The Luna's Vengeance: Alpha's Fall from Grace

In the heart of the Scarlet Claws Pack, where loyalty and honor reigned supreme, I was once the proud Luna and my son Drew David, a prodigy in our education center, was destined to become an Alpha before he even turned ten. His brilliance was overshadowed only by his battle with a terminal illness, yet his spirit remained undaunted.

“Mom, I wanna go picnic with you and Dad as a gift,” Drew’s voice echoed with innocent hope as he aced his exams, his eyes gleaming with the anticipation of our planned family celebration. With his birthday just around the corner, I envisioned a perfect picnic—one last precious memory for our family.

But as the fateful day arrived, Hugh, my husband and the Alpha, broke his promise and vanished without a trace. The days of silence were agonizing. Drew’s health deteriorated swiftly and despite my desperate attempts to reach Hugh, he remained unreachable. We rushed Drew to the hospital, where the prognosis was dire: less than 48 hours left.

Tragically, the next day, Drew slipped away. My heart shattered into pieces as Hugh finally answered my calls—not with concern, but with irritation. “What, Lacey? Can you stop calling me obsessively? Fifty missed calls? Come on, what nonsense now?” I later discovered he had spent those critical days with his mistress, my sister Kathleen and her feverish son. Her social media post flaunting their happy picnic with the caption, “Thanks for always taking care of us. Little Frankie is happy now,” only deepened my despair.

The injustice Drew endured fueled a fire within me. I vowed to exact retribution. “They said you want a divorce—please, tell me it’s not true!” As Hugh stood before me in his prison orange, begging for a reprieve from our divorce, I had already orchestrated his downfall—stripped of his Alpha title, his wealth and now imprisoned.

***

“Are you the patient’s family?” A doctor in a white coat asked, his expression giving away bad news before he even spoke. I gulped and nodded. “Yes, I’m his mom.”

He paused, looking at me for a few seconds before saying, “We need to talk in my office.” My stomach churned; this couldn’t be good. But I followed him in anyway.

Once we were seated at his desk, he took a deep breath and gave me a look I’d become all too familiar with over the past few years—a mix of pity, concern, and helplessness that never failed to make me uneasy. “What’s happening, doc?” I urged.

“Ms. David, Drew has been incredibly strong and resilient all these years. Most ALS patients only live 3-5 years after diagnosis, but he’s managed to hold on for six,” he began.

“Yes, but what about this last flare-up? He’s going to be okay now, right?” I pressed.

“Well, the thing is... I’m not sure how to say this, but his condition has gotten significantly worse since his last check-up a few months ago—”

“What do you mean? He always takes his medicine and gets enough rest,” I cut him off, my voice rising.

“Ms. David, those medications only manage the symptoms; they can’t cure him. And last night’s attack was severe. I’m afraid he only has about 48 hours left,” he said gently.

“What? No, you must be joking. There’s no way my son’s life is ending that soon.”

“We’re really sorry, Ms. David. We’ve done everything we can, but that’s our best estimate.”

“Can’t I move him to a bigger hospital? Or get another doctor to help? I’ll pay whatever it takes,” I pleaded.

“Unfortunately, like we’ve discussed before, there’s no cure for apoptosis—not even the best doctor can change that. Your son has reached the final stage. It won’t be long before his brain loses the ability to control muscle movement, leading to paralysis and, eventually, respiratory failure.

“My suggestion is to gather his loved ones and focus on making him happy. Let him leave this world with good memories.”

It felt like I couldn’t breathe, like I was choking. I bit down on my tongue to stop myself from breaking down right there. I thanked the doctor, then hurried to the restroom. The second I got into a stall, I finally let the tears flow.

I couldn’t believe what I’d just heard. It felt surreal. My son was diagnosed with Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis (ALS) when he was only four. This illness had taken everything from us, with how fast it progressed and how much it robbed him of—his ability to move, speak, eat, and even breathe.

Thus, despite being very good in diplomacy and strategy—just what anyone would expect from the Alpha’s son, when it came to strength, stamina and resilience, he struggled a lot. His illness left him easily fatigued and he couldn't join in any rough fights.

Hugh David and I had been married for over 10 years, yet he never really loved me or our son. We were together out of duty to the pack since I was the oldest daughter of the previous Alpha and Luna.

