After My Alpha Replaced Me With His First Love

The moon hung heavy and full in the sky, casting a silver glow over the Blood Moon Pack grounds. Tonight was the Mate Ceremony, the most sacred night of the year, and my hands wouldn't stop trembling. I smoothed down the front of my simple white dress for the hundredth time. I had sewn it myself, stitch by careful stitch, praying that tonight, after seven long years of waiting, Alpha Dante would finally claim me properly.

Everyone said Omegas were weak. They said we were meant to serve, to bow, to disappear into the background. But for seven years, Dante had kept me by his side. He hadn't marked me—not yet—but he called me his chosen. He let me sleep in his bed, let me soothe his rages, let me believe that I mattered. Tonight, I thought, tonight he would finally give me the Moon Flower. Tonight, I would become his Luna.

"Nervous, Dalia?" a voice sneered behind me.

I turned to see Gamma Marcus, his eyes gleaming with something I couldn't quite place. Malice? Pity? "It's a big night, Gamma," I whispered, clutching my hands together to stop the shaking.

"It certainly is," he chuckled, pushing past me toward the front of the crowd. "Big night for everyone."

Music swelled from the orchestra, silencing the murmurs of the gathered pack. The heavy oak doors of the Alpha's manor swung open, and there he was. Dante.

My breath hitched. He looked like a god in his ceremonial black suit, his dark hair swept back, his jaw set in that hard, commanding line I knew so well. In his hands, he carried it—the Moon Flower. Its petals glowed with a faint, ethereal blue light, pulsating like a heartbeat. It only bloomed once a year, and it was the ultimate symbol of a fated bond.

He began to walk down the aisle, his gaze intense. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. *He's coming for me,* I told myself. *He's finally going to do it.*

I took a small step forward, ready to receive him. I was standing in the front row, right where he had told me to stand. I prepared my smile, the one he said he liked because it was quiet and obedient.

Dante drew closer. I could smell his scent—rain and cedar—and my inner wolf wagged her tail, whimpering in adoration. I reached out a hand, just slightly.

And then, he walked past me.

The air left my lungs in a rush. It wasn't a mistake. He didn't stumble. He didn't pause. He walked right past me as if I were invisible. As if I were nothing more than a ghost haunting the edges of his life.

The silence in the hall was deafening. I turned slowly, my vision blurring, watching as Dante continued to the very back of the hall. A figure stood there, cloaked in heavy velvet. Dante stopped before her and dropped to one knee.

"For seven years, I have waited," Dante's