After abandoned, I found my Fated Alpha

I dragged the scratchy gray cotton over my head. The maid’s uniform smelled like bleach and old dust. I fastened the cheap plastic buttons, my fingers trembling against the stiff fabric. My right knee throbbed, a dull ache that flared into sharp agony when I put my weight on it. I grabbed the wooden banister and pulled myself up the stairs.

At the top landing, a sound stopped me dead.

Skin slapping against skin. A low, guttural moan echoing through the half-open mahogany door.

"Fuck, Edward, right there," a woman whined loudly.

Becky. My biological sister.

"You like that?" Edward growled. His voice, the same voice that used to whisper sweet promises into my ear, now thick with lust. "Tell me who you belong to."

"You. Only you." Becky’s voice spiked higher. "Give it to me. Make me your Luna."

"Fuck yes," Edward grunted. "You take my knot so much better than she ever could. My perfect mate."

"Does she know?" Becky giggled, breathless. "Does your crippled little wife know what we do in her bed?"

"Who cares what Una knows? Spread your legs wider."

"She used to scream your name, Edward. Now she just limps around the kitchen."

"Shut up and take it. You're the only female I want in this pack."

I pressed my back against the corridor wall. My chest caved in. I clamped a hand over my mouth to trap the sob tearing up my throat. My Alpha. My mate. Fucking my sister in the room we used to share.

I couldn't stay here. I pushed off the wall and hurried down the hall, my bad leg dragging awkwardly across the carpet.

I rounded the corner and collided hard with a small figure.

"Watch it!" a high-pitched voice snapped.

I blinked through my tears and looked down. Johnny.

My five-year-old son sat on the floor, surrounded by shreds of shimmering silver fabric. The heavy shears in his small hands glinted under the hallway lights.

He snipped again. A jagged tear ripped through the bodice.

My stomach plummeted. I recognized that fabric.

"Johnny, stop!" I dropped to my knees, ignoring the sharp spike of pain in my joints. I snatched the ruined garment from his hands. "What are you doing? This is my dress!"

It was the gown I wore the night Edward crowned me Luna of the Black Moon Pack. The silk was now hacked into jagged, useless ribbons.

Johnny didn't flinch. He looked up at me, a bright, innocent smile spreading across his face.

"I'm making rags," he squeaked.

"Rags? Johnny, why would you do this? This is mine. It's the dress from my Luna ceremony."

"Because you don't deserve to be Dad's Luna," he said.

The words punched the air straight out of my lungs.

"What did you just say to me?" I whispered.

"Only Aunt Becky can be Dad's Luna." Johnny tilted his head, his blue eyes staring at me without a shred of pity. "Dad said so."

"Who taught you to say