I used to have a sister who mated with an Alpha from another pack. They married and had a child, but last year, her mate was killed by a stronger Alpha. With nowhere else to go, she returned to the Scarlet Claws.

From the moment she came back, Hugh's indifference turned into outright cruelty. He had always been distant, but now, he was blatant about it. “Lacey, the person I’ve always loved is your sister, Kathleen. Now that she’s here, you should know your place,” he said.

After some pushing, Hugh agreed to take Drew on a picnic as the gift for his good grades. But suddenly, on the day where the long-anticipated picnic supposed to happen, Hugh stood us up and could not be contacted, even by his right-hand man, Rafael Davidson. I was freaking out because Drew's health took a sudden nosedive that night. He was shivering and couldn’t even get out of bed. His illness had flared up before, but this was the worst. He had to be admitted to emergency treatment.

That morning, the doctor gave me the news—48 hours left. I wiped away my tears and walked into my son’s ward. There he was, lying there so weak, his face pale under the breathing mask. “Hi, sweetheart,” I whispered, gently caressing his cheek.

“Mom... my body hurts,” he said, his voice so faint it almost got lost in the beeping of the machines around him. Tubes were connected to his little body, keeping him alive. He struggled to breathe, and I had to look away. It was too much to see him like this. “You’ll be okay, love. Mom’s here. Want me to get you some ice cream?” I asked, my voice barely steady.

“Where’s Dad?” His question hit me like a dull knife, right in the heart.

“He’ll be here soon, Drew. He’s on his way.” I lied. I had to. No mother could tell her son that his dad was a selfish jerk who didn’t care enough to be there.

“Tell him to hurry. I want to see him... so we can go on that picnic he promised.”

Hugh hardly lived with us; he stayed in another mansion within our pack's territory. He never saw Drew’s suffering firsthand and thought we were exaggerating to get him to come home. I was always the one taking care of Drew. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, he would cry out for Hugh, longing to be with his dad. It broke my heart and all I could do was hold him and cry.

I waited for Hugh a day and night, but he still did not show up. Drew’s condition kept getting worse and he kept calling out for Hugh in his semi-conscious state.

After quite some time, I finally managed to get through to Hugh.

“What, Lacey? Can you stop calling me obsessively? Fifty missed calls? Come on, what nonsense now?”

“Your son... Drew...” My voice shook with anger and sadness.

“Stop using him as an excuse again! Kathleen’s son had a fever and I had to help her. Yes, I bailed on the picnic yesterday, but we can always do it another day. Tell your weak son to stop whining!” He rattled off so quickly I couldn’t get a word in before he hung up.

I couldn't believe what I had just heard. I wanted to call Hugh back and tell him about Drew’s condition, however, his phone was turned off again, so I could not get through him. A feeling of anger, humiliated, and sadness crept in as I squeezed the phone. Poor Drew, I got him a deadbeat dad.

Finally, he went critical and didn’t wake up again. A few hours later, the doctor told me they couldn’t feel Drew’s vital signs anymore and I dazed as I saw his lifeless body lying on the bed.

I broke down, then ran to the nearest hill. I transformed along the way and howled in sorrow, joined by the distant howls of other pack members. Nothing could bring Drew back now.

I had to deal with the sorrow alone and get through the burial as quickly as possible. I just wanted it to be over. Only a few close people came to the ceremony because I couldn’t handle a crowd.

Drew had been my only sunshine during the storm, my reason to live. With my parents gone, a husband who didn’t love me and no close relationship with my sister, I felt completely alone now.

When I got home, everything hit me even harder. Drew’s stuff was scattered everywhere—his clothes, his books, his pictures on the wall. I opened his room and saw everything just as he’d left it a few days ago. It was like he was still here, but he was gone forever.

I completely lost it, crying so hard I felt dizzy. I went to the kitchen, grabbed a glass of water and tried to calm down. While I was sipping it, I checked Instagram and saw Kathleen’s story at the top. I clicked on it and saw a picture of her with man and a little boy in the middle, all smiling. The boy had a fever plaster on his forehead and the caption read, [Thanks for always taking care of us. Little Frankie is happy now.]

I was so enraged I threw the glass against the wall, watching it shatter. It was infuriating that Hugh chose to be with Kathleen and her sick kid instead of being with Drew, who was about to die. I laughed bitterly through my tears, wondering if it was all some cruel joke. What did Drew do to deserve this? To have a dad like Hugh? Then I heard footsteps coming closer.