Broken by the Alpha, Reborn as Queen

I was the Luna of Silver Lake, yet I spent my mornings cooking eggs for my Alpha mate while his mistress, Keyla, sat in my rightful seat.

I endured the humiliation for the sake of the bond, until the day my mother found Keyla poisoning the pack's water supply.

To hide her crime, Keyla murdered my mother in cold blood.

I screamed for justice, begging Garrison to open his eyes.

But he didn't look at the evidence. He looked at the merger Keyla’s father offered.

"She's hysterical," he told the guards, stepping over my mother's body to protect his mistress.

To seal their alliance, he dragged me to the Great Hall and publicly rejected me, severing our soul-bond to sell me off to a sadistic Alpha for mining rights.

He expected me to beg. He expected the weak, bloodline-cursed Omega to crumble.

Instead, I accepted the rejection with a smile.

That night, I drank a potion to erase my scent and threw myself into the storm, faking my death.

Garrison thinks I’m a corpse at the bottom of a cliff, and rumors say he’s finally drowning in regret.

He has no idea that the pain didn't kill me. It triggered the ancient, legendary blood of the White Wolf.

Now, standing on the ridge with a Rogue mercenary army, I’m no longer the wife who cooks breakfast.

I’m the monster at his gates, and I won't stop until his entire world is ash.

Chapter 1

Janette POV

Hot grease spat from the skillet, searing the back of my hand.

I didn't flinch.

Pain was a familiar friend in the Silver Lake Pack house. It was certainly a more constant companion than the warmth of a mate’s affection.

I plated the eggs, sunny side up, just the way Garrison liked them. My movements were mechanical, a routine honed over three years of suffocating silence. I was the Luna of this pack by title, but here in the kitchen, wearing a stained apron while the Omegas whispered in the hallway, I knew my true place.

I was an anomaly. A glitch in the Moon Goddess's design.

I touched the scar on my neck. The Mate Marking. It should have been a symbol of eternal devotion, a claim that told every other male wolf to back off because I belonged to the Alpha. But Garrison’s teeth had sunk into me with reluctance, not passion. It was a political necessity, nothing more.

I carried the tray into the dining room. The morning sun streamed through the high windows, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. Garrison sat at the head of the long mahogany table. He didn't look up. He was reading a human financial newspaper, his brow furrowed.

"Breakfast," I said softly.

"Hmn."

That was it. No *Good morning*. No *How did you sleep?* Just a grunt of acknowledgement that a servant had delivered fuel.

I sat at the far end of the table, the distance between us feeling like miles of frozen