Rejected by the Alpha, Claimed by the King

“I, Darius Castellano, future Alpha of the Silverfang Pack, reject you, Serena Moreno, as my mate,” he said, his voice icy and detached.

A sharp, searing pain pierced through me. When Darius Castellano—my mate and the future Alpha of the Silverfang Pack—rejected me, in front of all the pack members, at the coming-of-age ceremony where I’d just learned he was my destined mate, the world didn’t shatter. Not immediately.

No, it was slower than that. Like watching cracks spider across glass, knowing it will break, but powerless to stop it.

For a moment, the room was silent, as if even the air had been sucked out. Then came the murmurs, the whispers, the gasps that felt like knives slicing through me.

The grand hall, which only seconds ago had been filled with laughter and celebration, now felt suffocating. Hundreds of wolves stared at me, their expressions ranging from pity to scorn.

My legs wobbled, but I stood my ground. “No,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

But Darius heard it. He always did. His dark eyes locked on mine, and for a fleeting second, I thought I saw something—hesitation, regret. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by a smirk so cruel it made my stomach churn.

“Did you really think you were worthy of me?” he asked, his voice carrying across the hall.

My heart twisted painfully, and I felt Asha, my wolf, whimper in the back of my mind.

He doesn’t mean it, she said weakly. He can’t.

....

I wanted to believe her, but the way Darius looked at me—with condescension, with disgust—left no room for doubt.

“Look at yourself, Serena,” he continued, his tone sharper now, cutting me open in front of everyone. “Weak. Plain. Unremarkable. The Moon Goddess must have made a mistake.”

The crowd rippled with laughter, their amusement at my expense echoing in my ears.

“Darius, please,” I said, my voice cracking.

“Stop embarrassing yourself,” he snapped, his smirk widening. “Do you think I want someone like you standing beside me as Luna? You’d drag me—and this pack—down with your mediocrity.”

A lump formed in my throat, but I refused to cry. Not here. Not in front of them.

“She’s not Luna material,” someone whispered behind me.

“He’s right. She’s too ordinary,” another said, their words like poison.

And then she stepped forward.

Liana.

The golden-haired princess of the Lycan Kingdom. She was beautiful in a way that felt cruel—perfection carved by the Moon Goddess herself. Every step she took seemed calculated, her smile soft and sweet, though her eyes glinted with triumph.

“Serena,” she said, her voice dripping with sympathy, “I know this must be hard for you. But Darius has to think of the pack. He needs a Luna who can match his strength. Someone... capable.”

Her hand slid over his arm, possessive, claiming him in front of everyone.

“You must be so relieved, though,” she continued, tilting her head like a predator playing with its prey. “Being Luna is