Rejected Luna's Vengeance Flame

My mate’s latest conquests have fled the pack again.

This time, Shepherd Larson, the Alpha of the Larson Pack, attempted to lure them back with a signed rejection agreement. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve witnessed this game. I’ve cried, raged, even contemplated disappearing like the other she-wolves he’s pursued. But each time, he hands me a check with another zero added, smirking as he asks, “Is this enough?”

I took the rejection papers and signed my name without hesitation. Shepherd’s smirk deepened, and he patted my head, his tone condescending. “Good girl. It’s just a formality. I’ll nullify it once the cooling-off period ends.”

“You’ll come back to me, won’t you?” he continued, his voice dripping with arrogance. “Every Alpha enjoys a challenge, especially when it involves a pair of elusive beauties. Once I’ve claimed them, I’ll settle down with you.”

I didn’t argue. Instead, I picked up the check from the floor. He didn’t know I’d already decided I was done waiting for him.

---

“Your rejection registration is complete. It’ll be finalized in a month,” Emryn Payne, the pack clerk, handed me the receipt. Shepherd snatched it from my hands to snap a photo, grinning like a lovesick pup. Emryn gave me a sympathetic glance. Shepherd and I had staged this mock rejection so many times that the staff recognized me on sight.

After a while, Shepherd looked up, his face alight with excitement. He produced a small velvet box and held it out to me. “Brinley, do you think these are stunning?”

“Will Calliope and Noemi like them?” Inside were two expensive rings. I nodded calmly. “They’re stunning.”

I instinctively touched the faint imprint on my ring finger, memories flooding back. A week ago, Calliope and Noemi had thrown fits—one cutting her wrists in a coastal town, the other overdosing abroad—demanding Shepherd propose with the same rings from our marking ceremony.

He had personally ordered these unique rings for me; there was only one pair in existence. He lied, saying he’d sent the rings for maintenance as he took them off while I slept. I knew the truth; both had been flushed down the toilet, all to appease his latest distractions.

As we got into the car, Shepherd instinctively reached for my hand. My interior design had been swapped for pastel shades. Noticing my stare, Shepherd quickly explained, “Those two are so fickle, insisting on a color change. I’ll revert it later.”

I murmured a soft “hmm,” knowing that a rejected mate’s car should naturally change its appearance. It wasn’t just the overwhelming new scent but the trunk filled with flowers that made me sneeze repeatedly, finally drawing his attention from his phone.

Seeing the rash creeping up my neck, he frowned. “I forgot you’re allergic to pollen,” he muttered, instructing the driver to head to the pack healer immediately. But as we stopped at a red light, a call changed his expression to one of concern.

“Pull over!”

He turned to me, his