After My Alpha’s Betrayal, The Lycan King Claimed Me

The camera flashes were blinding, a relentless storm of lightning that left spots dancing in my vision. I forced the corners of my mouth upward, plastering on the smile I had practiced in the mirror a thousand times. It was the smile of a future Luna—perfect, poised, and completely hollow.

"Closer," a photographer shouted from the press pit.

Alpha Adrian Hayes tightened his grip on my waist. To the world, it looked like a possessive, loving embrace. To me, it was a vice. His fingers dug into the silk of my dress, bruising the skin beneath.

"Smile brighter, Haisley," he hissed in my ear, his voice a low growl only I could hear. "You look like a corpse. Do not embarrass me."

I widened my smile until my cheeks ached. "Yes, Alpha," I whispered, the words tasting like ash.

We were the Silver Moon Pack’s "power couple." The strong, hereditary Alpha and his loyal childhood sweetheart. It was a lie. A beautiful, glittering lie constructed to keep the pack alliances stable while Adrian secured his real future elsewhere. I was just the prop.

"That’s a wrap!" someone yelled.

The moment the cameras cut, Adrian released me as if I burned him. The warmth in his eyes vanished, replaced by the cold indifference that had defined my life since his wolf awakened and mine... didn't.

"Get out of that dress," he commanded, turning his back on me to check his phone. "It costs more than your life. Don't wrinkle it."

"I—I will, Alpha," I stammered, clutching my side where his fingers had left their mark.

"And report to the Alpha Suite immediately," he added, not looking up. "Jayla says her ankles are swollen again. She needs a massage."

My heart fractured a little more, though I thought there was nothing left to break. "Understood."

Twenty minutes later, the silk gown was back in its garment bag, and I was dressed in my reality: the rough, grey uniform of a servant. I climbed the stairs to the Alpha Suite, my legs heavy. This was the house where my mother had served, where she had been broken by the former Alpha. Now, history was repeating itself.

I knocked softly.

"Enter," Jayla’s voice drawled.

The suite smelled suffocatingly of vanilla and synthetic roses. Jayla Stevens, Adrian’s chosen mate, was lounged on the velvet chaise, rubbing her rounded belly. She looked at me with a smirk that didn't reach her eyes.

"Took you long enough," she snapped. "My feet are killing me. The heir is active today."

I knelt at her feet without a word, pouring oil into my hands. As I began to knead her swollen ankles, Jayla let out a deliberate puff of air, releasing her scent. It was potent, thick with pheromones designed to assert dominance. For a wolf like me—dormant, weak, an Omega in all but name—it was nauseating. It made my head spin with static.

"Careful with those rough hands," Jayla sneered, leaning forward. "I suppose it’s a blessing you’re