Rejected While Pregnant' Claimed by the Direwolf Alpha

The stone archway of the Moon Hall looms above Araya Varrow like a mausoleum. Cold air drifts through the open doors, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth. She stands at the threshold in a gown too heavy for her slender frame, ivory silk dragging across the floor as if trying to anchor her in place. The fabric clings to her ribs, to the hollow of her waist, and she feels the weight of it pressing down like judgment itself.

Inside, the pack waits.

Araya hears them before she sees them. Whispers ripple through the hall, low and cutting, meant to be heard.

"Wolf-less."

"Useless bride."

"Why did the Alpha even agree to this?"

Her fingers curl into the bouquet of wolfsbane and silver blooms, thorns biting into her palms. The pain steadies her. She lifts her chin and steps forward.

The hall stretches long and narrow, lined with wooden benches packed with wolves. Their eyes track her movement, cold and unblinking. No one smiles. No one rises to honor her. They sit like judges, waiting to watch her fail.

Araya walks the aisle alone.

Her father, Eldric Varrow, sits near the front, his head bowed. His brown hair has gone gray at the temples, his shoulders slumped beneath the weight of a man who stopped fighting years ago. Beside him, Marisol Vale sits rigid in silk and jewels, her pale gray wolf eyes sharp and dismissive. She does not look at Araya. She never does.

Serenya Vale, Araya's half-sister, leans forward from the second row, honey-blonde hair cascading over one shoulder. Her green eyes glitter with something cold and satisfied. She wears a gown nearly as fine as Araya's, as if she too were the bride.

Araya's gaze flicks away.

At the end of the aisle, beneath the stone altar carved with wolf sigils, stands Jasper Drevyn.

Alpha of the Drevyn Pack. Tall, broad-shouldered, carved from arrogance and ice. His storm-gray eyes lock onto hers, and there is nothing in them. No warmth. No recognition. Just cold assessment, as if she were livestock being led to slaughter.

He wears black, always black, his dark hair cut short and severe. His jaw is sharp, his stance commanding. He does not smile.

Araya reaches the altar and stops.

The elder priest, an old wolf with silver streaks in his beard, raises his hands. His voice echoes through the hall.

"We gather under Araya's Eye to witness the union of Alpha Jasper Drevyn and Araya Varrow. The moon sees all. The bond is eternal."

The words feel hollow.

Araya's hands tremble. She grips the bouquet tighter, thorns cutting deeper. Blood seeps between her fingers, warm and wet.

Jasper does not look at the blood. He looks past her.

The priest continues. "Do you, Jasper Drevyn, Alpha of the Heartlands, take this woman as your mate, your Luna, bound by blood and moon?"

Jasper's voice is flat, clipped. "I do."

The priest turns to Araya. "Do you, Araya Varrow, accept this bond,