After abandoned, I found my Fated Alpha

Three days ago.

The leather seat of the luxury sedan offered no comfort to my battered body. I stared out the tinted window. The towering iron gates of the Black Moon Pack House swung open.

I wore a torn, mud-stained shirt and frayed jeans. A stark contrast to the plush interior of the car.

The vehicle glided up the long, winding driveway and jerked to a stop.

I waited.

A minute passed. No one opened my door.

I rolled down the window. Thomas, the pack’s head butler, stood on the pristine gravel. His hands rested firmly behind his back. He didn't move an inch.

"Open the door, Thomas," I said.

"Open it yourself," he replied, crossing his arms.

"I am the Luna of the Black Moon Pack."

"You were the Luna," Thomas corrected, his upper lip curling in open disgust. "Now, you are simply a problem."

"A problem that can still have you disciplined," I warned, gripping the handle.

"Go ahead and try. The Alpha’s orders supersede yours." He stepped aside. "Hurry up. The Alpha’s time is valuable."

I shoved the heavy door open. I dragged my injured left leg out of the vehicle. A sharp, searing pain shot up my thigh. I stumbled forward, my hands slapping against the hood of the car to catch my balance.

Thomas scoffed. He turned and walked toward the stairs, offering no assistance.

I pushed off the car. I forced my head up.

At the top of the grand marble steps stood my husband.

Edward.

He wore a tailored navy suit, looking every bit the powerful Alpha I remembered. But my eyes immediately darted to the woman glued to his side.

Becky. My biological sister.

Her arms wrapped tightly around his bicep. She leaned heavily against him, her manicured fingers brushing the lapel of his jacket. A sickeningly sweet smile stretched across her face.

"Una!" Becky called out. Her voice echoed across the quiet courtyard.

I tightened my jaw and took a step forward. My bad leg dragged over the gravel, the scraping sound loud in the tense silence.

"You look absolutely dreadful," Becky said. She let go of Edward just long enough to cross her arms. "Una, it must have been so hard coming back from the Silver Crest Pack."

"Why are you standing there?" I asked, my voice raspy. I kept my eyes locked on my mate.

Edward didn't blink. He stared straight ahead, his expression carved from stone. He refused to look at my face.

"Don't be hostile," Becky chided, taking one step down the stairs. "Look at those rags. You look like a stray dog. But don't worry. From now on, you'll stay in the Pack House as a maid."

"A maid?" I choked out. "I am his mate. I fought for this pack."

"You got captured for this pack," Becky corrected, tracing Edward's jawline with her finger. "You embarrassed us. We are all family, we should help each other. Giving you a job is our way of helping you pay off your debt."

"Debt? I saved his life!" I yelled. "Edward, tell her to shut up."

He remained silent.

"Edward, look at me!" I demanded. "I survived. I came back. Tell her to get away from you."

"You don't give orders here," Becky said, her smile widening into a cruel smirk. "You failed your mission. You lost your strength. Black Moon doesn't bow to cripples."

"I am the Luna," I snapped.

"You are a liability," Becky countered. "But out of the goodness of our hearts, you get a mop instead of an exile."

I stared at the man I loved. The man I bled for.

"Is this true?" I asked him directly. "You're making me a servant in my own home?"

Edward finally shifted. He pulled his arm free from Becky's grasp.

"Are we done here?" he asked the empty air.

"Yes, Alpha," Becky purred, instantly reaching for his hand again.

He turned his back to me. He walked through the double mahogany doors. He didn't spare me a single glance. Not a word. Not a nod. Just the retreating line of his broad back.

My chest caved in. I grabbed the cold metal railing of the staircase, my knuckles turning white.

"Use the service entrance," Thomas snapped from behind me.

"I know the way," I fired back.

I ignored the butler. One agonizing step at a time, I climbed the marble stairs. Each movement sent a jolt of fire through my knee and ankle. Sweat beaded on my forehead by the time I reached the top.

Becky waited by the door, blocking my path.

"Move," I warned.

"Your uniform is in the laundry room," she whispered, leaning close. "Try to scrub the floors quietly. Edward hates noise."

"Get out of my way, Becky."

She stepped aside, a triumphant glint in her eyes.

I pushed past her and stepped into the grand foyer. The familiar scent of pine and lemon polish hit my nose. The giant crystal chandelier hung above. The velvet couches sat in the exact same arrangement. Everything looked identical to the day I left.

But nothing was the same.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. I just needed to find my son. Johnny. He was the only reason I survived the torture at Silver Crest. I just needed to see his face.

I dragged my bad leg down the main corridor.

"Where is he?" I asked a passing omega carrying a stack of towels.

She avoided my gaze, lowered her head, and scurried away.

I pushed forward. Voices drifted from the living room ahead.

"Look what Dad bought me!" a high, childish voice cheered.

Johnny.

A desperate smile broke across my face. I hurried my pace, ignoring the sharp spikes of pain shooting up my leg. I rounded the corner, ready to call out his name, ready to hold him.

He sat on the plush rug, ripping the wrapping paper off a large box. A young nanny stood nearby, clapping her hands.

"Johnny," I croaked.

He stopped tearing the paper. He turned his little head. His bright blue eyes landed on me. He took in my filthy clothes, my matted hair, my awkward, leaning posture.

"Who is that?" he asked the nanny, pointing a small finger at me.

"Johnny, it's me," I said, taking a step into the room. "It's Mom."

His nose wrinkled in disgust. He scrambled backward across the rug, clutching his new toy to his chest.

"No!" Johnny shouted.

"Sweetheart, please. Come here." I reached my hand out, my fingers trembling.

"Stay away from me!" He kicked his feet against the floor.

"It's just dirt," I pleaded, taking another painful step forward. "I'll wash up. I missed you so much, baby."

"That weak, bad woman is not my mother!" Johnny screamed.

The words hit me harder than any silver blade. My arm dropped weakly to my side.

"What did you say?" I whispered.

"My mother is a Luna!" he yelled, his face turning red with anger. "You are a monster! Get out!"

The nanny stepped between us, holding her hands up. "You should leave. You're upsetting him."

"He is my son," I growled, a flare of defensive anger rising in my chest. "Do not tell me to leave."

"He doesn't want you here," the nanny retorted, lifting her chin. "None of us do. The Alpha made it clear you are not to disturb the young master."

"I am his mother!"

"A mother wouldn't abandon her son for months," she sneered.

"I was held captive!"

"I will speak to my child," I said, pushing past her.

"Don't touch me!" Johnny shrieked, throwing the toy box at my legs. The hard cardboard struck my injured knee.

I gasped, collapsing onto the carpet. The pain blinded me for a second.

"See?" Johnny mocked, pointing at me on the floor. "You're weak."

I stared at the five-year-old boy I brought into this world. He looked at me with pure hatred.

"Who taught you to say that?" I asked, my voice cracking.

"Someone who knows your true place," a cold voice echoed from the doorway.

I spun my head around.