Rejected by Her Mate

The scent of dust and old memories filled my lungs as I pushed open the door to my mother's private chamber. Five years since her passing, and Alpha Michael had insisted we keep it untouched—a shrine to the previous Luna. I'd believed it was out of respect. Now I wasn't so sure about anything anymore.

I needed her moonstone pendant today. The weight of it against my chest always steadied me during pack meetings, a small comfort as I watched my position as Luna erode day by day. The silver chain would catch the light just so, reminding me of who I was—who I was supposed to be.

The door creaked open, and I froze. Michael stood at my mother's antique vanity, the carved mahogany piece that had been in the Thompson family for generations. His fingers—the same ones that once traced my cheekbones with reverence—were carelessly rifling through my mother's moonstone collection.

"What are you doing?" My voice came out smaller than I intended.

Michael didn't even startle. He turned slowly, a familiar half-smile on his face that once made my heart race but now sent ice through my veins.

"Claire." Just my name. Not Luna, not love, not mate. Just Claire. "I was just looking through these. Some beautiful pieces here."

In his palm rested my mother's moonstone earrings—the ones she wore at her own mating ceremony. The ones she'd promised would be mine to wear when I had a daughter of my own.

"Isabella's been admiring moonstones lately," he continued, his tone casual as if discussing the weather. "I thought these would suit her."

Something howled inside me—not a sound, but a feeling. My wolf, Lyra, thrashing against the walls of my consciousness. *He wouldn't dare. He couldn't.*

"Those are my mother's," I said, each word a shard of glass in my throat. "They're meant to stay in my family."

Michael's eyes hardened, just slightly. "We're all family here, Claire. And as Alpha, these belongings fall under pack property."

Pack property. My mother's treasures. My inheritance. Reduced to *pack property* to be handed to the woman who had systematically replaced me in my mate's eyes, in my home, in my life.

"I need to speak with you." I turned, not waiting for his response, my feet carrying me swiftly through the hallways of what had once been my sanctuary.

The pack library was empty this time of day, sunlight streaming through stained glass windows that cast colorful patterns across ancient tomes of werewolf history. I waited, my back to the door, gathering the fragments of my dignity around me like armor.

His footsteps approached—two sets. Of course. Isabella was never far these days.

"What is it now, Claire?" Michael's voice held that edge of impatience that had become so familiar.

I turned, and something in me shifted. A silver light swirled around me—my Luna aura, responding to my rage, my pain, my final breaking point. Seven years as Luna of the Silvermoon Pack had taught me to