Rejected Luna's Final Escape

I had been kneeling until my legs felt like they were about to give out when a pack warrior arrived to escort me to Marcelo. As soon as I stepped out of the car, the scent of sizzling meat hit me, and I realized we were at a high-end steakhouse, packed with patrons and filled with the rich aroma of grilled food. Virginia spotted me immediately, her golden eyes gleaming with mischief as she waved me over. Slowly, I dragged my bruised and swollen legs to her table, my head bowed in submission.

With a sly grin, she pointed at me and announced to the group, "This is the Omega who tends to me. You might recognize her—she’s the Luna of the Silver Moon Pack."

The faces around the table shifted, a mix of pity and thinly veiled disdain. Virginia pouted dramatically and gestured to a plate of shrimp cocktail. "Luna, peel the shrimp for me."

I forced a polite smile, though my hands trembled. "I’m sorry, Virginia. I’m allergic to shellfish. I can’t do that for you."

Her lips curled into a pout, and she turned her gaze to Marcelo, who sat at the head of the table, his broad frame exuding dominance. He swirled his wine glass, his dark eyes locking onto mine with a smirk. "What’s the matter, Alyssa? Would you prefer to kneel here instead?"

"Or perhaps you’d like a drink? We seem to be missing a drinking partner at this table."

I knew Marcelo wasn’t going to let this go. He never did. So, I steeled myself and nodded, my voice steady despite the ache in my chest. "Alright, I’ll drink."

I grabbed the bottle of whiskey he indicated, ignoring the sharp burn as I downed it like water. My wolf whimpered in the back of my mind, but I silenced her, forcing myself to keep going.

By the tenth bottle, the pack members around the table began to intervene. "Alpha, that’s enough. We’re just here to enjoy a meal, not to harm anyone."

Marcelo’s jaw tightened, his alpha aura flaring as he leaned forward, his voice cold and cutting. "I’m curious to see how much she can handle."

My tolerance was high; at least, I remained conscious until I finished the twentieth bottle. On the way to the pack’s infirmary, the healer diagnosed me with alcohol poisoning, her tone laced with concern. But I barely registered her words, my body burning with fever and my legs screaming in pain.

Lying on the cot, I couldn’t stop the tears from spilling over. My wolf stirred again, her soft voice echoing in my mind. *He doesn’t mean it. He’s hurting too.* But I didn’t believe her. Not anymore.

A gentle voice beside me asked what was wrong. I choked out, "Marcelo, my leg hurts so much."

The next moment, I felt a warm hand gently massaging my leg, the touch so tender it almost made me forget the pain. Comforted, I closed my eyes and drifted into a restless sleep.

In my dream, I was back at Moonstone Academy, where Marcelo and I had first met. He was the future Alpha, and I was just an Omega, but we had been inseparable. Our bond had felt unbreakable, our love pure and all-consuming.

But everything changed after the accident. My parents had lost control of their car, colliding with Marcelo’s parents’ vehicle. None of them survived. After that, Marcelo’s heart turned to stone. He mated me not out of love, but out of revenge. I knew the truth about my first six pups—it was Marcelo who had poisoned me, causing their deaths.

For years, I endured his cruelty, hoping that one day he would let go of his hatred and we could start anew. But seven years and seven lost pups later, all I had to show for it was a body scarred by pain and a heart shattered beyond repair. I was tired of waiting. I didn’t want to wait anymore.

I woke up again in the hospital, the sterile smell of antiseptic burning my nostrils.

Marcelo, my mate and the Alpha of the Silver Moon Pack, was sitting next to me, his broad frame slouched in the chair. His dark eyes flickered with something unreadable as he noticed I was awake. Then, that familiar sardonic grin spread across his face, sharp and mocking.

"What? Trying to hurt yourself just to make me feel guilty, Luna?" His voice carried the weight of his alpha tone, a command laced with cruelty. "You're barking up the wrong tree."

The memory of last night’s fleeting tenderness felt like a distant dream. Maybe Marcelo only showed a shred of affection when I couldn’t see it. But it didn’t matter anymore. Not to me.

I pushed myself up, my body aching, ready to leave the hospital. Before I could stand, Marcelo’s phone rang, the sound cutting through the silence like a blade. His expression darkened as he answered, his jaw tightening with every word.

"Did you give Virginia some tainted food yesterday?" His voice was low, dangerous. "The healer says she’s showing signs of a miscarriage!"

Virginia, the Omega he doted on, hadn’t even touched the food I prepared. Marcelo knew that. But guilt didn’t need logic, and he was too consumed by his own panic to think clearly. Without waiting for my response, he grabbed my arm, his grip bruising, and dragged me to the maternity ward.

As we reached the ground floor, Virginia’s cries echoed down the hallway. She threw herself into Marcelo’s arms, her golden hair cascading over his broad shoulders. Her voice was a pitiful whimper, her eyes wide with fear.

"Alpha, what am I going to do? The healer said I ate something bad. I need a blood transfusion to save the pup! The hospital has run out of extra blood bags!"

Marcelo’s gaze snapped to me, cold and calculating. His smirk was cruel, his alpha tone slicing through the air like a command.

"Virginia, don’t worry. We’ve got the Luna here, our personal blood bank."

He yanked me forward, his grip unrelenting, and shoved me toward the healer.

"However much blood Virginia needs, take it from her."

The healer hesitated, glancing between Marcelo and me, but the Alpha’s command was absolute. The cold syringes pierced my skin, vial after vial draining me. My blood flowed steadily toward Virginia, leaving me cold, weak, and silent.

Virginia nestled in Marcelo’s embrace, his large frame engulfing her as he whispered reassurances. She was fighting for her life, while I was teetering on the edge of collapse.

Just as I thought I might be drained dry, the hospital finally received more blood supplies. The healer stepped back, and I stumbled away, my legs trembling beneath me. My face was pale, my body frail, but I walked out step by step, refusing to look back at Marcelo.

For the first time, Marcelo seemed to notice how fragile I truly was. His eyes lingered on me, a flicker of something—regret, perhaps—crossing his face before it was gone, replaced by the cold indifference I had grown used to.

But I didn’t care. Not anymore.