Andromeda
Rain poured down in sheets as I knelt by Athena’s grave.
Cold water seeped into my collar, soaking my clothes, but it was nothing compared to the hollow ache consuming me from the inside out.
My heart sank—never in my worst nightmares did I imagine this day would come. My little girl, who only wanted to celebrate her fifth birthday with her father, now lay beneath the earth… and here I was, her mother, staring at a gravestone instead of her smile.
Memories stabbed my mind like nails driven deep.
The way her tiny hands moved when she first called me Mum. The sparkle in her eyes when Alpha Rigel called her ‘little goddess’.
Those moments spun endlessly in my head like a cruel reel.
Back then, we were happy. A family. Finally complete after three long years of trying for a child.
I worked too much in those early days. The pack doctor said stress had delayed my ability to conceive.
Rigel insisted I quit my job.
By then, his start-up—Nebula Playworks—was finally taking off, making waves in the human world.
“You don’t need to work anymore, Andie. You’ve done so much for Nebula already. I want a pup with you. Let me take care of everything.”
And like a fool, I believed him. Because both of us wanted Athena.
Now all I had left was the little claw pendant in my hand—a birthday gift for a five-year-old who never got to wear it.
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart… your last wish never came true.” I placed the necklace gently on her headstone.
Rain washed over my face, mingling with tears that no longer burned.
Then a shadow fell over me. A large black umbrella shielded me from the downpour.
“Luna Andromeda,” Beta Roland’s voice was clipped, formal. “Alpha Rigel sent me to fetch you. He’s waiting.”
For one foolish second, I thought maybe Rigel cared. That he regretted not coming with me, even after I told him I didn’t need him there.
But reality has never been that kind.
Back at the pack house, the truth hit me like a blade to the chest.
Mata Hari stood in the middle of the grand hall, dressed in a designer gown that hugged every curve—an image of sensual perfection for any he-wolf passing by.
Her hand clutched that of a little boy—Oasis—parading him like a trophy before the pack.
Beside her, Margareth beamed, making sure no one got too close to the pup for too long.
The whole display was pathetic. I almost laughed—but all I managed was a bitter curve of my lips.
Mata Hari’s eyes found mine. Her smile was warm—or rather, fake warmth wrapped in silk.
“Good afternoon, Luna Andromeda,” she cooed sweetly. “It’s so lovely to finally meet you.”
“Yes.” My reply was flat as stone.
Alpha Rigel stepped forward, voice carefully calm.
“Mata Hari will be staying here for a while—until she finds a place of her own. She… was rejected by her mate after suffering abuse. She needs a safe space to heal.”
I nodded once. “Do whatever you want.”
Inside, everything was numb. Lie after lie, piling up like a mountain of rotting snow.
No rage. No outburst. Just an icy silence freezing me from within.
Margareth swept closer, her sugary smile sharp as glass.
“Luna Andromeda, you’re being so cold. Mata Hari is our guest. As Luna, you should welcome her warmly.”
I met her gaze, voice steady. “I’m not a hypocrite like you.”
Her face hardened. “What did you just say? Don’t forget—I adopted you from that orphanage. Without me, you’d never be here, never become my son’s mate.”
I gave a short, humourless laugh. “And don’t you forget—I helped Alpha Rigel build Nebula Playworks from the ground up. If I hadn’t dragged myself through the mud with you back then, none of this would’ve survived.”
The tension snapped tight. Rigel cut in before sparks turned to flames.
“Enough. Mum, stop. Don’t bring up the past. Andromeda, please understand—Mata Hari needs time to recover. Try to… keep things positive, okay?”
Positive energy? Bloody hell—you’re the one who dragged that darkness into our pack with this pathetic little theatre act.
Back in my room, I sat in silence, piecing together the fragments of what was and what’s to come.
It didn’t take long for Mata Hari to snake her way into South Hallow.
Athena’s death paved her path—how tragic is that?
My hand drifted to my belly—the home of the Alpha’s true heir.
“Mummy will protect you, little one. Even if it costs me my life.” A tear traced down my cheek. “I’ll get you out of this hell.”
If my pup was going to be strong, then I had to be stronger.
Beta Roland summoned me for dinner—a formality I’d avoided since Athena’s funeral.
But tonight, I’d endure it. For appearances. To make Rigel believe I was still the dutiful Luna, all smiles and grace.
The meal was torture. I barely spoke, just chewed and swallowed, ignoring Mata Hari’s endless monologue about her tragic past and how noble Rigel was for saving her.
That must’ve stung her pride—because the next thing I knew, she gave a little gasp and “accidentally” spilled red sauce all over her own gown.
“Oh no, my dress!” Her voice trembled, a flawless act of helpless victimhood. “Luna Andromeda… I know you’re still upset with me, but—”
I shot her a cold look. “I didn’t even touch you.”
But Rigel whipped round, his voice sharp. “Luna Andromeda! You’re the Luna here. Control yourself. Mata Hari is always spotless—she wouldn’t do this on purpose.”
Something inside me cracked.
“I said I didn’t touch her. Keep accusing me and I swear I’ll walk out that door.”
“You—”
The slap came hard and fast.
Rigel’s hand struck my cheek. His eyes softened a heartbeat later, regret flickering in their depths.
“You hit me?” My voice was quiet. Broken.
“Andromeda… you should understand Mata Hari’s situation. She’s a she-wolf, like you. Neither of you wants to be hur—” He stopped, choking on his hypocrisy.
Hurt? You bloody hurt me the moment you marked her.
I curled my fingers into fists, nails biting my palms, stopping myself from clawing Mata Hari’s smug face.
“Alpha, I don’t want to cause any more trouble,” Mata Hari murmured, rising with a saintly sigh. “Perhaps I should stay at a hotel instead.”
Rigel gripped her arm instantly.
“No, Mata Hari. You’re staying here. I promised your father I’d keep you safe.”
Anger and despair fused into one bitter taste that coated my tongue.
I turned and walked out without a word.
Rigel didn’t stop me.
Not long after, he came to my room—wearing guilt like a second skin. He begged me to accept Mata Hari and Oasis.
What a joke. The universe really is playing me, forcing me to tolerate the woman who stole my mate.
“Andie, please. I promised the late Alpha Timothy I’d protect her. She’s been through hell with an abusive mate.”
“Do whatever you want. You’re the Alpha. I’m tired. Close the door on your way out.”
“You’re not angry anymore?” He looked at me like an idiot.
“I said I’m tired. I need rest.”
“…Alright. I’m sorry for what I did earlier.”
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
A text from an unknown number lit up the screen:
It’s time you learned who you really are, Andromeda Nielsen—Daughter of Alpha King Richard. If you want the truth, don’t block this number. You deserve your legacy.
I stared at the message, my heartbeat slow but heavy.
Was this real—or just another cruel joke to swallow?
Then came another image from the same sender.
A photograph of a Winchester Claw medal—the symbol of the oldest pack in existence—hanging around the neck of a one-year-old pup cradled in his parents’ arms.
