Abandoned by My Alpha, Carrying His Heir

Alaric

I never chose Elena Frost as my mate.

Three years ago, when I officially took control of the Ashbourne Pack, my authority was still being tested. Power alone wasn't enough. The elders watched every of my decision, allied packs measured my stability, and my enemies were lurking, waiting for a single misstep.

An Alpha without a Luna was a flaw in the hierarchy-an imbalance that could never be respected.

That was when my grandmother stepped in-ending the discussion before it become a debate.

Patricia Ashbourne, my grandmother, had ruled this pack long before I did. Even after stepping down, her word remained absolute. She told me that the pack demanded stability, not love. Her role was to quiet unrest, secure power, and end all talk.

I objected once.

Yet, she reminded me that Alpha authority was not about personal preference. It was about power and dominance.

Elena Frost was her chosen candidate.

She bore a rare ancestral wolf bloodline-one said to steady an Alpha's power. Yet when I met her, I could barely feel her aura, so faint it was almost absent. And when the elders chose her, I could not fathom why. She was no vision of strength, no beauty to command a room-only a body weighed down by weakness, a Luna unworthy of the title.

For Grandma, she embodied the ideal Luna.

For me, she was a parasite clinging to my name, feeding on what will never hers.

The moment, I agreed, the ceremony took place right away under my grandmother's guidance.

A bond in name only. No blood oath. No instinctual claiming. A marriage acknowledge by the pack but never sealed by the Moon.

~

Elena

The Ashbourne ancestral hall was silent, the atmosphere were heavy. White funeral banners hung from the beams, embroided with ancient runes that glowed faintly under the dim lights-symbols meant to guide a departed wolf's soul back to the Moon.

Incense burned low, its bitter scent clinging to the air, mixing with the restrained pheromones of dozens high-ranking wolves gathered in one place.

Pack elders, Alpha from allied packs, and the Ashbourne-were all present.

And the Luna itself.

Me.

I stood at the very front, dressed in black, my hands folded neatly over my abdomen. Every movement I made was careful, controlled-like how grandmother had taught me how Luna should behave.

Patricia Ashbourne's portrait loomed above the altar. Her sharp eyes, captured in oil and shadow, almost seemed alive, as if she were still watching, still judging.

"You promised me you'd stay," her echoed in my memory. "No matter what happens."

My fingers curled slightly.

I indeed stayed.

For three years.

I had stayed in an unmated marriage. Stayed to an Alpha mate who never came home. Stayed despite the endless whispers about a "useless Luna" whose wolf aura was too weak to be felt. Stayed when they not only humiliate that I was a Luna in name only-but also mock my appearance.

About the body I once carried, heavy and