Once a Rejected Luna, Now a Rising Queen

Ella's POV

My mate, Draven Blackthorn, the powerful Alpha of the Blackthorn Pack, brought his chosen she-wolf home on our seventh mating anniversary.

“Freya is finally carrying my pup. You must look after her, her safety will be your priority. If the baby is a male, he will be the rightful heir and future Alpha of the Blackthorn Pack.”

He spoke as he pulled out a chair for the omega named Freya Hart, but he never even bothered sparing me a single glance.

“She’s fragile and easily unsettled, so try not to be difficult. Don’t let your jealousy ruin what should be a joyful night for everyone.”

The Alpha added.

I said nothing.

Instead, I just reached for my travel bag and headed toward the door.

Sensing I truly meant to leave, Freya’s eyes instantly filled with tears. A perfect act she wore, like it's part of her skin.

She rose quickly and said:

“Alpha Draven, please don’t. I should be the one to back away. No, I’m already thankful that Luna Ella doesn’t despise me. Please, don’t fight over me.”

“Stop worrying about her. She’ll return soon enough. Once my temper ignites, she’ll crawl back begging at my feet, I am sure of it.”

Alpha Draven said coldly as he eased Freya back into her chair.

Freya's mother, who had arrived with her, sneered with contempt.

“What claim does a barren she-wolf have to the title of Luna? She's useless. Freya, eat. You carry my grandpup, the future Alpha. A wolf who can’t bear young is no different than a broken fang. Who else would want her?”

They didn’t realize my decision to leave wasn’t out of emotion—it was final.

I had no intention of ever stepping a paw back into that packhouse again.

Just as I reached the entrance, Draven called out, his voice as commanding as ever.

“Ella Moonfall.”

“Give that pregnant stray dog you’ve been sheltering to Freya. She’s always wanted another creature to give birth around the same time as her.”

I froze.

Outside, the small injured fox-like pup tied beneath the trees gave a whine, sensing me.

I remembered how Alpha Draven had once kicked the tiny creature with disgust when I’d tried to feed her.

I had begged him on my knees to let me keep her. He’d agreed—barely—but only if I left her outside, chained.

Now, all it took was a whim from Freya, and suddenly he was sentimental.

When I didn’t respond, Alpha Draven clicked his tongue in annoyance.

“It’s just a beast. Don’t act like it’s your pup. You’re not really attached, are you?”

Attached? Perhaps not. But what of the seven years I had stood beside him?

I clenched my fists, swallowing my own voice.

Saying no meant punishment. I’d learned that well.9

Draven demanded I fetch it.

I said no. I wasn’t well.

In response, the guards dragged me out into the thunder and rain and dumped me in the mountain’s dark heart.

I barely survived the descent, slipping down a muddy ravine on the way back, nearly losing my life.

The memory made my fingers tremble. I knelt and lifted the tiny creature. She purred weakly, thinking it a game.

“Be kind to her,” I said softly to Freya.

The Alpha seemed pleased at my compliance and offered what he thought was kindness.

“You’re finally being sensible. Remember, the pup in Freya’s belly will call you mother, too. She’s giving you a child.”

Before I could reply, Freya shrieked. As soon as she touched the stray dog, it startled and ran off.

Freya clutched her stomach, moaning in pain. Alpha Draven swept her up and roared for the healers, the pack's very own doctors.

Her mother shot me a mocking look, as if I were some pathetic joke.

Perhaps I was.

Just two days ago, I burned with a fever, 104 degrees, too high, the fever made me so weak I couldn't even lift a finger, and Draven didn't care, instead, he decided he'd go out to dine with Freya.

When he saw me sick, he spat curses and ordered the doctors to isolate me.

“Quarantine the entire house. Don’t let her infect Freya. Move her to the storage hut until she recovers!”

And what he said happened, like it was an order of a king never meant to be broken,

So I stayed in that hut.

No medicine. No warmth. Just stone floors and shadows.

I survived two days on nothing but moonlight and will.

But now? Freya flinched, and he summoned the entire pack to her aid.

I gripped my bag tighter, meaning to flee. But Alpha Draven caught my wrist.

“Kneel,” he growled, his voice sharp and cold as northern ice.

My knees struck the stone floor with a thud, pain shooting through my legs.

Sharp crystal edges from the mosaic tiles bit into my skin. The pain forced a gasp out of me.

Alpha Draven recoiled from the sound as though I were filth.

“Your mongrel beast scratched Freya. Either you apologize on its behalf, or…”

He turned to a servant. “Bring the creature. Kill it where she can see.”

“No! Please!” I screamed. “It was my fault! I was wrong! Don't hurt the dog, please, I'm begging you!”

I threw myself to the floor, clinging to his boot. My head struck the marble with a sickening crack.

The servants turned away in silence.

I had learned to beg three years ago—the day I miscarried and almost died.

The doctors said I might never carry again. And my first instinct was to say:

“I’m sorry. I failed you, Alpha.”

He held me back then. Told me it didn’t matter. That we had each other.

And later, he was still good to me—so good that I cried myself to sleep, fearing the doctor’s words.

So when he came home late, I stayed silent.

When I saw lipstick on his shirt, I didn’t ask.

When he brought Freya to me and said she’d give birth for me, I still didn’t speak.

But after my parents were killed in that brutal rogue attack, Draven changed.

Everything tender in him went to Freya. I became a discarded, infertile she-wolf—unworthy of the pack's respect.

At first, I endured. I begged. I submitted.

Because I loved him.

But now? I was done.

Blood filled my mouth as I bit down hard, and I refused to cry.

Draven's eyes narrowed as he saw the blood. His hand twitched, as if to touch my lip—then he turned away.

He loosened his collar and muttered coldly,

“Ella, you’re no longer the precious daughter of a noble bloodline of powerful wolves. Who are you putting on this pathetic act for? Stop acting like a tragic Luna. No one’s watching.”