Luna Rejected by Alpha

I added the final touches to the ceremonial dress that would make me Ryan's Luna in just seven days. The silver thread glimmered as I stitched delicate moonflowers along the neckline—symbols of eternal devotion. My fingers traced the fabric, imagining how Ryan's eyes would light up when he saw me walking toward him at our Mate Ceremony.

Then it happened.

*Hello, Luna... or should I say future ex-Luna?*

The voice sliced through my mind like an icy blade. I dropped the needle, pricking my finger. A drop of blood stained the pristine white fabric as the unfamiliar female voice continued to invade my thoughts.

*Amber Stevens. Remember the name, because soon I'll be taking your place.*

I clutched the edge of my sewing table, the room suddenly spinning. "Who are you? How are you in my head?"

*Your precious Alpha gave me access to your mind-link. One of the many... intimacies we've shared these past months.*

Disbelief crashed through me. Ryan wouldn't—couldn't—do this. He was my savior, my everything. The man who had rescued me when I was just eighteen, wolfless and alone.

*Still don't believe me?* Her voice dripped with cruel amusement. *Why don't you ask him about the wolfsbane tea he's been serving you? Such a clever way to dull your wolf senses so you wouldn't smell me on him when he crawled back to your bed.*

The teacup on my nightstand—the special blend Ryan insisted I drink each night for my "health"—suddenly looked sinister. I'd always wondered why my wolf senses seemed weaker than other she-wolves'.

*He doesn't want you, Sarah. He wants the broken little orphan he rescued. The weak, pathetic girl who worshipped him. Not the Luna you're pretending to be.*

I shut my eyes, trying to force her out, but her laughter echoed inside my skull.

*We've made videos, you know. He thought they'd make a nice wedding gift for you. I disagreed—I think you deserve them now.*

When her presence finally withdrew, I collapsed to the floor, gasping. The silver scars across my chest—marks from the rogue attack where I'd thrown myself in front of Ryan—seemed to burn beneath my shirt. Seven years of devotion. Seven years of building my life around him.

I was still trembling when a knock came at my door hours later.

"Package for Luna Sarah," called one of the younger pack members.

I opened the door with unsteady hands. The young wolf handed me a carved wooden box, his eyes carefully averted from my tear-stained face.

"Who sent this?"

"It was left at the border, Luna. No scent."

After he left, I placed the box on my bed, afraid to open it. The wood was dark and polished, with a crescent moon carved into the lid. When I finally gathered the courage to lift the lid, my world shattered completely.

Photographs. Dozens of them. Ryan with his arms around a stunning blonde—Amber, I presumed. Ryan with a redhead I recognized from the Northern Pack. Ryan with a brunette pressed against a wall, his hands tangled in her hair.

Beneath the photos lay a USB drive and a handwritten note: *He wants the broken little wolf he saved, not the Luna you've become.*

I sank onto my bed, the photographs scattered around me like fallen leaves. My mind flashed to every "diplomatic mission" Ryan had taken over the past years. Each time he'd returned with a ceremonial gift for me—a dress, jewelry, rare flowers. I'd believed they were tokens of his love.

Now I saw them for what they truly were: guilt offerings.

I picked up a photo of Ryan kissing Amber's neck—the same intimate gesture he performed with me. In the background, I could see the calendar on his office wall. The date matched exactly with the day he'd brought me the blue silk dress I'd planned to wear to the pack gathering next month.

My stomach lurched as I realized the pattern. Every gift, every tender gesture, had been his way of atoning for betrayal.

The USB drive felt heavy in my palm. Did I dare see what was on it? The thought of watching Ryan with another woman made bile rise in my throat, but something inside me hardened. I needed to know everything if I was going to survive this.

As the sun set outside my window, casting long shadows across the room that once felt like home, I realized one thing with crystal clarity: the woman who would walk into that Mate Ceremony in seven days would not be the same one who had spent years stitching devotion into a wedding dress now stained with her own blood.