The Alpha's Lost Heir: A Rejected Luna's Revenge

I took a poisoned dagger for my husband, Alpha Jackson, destroying my womb and my health to save his life. I thought my sacrifice made our bond unbreakable.

But three years later, when I miraculously fell pregnant, he didn't celebrate. Instead, he brought me a box of "expensive supplements" to help my condition.

I opened a vial and smelled the acrid, metallic scent of Wolfsbane. He wasn't trying to heal me; he was ensuring I—and the baby he didn't know about—would never wake up.

At the pack ceremony, he publicly humiliated me, pinning the Luna's brooch on his pregnant mistress, Candida. When I protested, he slapped me across the face in front of the entire pack, calling me a useless, barren burden.

He wanted me dead so he could replace me. So, I gave him exactly what he wanted. With the help of a trusted healer, I staged my own death and vanished into the night.

Years later, when I returned as the powerful White Wolf and the cherished mate of the Lycan King, Jackson fell to his knees in front of the world, weeping and begging for me to come home.

I looked down at the man who destroyed me and smiled cold.

"Get up, Jackson. You're embarrassing yourself."

"I'm not your wife anymore; I'm the woman who survived you."

Chapter 1

Elena POV

The velvet of the ceremonial robe weighed heavily in my hands, a physical manifestation of the crushing expectations resting on my shoulders.

I stood in the center of the master bedroom in the Pack House, smoothing out the silver embroidery on the collar. It was Jackson's Alpha ceremony suit. Today, he would officially assume full command of the Bloodmoon Pack. And I, as his Luna, was expected to stand beside him.

A weak, rattling cough escaped my lips.

My chest ached-a dull, throbbing pain that had become my constant companion over the last few months.

"You look pale, Luna Elena," a voice whispered from the doorway.

It was Sarah, one of the younger omegas. She clutched a basket of fresh linens, her knuckles white as she gripped the wicker handle. Her eyes darted around the room, wide and skittish.

"I'm fine, Sarah." I managed a smile, though I felt the strain of it in my cheeks; it certainly didn't reach my eyes. "Just the excitement. Today is a monumental day for Jackson."

Sarah didn't leave.

Instead, she took a tentative step inside, closing the door softly behind her. "Luna... there are rumors. In the kitchen. In the laundry room. Everywhere."

My hands stilled on the velvet fabric.

"What kind of rumors?"

"About Alpha Jackson," she whispered, her voice trembling. "And... Candida."

The name struck me like a physical blow.

Candida. The daughter of a visiting Beta from the south. She had been staying with us for a month now. Beautiful, voluptuous, and vibrant with health. Everything I wasn't.

"They say... they say the Alpha was seen leaving her quarters before dawn," Sarah stammered, looking terrified to even speak the words. "They say he carries her scent."

"Stop," I said, my voice sharper than I intended.

"Jackson is my Fated Mate. The Moon Goddess paired us. He would never betray the bond."

In our world, a Fated Mate is not merely a spouse. It is a soul connection ordained by the deity we worship. When we first met, I had smelled the scent of rain and pine on him-the signature Scent that tells a wolf they have found their other half.

My inner wolf had howled Mine! so loudly it had reverberated through my very bones.

Sarah bowed her head, looking close to tears. "I'm sorry, Luna. I just... I didn't want you to be the last to know."

She left, leaving a cold, suffocating silence in her wake.

I tried to dismiss her words. Servants loved to gossip. Jackson loved me. He had sworn it when I took a poisoned dagger for him three years ago-a blade coated in Silver and Wolfsbane, the two substances most lethal to our kind.

That wound had ravaged my womb and forced my inner wolf into a deep, comatose sleep. I was weak, yes. But I was his savior.

I finished dressing, steeling myself, and made my way to the Great Hall.

The ceremony was deafening.

Drums thrummed in rhythm with the heartbeats of three hundred wolves. The air was thick, heavy with the musk of shifting bodies and raw anticipation.

I stood on the dais, fighting the urge to faint. Jackson stood center stage, radiating power. His Alpha aura was overwhelming, a dominating pressure that forced lower-ranking wolves to bare their necks in submission.

He looked magnificent.

But he wasn't looking at me.

His eyes were locked on the front row of the crowd. On her.

Candida stood there, draped in a dress of crimson silk that clung to her curves like a second skin. She was smiling-a secret, smug curve of her lips that made my stomach turn.

I reached out to Jackson through the Mind-Link.

This telepathic bond is shared by all pack members, but the channel between mates is supposed to be wide, open, and constant.

Jackson? You look wonderful, I projected, wrapping the thought in pure love.

Silence.

It wasn't just that he didn't answer. It was that I hit a wall. A cold, gray static barrier. He had blocked me. He had deliberately shut me out of his mind.

My breath hitched.

An Alpha never blocks his Luna during a ceremony. It is a symbol of their unity.

"I, Jackson, accept the mantle of Alpha," his voice boomed, amplified by the acoustics of the cavernous hall. "I vow to lead this pack to strength. To ensure our lineage is strong."

He paused.

"A pack is only as strong as its future," he continued, his voice dropping an octave, vibrating with intent. "And the Luna's responsibility is to provide that future."

He turned his head.

For a second, I thought he was turning to me. My heart leaped.

But his gaze slid past me, cold and unseeing, and landed back on Candida.

She touched her neck, fingers brushing against her collarbone, and winked.

The crowd noticed.

The whispers started like the buzzing of flies. I saw the pity in the eyes of the Elders. I saw the sneers on the faces of the younger she-wolves who admired Candida's vitality.

My chest constricted. My inner wolf, usually silent in her coma, gave a weak, pathetic whimper in the back of my mind.

He is gone, she seemed to mourn.

I stood there, frozen, a statue of the perfect, supportive wife, while my world began to crack down the middle.

As the ceremony ended and the music for the banquet began, Jackson stepped down from the dais. He walked straight past me.

I turned, desperate to catch his eye, to touch his arm, to feel the sparks that always flew when skin touched skin between mates.

My fingers brushed his sleeve.

He flinched.

He recoiled, pulling his arm away as if I were made of fire. Or filth.

He didn't stop. He walked straight to Candida, placing a possessive hand on the small of her back, guiding her toward the feast.

I stood alone on the stage, the empty throne looming behind me.

And for the first time, I knew Sarah hadn't been lying.

The rumors weren't rumors.

They were a eulogy for my marriage.