Scarred by the Alpha: Run, Luna, Run

After seven years of being the Alpha’s girlfriend, Bradley Kane, the pack’s charming yet insufferable Alpha of the Moonstone Pack, finally sent me something to remember my birthday—a bouquet of 9,999 moonlit roses.

Oh, and a lacy black lingerie set.

It was the first time Bradley had ever bought me flowers. Elated, I posted a picture of the bouquet on the pack’s community network. The replies poured in, but one comment stood out like a dagger to the chest:

“Some people are just happy picking up the scraps I don’t want.”

The account belonged to none other than Veronica Jones, the currrnt Beta’s ‘kind’ cousin and the she-wolf everyone thought would become our Luna, not when I was suddenly betrothed to him—a girl from a rogue family who managed to climb the ranks due to my father’s hardwork.

Yet still, I’m glad I’m not an Omega at least—just a mere pack member.

And just like that, the fantasy shattered.

I dug a little deeper, which wasn’t hard since Veronica didn’t bother hiding it. That’s when I learned that Bradley had bought a hidden cottage for her deep within Moonstone territory—mere steps from the Alpha’s estate that was supposed to be our future home. The roses, the gifts it was all meant for her.

Veronica Jones . . .

My claws itched as I marched toward their hideout—I carried the mountain of flowers straight to his so-called secret sanctuary, a quaint cabin surrounded by moon lilies. I didn’t even bother knocking.

Inside, I found them.

The table was set for two, candlelight casting a soft glow over their cozy dinner. Bradley and Veronica looked up, startled, as I stepped into their den of betrayal, holding their goddamn flowers.

“Yasmine,” Bradley said, his golden eyes narrowing. His usual smirk was nowhere to be seen, replaced with that fake calm he always put on when he was about to gaslight me. “You’re overreacting again. Veronica and I were just discussing pack business.”

Pack business. Right. Over wine and steak in her bedroom, no less.

“If there really was something between us,” he continued, “do you think I’d even bother letting you stay in my life, let alone consider you for Luna?”

The old me would’ve argued, shouted, maybe even cried. But today? Today, I simply let out a short laugh, tossed the roses onto their precious dinner table, and pulled off the engagement ring he had made such a big deal about.

“Good luck with her, Alpha,” I said, my voice calm despite the chaos roaring inside me. “You’ll need it.”

The ring rolled to Bradley's feet, coming to a halt against his perfectly polished boots. He didn’t even flinch. With deliberate arrogance, he pressed his heel down, grinding the ring—and my pride—into the wooden floor.

“If you want to be Luna, Yasmine, learn how to stop being so paranoid. You’re embarrassing yourself. Go home and think about what you’ve done.”

Something inside me snapped. Not in anger—no, I’d moved past that—but in clarity. It was like someone had peeled back the illusion I’d been living under for the past seven years.

I turned without another word, walking out of the house as if their betrayal hadn’t just gutted me.

***

Back at my apartment, I didn’t cry. Instead, I picked up my phone and sent a single message to the pack’s group chat.

“Bradley Kane is no longer my husband. The engagement is off. Best of luck to him and Veronica Jones.”

It didn’t take long for the replies to come pouring in.

Bradley, the coward that he was, immediately posted a photo of himself typing at his desk, his Alpha badge conveniently displayed.

“I was just handling some important pack matters with Veronica. Yasmine’s tantrums are getting out of hand. She’s mad because I didn’t buy her that ridiculously overpriced dress for the Luna ceremony.”

He followed it up with:

“I’ve never even complained about her spending my pack credit card at bars with rogues.”

The group chat exploded, as I expected. My mother, the ever-supportive she-wolf she was, jumped in first.

“Yasmine! Apologize to Bradley immediately. Do you know how lucky you are to have the Alpha of the willing to take you in? If you mess this up, don’t bother coming home!”

She added a dramatic:

“I’ll die if you ruin this marriage.”

Rolling my eyes, I left the chat.

***

After my parents’ divorce, my mother had grown bitter, taking out all her resentment on me. Bradley had been my escape—charming, confident, and promising a life where I didn’t have to tiptoe around someone’s temper.

But after seven years, it was clear his charm had never been meant for me. His smiles were reserved for Veronica. His gentleness? Only for the pack’s approval.

With me, he’d been nothing but cold, cruel, and calculating.

I used to fight back, to beg for his affection, to prove that I was worthy of being Luna. But I finally realized something. A woman who still loves fights to keep her place. A woman who’s done? She lets go.

***

When Bradley showed up at my apartment that night, holding a single, wilted rose, I almost laughed.

“Still sulking?” he asked, his tone annoyed as he threw the flower onto my coffee table. “I got you a rose. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted? Stop being so damn dramatic.”

I glanced at the flower, then back at him. Once upon a time, I’d envied the she-wolves who walked around with fresh bouquets from their mates. I’d dropped hints, hoping Bradley would do the same.

But he’d always sneered at me.

“If I’d known you were such a shallow, materialistic woman, I wouldn’t have bothered with you,” he’d said once. “A Luna needs to have substance, Yasmine, not this silly obsession with flowers.”

Yet here he was, pretending this limp excuse for an apology would be enough.

“You know,” I said, standing up and crossing my arms, “for an Alpha, you have a real talent for being a coward.”

His brows furrowed, confusion flashing in his dark eyes.

“Bradley,” I said, standing up and crossing the room until I was right in front of him. I held his gaze, my voice calm and steady.

I kicked the roses off the table, letting them scatter across the floor. My voice dropped as I stared him down. “I don’t like second-hand goods. And I sure as hell don’t want a second-hand mate.”