Chapter 3
Night had fallen by the time I dragged myself back to my quarters, my body still aching from the loss of our pup. The hallways of the pack house were unnaturally quiet, as if the very walls were holding their breath. When I reached the door to my room—our room—a wave of wrongness hit me before I even touched the handle.
Something had changed.
I pushed the door open and froze. Sarah's floral scent assaulted me, overwhelming any trace of my own presence. My belongings had been moved—no, not moved. Discarded. My dresses were piled carelessly in the corner, some already torn as if deemed unworthy of salvaging. The photos of Michael and me that had adorned the dresser were gone, replaced by crystal bottles of Sarah's perfumes and medicines.
"No," I whispered, stumbling forward as Luna whimpered weakly inside me.
My gaze fell on the bedside table where I always kept a candle burning beside the handwritten sheet music of my mother's lullaby—the one she used to sing to me as a child, the one I had planned to sing to our pup. The candle was extinguished, the sheet music crumpled and tossed aside like garbage.
With trembling hands, I retrieved the paper, smoothing it carefully as tears blurred my vision. This small piece of my mother, of my past, was all I had left.
"I wouldn't bother with that," Sarah's cool voice came from behind me. "The pack has no use for Moonstone Pack sentimentality."
I turned to face her, clutching the sheet music to my chest. She stood in the doorway, her white healer's coat pristine, her dark hair falling in perfect waves around her shoulders. She looked like she belonged here—and I was the intruder.
"These are my quarters," I managed, my voice barely above a whisper.
Sarah's lips curved into a smile that never reached her eyes. "Were your quarters. Alpha Michael has requested I make myself comfortable here." She stepped inside, running her fingers possessively along the dresser. "I've already disposed of most of your... clutter. You can take what's left."
Luna snarled weakly, but I couldn't summon the strength to challenge Sarah. Not now, not when I was still bleeding from the loss of my pup—a loss I was beginning to suspect wasn't natural at all.
"Where am I supposed to go?" I asked, hating the broken quality in my voice.
"The Omega quarters have a spare room," she replied with cruel indifference. "Fitting, don't you think?"
I gathered what remained of my belongings—a few dresses, my mother's lullaby, a small wooden box of keepsakes—and left without another word. Each step felt like walking through deep water, my body numb with shock and grief.
The dinner bell rang as I descended the stairs, summoning pack members to the great hall for the evening meal. My instinct was to retreat, to hide away in the Omega quarters where no one would see my shame. But Luna, weak as she was, pushed me forward.
*We are still Luna,* she whispered. *Until he formally rejects us.*
The great hall fell silent as I entered. Dozens of eyes turned to me, some pitying, others cold with judgment. I took my usual seat at the head table, ignoring the whispers that followed me like shadows. Minutes later, Sarah swept in, her white coat exchanged for an elegant blue dress that highlighted her curves. She took the seat beside mine—the Luna's seat—with practiced grace.
"I've just completed my examination of Luna Rachel," she announced to the table of senior pack members, her voice carrying just enough to reach the closest tables. "I'm afraid the news isn't good."
I stared at my empty plate, unable to lift my eyes as she continued her performance.
"The pup she lost..." Sarah paused dramatically, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper that was still perfectly audible. "The timing doesn't align with Alpha Michael's cycles. And there are certain... markers in her blood that suggest she may have been with another wolf."
Gasps rippled through the hall. I felt the weight of accusation pressing down on me, suffocating me.
"That's a lie," I whispered, but my voice was lost in the growing murmurs.
Sarah placed a hand on my arm, her fingers digging painfully into my skin. "It's not your fault," she said loudly, her tone dripping with false sympathy. "Some she-wolves simply aren't meant to be Lunas. Their wolves seek... other arrangements."
The hall doors crashed open, silencing the whispers instantly. Michael stood in the entrance, his massive frame blocking the light from the corridor. His eyes found me immediately, burning with a rage I had never seen before.
"Rachel," he growled, the sound reverberating through the silent hall. "Come here."
Luna cowered within me as I rose on shaking legs. Every step toward him felt like walking to my execution. When I reached him, he gripped my arm with bruising force, dragging me into the center of the hall where all could witness what was to come.
"I, Alpha Michael Morrison," he began, his voice thundering through the space, each word a physical blow, "reject you, Rachel Morrison, as my mate."
His Alpha aura crashed over me like a tidal wave, crushing the breath from my lungs. The mate bond, already weakened by his betrayal, began to tear—a physical, excruciating pain that dropped me to my knees. Through tears of agony, I saw Sarah watching with thinly veiled triumph.
"You brought this on yourself," Michael snarled, his hand closing around my throat as he lifted me to my feet. "Trying to pass another wolf's pup as mine?"
"It was yours," I gasped, clawing at his hand. "I never—"
With a roar of rage, he shoved me backward. I stumbled, losing my balance, and crashed into the stone hearth. My head struck the edge with a sickening crack, and warmth spread across my scalp as blood seeped into my hair.
I lay there, dazed and broken, as my blood pooled on the frozen tiles of the great hall. Through blurring vision, I watched Michael turn away, his arm sliding possessively around Sarah's waist.
"Get her out of my territory by dawn," he commanded no one in particular. "Or I'll have her hunted down like the traitor she is."
As darkness closed in around me, Luna's fading voice whispered one final truth:
*We were never truly his.*
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