After My Mate Humiliated Me, the Lycan King Claimed Me

I stood at the back of Shadowcrest's great hall with my hands folded in front of me, trying to make myself invisible. The worn plush wolf was tucked in my dress pocket, its soft fabric pressing against my palm through the thin cotton. My only decent dress—a simple gray thing I'd scrubbed clean three times this week—felt suddenly shabby under the firelight that danced across the stone walls and made everything look golden and warm.

The hall was packed. Warriors lined the walls in formal dress, their mates beside them in gowns that shimmered. The Elders sat in the front rows, their faces stern and proud. Former Luna Eleanor Griffin stood to the right of the raised platform, her silver hair pulled back tight, her expression carved from ice. She wore midnight blue, and diamonds glinted at her throat.

My heart hammered so hard I thought everyone could hear it.

Tonight was Bellamy's Alpha Ascension Ceremony. Tonight, he would take his father's place as Alpha of Shadowcrest Pack. And tonight—I pressed my hand harder against the plush wolf—tonight he would finally claim me. Publicly. As his Luna. As his fated mate.

Ten years. Ten years of secret meetings in the old storage room behind the kitchens. Ten years of stolen kisses in the forest when no one was watching. Ten years of him whispering, "You're mine, Kenna. The Moon Goddess chose you for me. I just need time. When I'm Alpha, everything will be different."

I believed him. I had to.

Because the alternative—that I'd spent a decade scrubbing floors and taking beatings and swallowing humiliation for a man who was ashamed of me—was too much to hold.

The drums started. Deep, rhythmic, shaking the floor.

Bellamy stepped onto the platform.

He wore black, formal and sharp, his dark hair swept back, his jaw set. He looked every inch the Alpha he was born to be. Strong. Commanding. My wolf stirred inside me—sluggish and weak as always, but present. She recognized him. Mate, she whispered. Ours.

I smiled. My eyes burned, but I smiled.

The Elder Council's leader, a gray-bearded man named Aldric, stepped forward with the ceremonial blade. The hall fell silent. Bellamy knelt. Aldric spoke the old words, the ones about strength and sacrifice and the Moon Goddess's blessing. He drew the blade across Bellamy's palm. Blood welled up, dark and red. Bellamy didn't flinch.

"Rise, Alpha Bellamy Griffin," Aldric said, his voice ringing through the hall. "Leader of Shadowcrest Pack."

Bellamy stood. The crowd erupted—cheers, howls, fists pounding against chests. I stayed quiet, my throat too tight to make a sound. My eyes tracked him as he turned to face the pack, his gaze sweeping across the rows of wolves.

This was it. This was the moment.

He would call me forward. He would take my hand. He would tell everyone that I was his Luna, his fated mate, the one the Moon Goddess had chosen for him. And all the years of being invisible, of being nothing, would finally mean something.

Bellamy's mouth opened.

"Tonight," he said, his voice strong and clear, "I stand before you not only as your Alpha, but as a wolf who understands that leadership requires sacrifice. It requires putting the pack above personal desire."

I frowned. My stomach twisted.

"Shadowcrest has always been strong," Bellamy continued. "But to remain strong, we must forge alliances. We must think beyond our borders and secure our future."

No.

No, this wasn't—

"That is why," Bellamy said, his eyes still scanning the crowd but never landing on me, "I am honored to announce my chosen mate and your future Luna—Blakely Castillo, daughter of Alpha Garrett Castillo of Goldcrest Pack."

The world stopped.

A door opened to the left of the platform. A woman stepped through.

She was beautiful. Tall, with honey-colored hair that fell in perfect waves over her shoulders. She wore a gown in deep forest green—Shadowcrest's color—custom-made, fitted, elegant. Diamonds sparkled at her ears and throat. She smiled as she walked toward the platform, her chin high, her movements graceful and confident.

She positioned herself exactly where I could see her.

Bellamy extended his hand. Blakely took it. She ascended the platform and stood beside him, and the crowd erupted again—louder this time, approving, celebrating.

I couldn't breathe.

My hand was still in my pocket, still gripping the plush wolf. My vision blurred. The cheers around me sounded like they were coming from underwater, distant and distorted.

Bellamy's arm slipped around Blakely's waist. She leaned into him, her smile widening. She looked out at the crowd like a queen surveying her kingdom.

Her eyes found mine.

And she smiled.

Not a warm smile. Not a kind smile.

A smile that said, I won.

My knees buckled. I caught myself on the wall, my fingers scraping against cold stone. No one noticed. Everyone was watching the platform, watching Bellamy and his perfect chosen Luna, watching the alliance that would make Shadowcrest stronger.

No one was watching the Omega girl at the back of the hall whose heart was breaking into a thousand pieces.

I turned. I pushed through the crowd, my vision swimming, my chest so tight I thought my ribs would crack. I made it to the corridor outside the great hall before the tears came—hot and fast and choking.

He lied.

He lied.

Ten years. Ten years, and it was all a lie.