, my voice quiet but steady.

Brielle shifted the rolled parchment behind her back, letting out a soft sigh. "Wren, please. Don't make a scene."

"That map isn't pack property," I said, looking straight into Nolan’s amber eyes. "It’s mine. You didn't walk those ridges. You didn't map the fault lines. If I'm not running, you don't take my work."

Nolan took a step closer, towering over me. His voice dropped to a low, warning hiss meant for my ears alone. "Stop this right now. You’re embarrassing yourself."

"You promised me," I whispered.

"I promised to do what was best for our pack," he countered, devoid of the warmth he had shown in the dark of the woods. "You’re an Omega, Wren. You can’t survive the physical clash at the summit. Brielle can. Your map will guide us, and when we win, the pack wins."

"You used me."

"I used your talents," he corrected smoothly, leaning in until his breath grazed my temple. "Don't let your personal feelings ruin Silvercrest's chance at the championship. Step down, be proud of what you contributed, and we’ll talk about this tonight."

I looked at him—really looked at him—and the illusion shattered.

He didn't want to bring me into the light. He never intended to. He wanted my mind, my labor, and my silence, tucked safely in the background while he took the glory with an Alpha on his arm.

"No," I said, stepping back from him. "We won't."

Brielle smiled faintly, clutching the cylinder tighter. Nolan’s eyes narrowed, a flash of irritation breaking through his composed facade, but he turned away, treating me as an afterthought.

I turned toward the stairs, intent on walking away from the dais, from the banners, from the lie I had lived for six months.

Before my foot hit the first stone step, the courtyard went dead quiet.

The crowd began parting in a hurry, wolves scrambling back against the perimeter walls to clear a path. The ambient chatter vanished, replaced by the heavy, measured crunch of boots on gravel.

Four figures were walking through the center lane.

They wore black boiled leather and charcoal coats, bearing no colors except the dark iron crest of Ravenscar. They moved with an ease that radiated absolute lethal capability.

Ronan, the towering frontline brawler, flanked the left with arms crossed over his massive chest. Elias, sharp-eyed and silent, watched the rooftops. Asher, the pack’s lethal hunter, had a lazy, mocking smirk playing on his lips.

And at their head walked Cassian.

The heir to Ravenscar. A true apex Alpha whose name made seasoned fighters lower their gazes. He was carved of sharp planes and dark hair, his slate-gray eyes fixed entirely on the dais.

The Silvercrest guards drew their blades half an inch, nervous energy vibrating through the air. Nolan stiffened, stepping forward to meet them at the edge of the platform.

"Cassian," Nolan said, adopting a formal, hostile tone. "Ravenscar is trespassing on Silvercrest selection grounds."

Cassian didn't even look at him.

He ignored Nolan completely, stepping right past the Silvercrest heir as if he were nothing more than empty air. He walked straight toward me, stopping only a foot away.

His height blocked out the torches, casting me in his shadow. Up close, his scent hit me—cedar, ozone, and the crisp bite of impending snow.

Cassian reached into his leather coat.

Nolan’s guards reached for their hilts, but Cassian didn't draw a weapon. Instead, he pulled out a strip of heavy black fabric embroidered with the jagged iron raven of his pack.

The fifth team band of Ravenscar.

Cassian held it out, opening his gloved fingers, letting the dark silk pool into my palm.

"We know who drew that route," Cassian said, his deep voice carrying easily across the silent square. "And we don't steal from our navigators."

My fingers closed around the black cloth.

On my left wrist, the white-and-silver training band of Silvercrest felt suddenly heavy, like a pair of rusted shackles.

Without breaking Cassian’s gaze, I reached down, tore the Silvercrest band from my skin, and let it fall. The white fabric drifted onto the dusty stone between our boots.

I held up my bare wrist to the Ravenscar Alpha.

"Tie it," I said.

Cassian’s eyes darkened with raw satisfaction. Taking the black ribbon, he wound it twice around my wrist, pulling the knot tight against my pulse. The iron thread gleamed against my skin.

"Wren, what the hell are you doing?!"

Nolan’s voice cracked with fury. He crossed the distance in a single stride, his Alpha command flaring so violently that the nearest Omegas in the crowd stumbled back.

For the first time in his life, he had lost control of where I stood.

His hand shot out, his fingers clamping hard around my forearm to drag me back. "You’re not going with them!"

I didn't cower. I didn't flinch.

I wrenched my arm out of his grasp with all the strength in my body, tearing my skin free from his grip.

"You said I was dead weight," I said, stepping shoulder to shoulder with Cassian as Ronan, Elias, and Asher moved in behind us, closing the circle. "They asked me to lead."