Luna Rejected by Alpha

The morning after my visit to Mira, I stood in my room at the Shadowmoon Pack House, staring at the ceremonial dress hanging on my closet door. The silver thread I'd lovingly stitched now seemed to mock me, each tiny moonflower a reminder of devotion wasted on a man who had never truly loved me.

I turned away from it and knelt beside my bed, sliding out the small wooden box where I kept my personal documents. My fingers trembled slightly as I unlocked it, revealing the bankbook inside. Seven years of saving every gift Ryan had given me out of guilt—jewelry, ceremonial tokens, pack allowances—had accumulated into a substantial sum.

"Time to put his betrayal to good use," I whispered to myself.

I dressed carefully in unassuming clothes—a simple blue dress that wouldn't draw attention—and headed to the pack's financial office. Beta James looked up in surprise when I entered.

"Luna Sarah," he greeted me with a respectful nod. "How can I assist you today?"

"I'd like to withdraw my personal funds," I said, keeping my voice steady. "All of them."

A flicker of concern crossed his face. "That's quite unusual, especially so close to your ceremony. Is everything alright?"

I forced a smile. "Of course. I'm planning a special surprise for Alpha Ryan. Something... unforgettable."

That wasn't a lie. What I had planned would certainly be unforgettable.

James hesitated only briefly before processing my request. I watched as he transferred my entire balance to a cashier's check, trying not to show my relief when he didn't question me further.

From there, I made my way to the human town twenty miles from our territory. The bank teller barely glanced at me as I opened a new account under the name Emma Thompson, depositing most of the funds into an escrow that could be accessed remotely.

"And how long have you been planning to start your... herb shop, Ms. Thompson?" asked the elderly human woman at the business licensing office, peering at me over her glasses.

"All my life," I replied, the lie coming easily. "Healing is my calling."

She stamped the papers with a satisfying thud. "Well, good luck to you. Not many young people interested in the old ways these days."

I tucked the new identity documents into my purse, feeling a strange mixture of guilt and exhilaration. Emma Thompson—herbalist, business owner, human-passing rogue—was born.

Back in my room, I packed methodically. A waterproof bag containing Mira's potion, the forged documents, a change of clothes, and a small silver dagger I'd received as a gift from Ryan on our fifth anniversary. Ironic that his present would now aid my escape from him.

I hid the bag beneath a loose floorboard under my bed, then mapped out the final piece of my plan. The car I'd purchased through a third party—an old but reliable sedan—was now parked half a mile from where the underwater tunnel emerged on the far side of the sacred lake.

Three days before I would cease to exist as Sarah Mitchell, I walked through the pack marketplace, my mind racing with final preparations. The bustling square was filled with vendors setting up for the pre-ceremony festivities. Pack members nodded respectfully as I passed, some offering congratulations on my upcoming mating. Each kind word felt like another betrayal I had yet to uncover.

I was examining a display of apples when a body collided with mine, sending the fruit tumbling to the ground.

"Oh, I'm so clumsy," came a silky voice that made my blood freeze.

I looked up into the face of a stunning blonde woman—the same one from the photographs. Amber Stevens. In person, she was even more beautiful, with perfect features and calculating blue eyes that assessed me like a predator sizing up wounded prey.

As we both knelt to gather the scattered apples, she leaned close enough that only I could hear her whispered words.

"He only thinks of that helpless girl you were," she hissed, her breath hot against my ear. "Every time he's with me, he calls me by your name—but he means the weak, wolfless orphan he saved. Not the Luna you pretend to be."

I remained perfectly still, my face a mask of composure as I straightened, clutching an apple so tightly my nails pierced its skin. Juice ran down my wrist like blood.

"Thank you for your help," I said evenly, tilting my head slightly as I met her gaze.

Something in my lack of reaction made her eyes narrow with uncertainty. She'd expected tears, anger, a scene—anything but this eerie calm.

What she couldn't know was that her cruelty had come too late. The Sarah who would have been destroyed by her words had already begun to disappear, burned away with the silver scars that once marked my chest.

As I walked away, the juice from the crushed apple dripping from my fingers, I realized that Amber had just given me the final gift I needed: absolute certainty that I was making the right choice.