From Rejected Maid to the Lycan King's Queen

The clerk at the Registry couldn't look me in the eye when she turned the screen around.

My status didn't say "Luna" anymore. It said "Rogue."

My mate, Alpha Jackson, had secretly replaced me on the official paperwork three years ago with his mistress, Candida.

When I returned to the Pack House, Jackson didn't just bring Candida home; he brought a five-year-old boy he claimed was an orphan.

"This is Joey," he announced, his eyes cold and glazed over. "Since you are barren, he will be the future Alpha."

I tried to accept my fate as a servant in my own home, but they wanted me dead.

The boy, looking like an angel, brought me a bowl of soup.

"For you, Mama," he smiled.

But as I reached for it, he splashed the scalding liquid over my hands.

It wasn't just hot soup. It was laced with concentrated Wolfsbane.

As my skin sizzled and peeled, the boy threw himself on the floor, screaming that I had attacked him.

Jackson didn't check my burns. He didn't listen to my pleas.

"Submit!" he roared, using the Alpha Command to force me to my knees.

He made me apologize to the child who had just poisoned me.

That night, listening to Jackson mate with Candida in the room next to mine, the bond finally snapped.

They wanted the Luna gone? Fine.

I dialed a number I hadn't used in years.

"Hamilton," I whispered to the Lycan King. "I need a plane. And I need it to crash."

Chapter 1

Elena POV:

The fluorescent lights of the Registry hummed with a headache-inducing buzz. I stared at the screen the clerk had turned toward me. The pixels blurred, but the word in the status column was sharp enough to slice through my chest.

Rogue.

"There must be a mistake," I whispered, my voice trembling. "I am the Luna of the Blood Moon Pack. Jackson Parks is my mate."

The clerk, a young female Beta who wouldn't meet my eyes, clicked her mouse nervously.

"I'm sorry, Elena," she said, voice low. "Alpha Jackson submitted the paperwork three years ago. You were removed as 'Mate.' Yesterday, the system updated. Candida has been registered as the Luna."

My knuckles turned white against the cold metal counter.

Three years.

For three years, I had been living in the Pack House, playing the maid, managing the accounts, and waiting for him to look at me with something other than disgust. I thought it was stress. I thought it was my fault.

"And the child?" I asked, my throat dry as sandpaper.

"Joey. Registered as the Alpha's son and heir. Mother: Candida."

A low whine started in the back of my head. My inner wolf. She was usually quiet, crushed by the trauma from five years ago, but now she was howling in a grief so profound it made my knees buckle.

I remembered the day my womb was destroyed. Our Mating Ceremony. The jagged silver dagger, coated in poison, aimed at Jackson's heart. I didn't think. I jumped. The blade tore into my lower abdomen. The healers saved my life, but they told me I would never carry a pup.

Jackson had sworn it didn't matter. "You are my mate, Elena," he had said. "That is all that matters."

Lies.

I walked out into the gray afternoon. The city air smelled of exhaust and rain. I realized now why Jackson's eyes had been so cold. It wasn't just stress. It was the Alpha's Command.

He had been using his Voice on me subtly for years. Stay quiet. Don't ask questions. Submit.

Gaslighting backed by magical compulsion.

I drove back to the Pack House. My wolf hearing picked up voices before I even opened the front door.

"It is exhausting pretending to be humble, Jackson," a high-pitched voice complained. Candida.

"I know, baby," Jackson replied. His voice sounded deep, but hollow-like an echo in an empty room. "Just a little longer. The Council is old-fashioned. We have to ease them into it."

"She is still here," Candida hissed. "That barren mule."

"She is useful for the chores."

My heart stopped beating for a second. Useful for the chores.

"Daddy, can we get ice cream?" a child's voice piped up. Joey.

"Anything for you, champ," Jackson cooed.

Then, I smelled it. Pheromones. He was flooding the hallway with a thick, protective scent usually reserved for blood kin. It was overwhelming, masking everything else in the house. I took it as proof of his love for the boy, unaware that the scent was too sweet, too artificial-a mask covering something rotten.

A sharp pain twisted in my scarred abdomen.

I didn't storm in. I went to the garden, hidden behind the rose bushes, and pulled out my phone. My fingers shook as I dialed a number I hadn't used since high school.

It rang once. "Elena?"

The voice was deep, rumbling like thunder. "Alpha Hamilton," I said, strangely calm.

"Call me Hamilton. What is wrong? I feel... a disturbance."

"You always knew, didn't you? That I wasn't just an Omega."

"I knew you were special. Always."

I looked up at the gray sky. "I need a favor, Hamilton. I need a death. I need to die so I can be free."