Months ago…
🦋ALTHEA
The altar's silver fire flared brighter, mocking me.
"I, Draven Ashbourne, reject you, Althea Nocturne, as my mate and Luna."
His grip on my arm burned—the same arm he'd used to drag me here during the Claiming Hunt.
I looked up at him—sapphire eyes reflecting the Fate Flame, mouth twisted in disgust.
"What?"
Pathetic. I sounded pathetic.
He didn't repeat himself. "You heard me."
Murmurs rippled through the gathered pack. I could hear pieces of what they said about me, my cheeks burning hot with humiliation. I wanted nothing more than to shift and flee into the woods, but I couldn't even do that.
"Wolfless disgrace."
"Omega bitch."
"Useless cunt."
Every word was another chip at my already fracturing heart.
The Vargans stood at the foot of the dais; barefoot, marked, heads lowered. Their silver birthmarks caught the Fate Flame's light in faint, trembling glints. Even they, the pack's chained labor, were granted more dignity than me today. None of them dared look up, but their silence felt louder than the pack's laughter.
"Draven, this is—" My voice cracked as I gestured at the thread of our bond still linking us. A brilliant silver filament, like the Fate Flame the pack lit every Claiming Hunt.
"This is what we've always wanted. We've always known we were meant to be. You have known me, and I you, all our lives." Every syllable sharpened with desperation. "How can you say this now, here—" I gestured to the pack surrounding us. So many stood with their mates, silver threads binding them. "After everything I have—"
For a moment, the disdain in his gaze cracked—horror flickering.
He knew exactly what I was about to say.
What it would do to the pack.
"You are an Omega," he spat, and I flinched. "Wolfless. Disabled. In what world—what delusion—did you think I would ever choose you?"
Still, he refused to let me go as he raised his head and voice to address the pack. "The Silverfang Clan has been raiding our borders."
The mutilated bodies of our gammas flashed in my mind, bile rising in my throat.
"You cannot even shift to escape, much less defend the pack alongside me as my Luna." His lips twitched as he harshly pointed it out.
By the mumbles and nodding that followed, it was obvious they agreed. Elias, the beta, snickered in my direction.
Draven's grip tightened, still refusing to let me go as he publicly tore me apart. "The pack is my first priority. It has always been. For the sake of the pack, I choose a Luna worthy of the title and the responsibility." He made sure his voice boomed, that every ear heard each word.
The unmated women squealed, and my stomach dropped into an abyss. My cheeks flamed, my vision darkened around the edges. I had to leave—had to leave now. This was the last place to show even a sliver of weakness; it would only prove their point.
I twisted my arm, trying to wrench free, but his grip turned bruising. My gaze snapped up to his, confused.
Why wouldn't he just let me go?
Was he afraid of what I would do?
My skin still prickled and itched from their scornful staring. I just wanted to leave. But I was stuck—too weak to free myself—as a voice joined the fray, making me stiffen.
"What is it, Althea?" The hard feminine voice asked, devoid of empathy.
But that was as normal as the sky being blue.
"Is the truth too hard to bear?" she asked, stepping down from the dais. Even now, her footsteps made my skin crawl. My ribs still ached from my last 'session'.
I dropped my gaze, as I'd learned to do long ago, as she stopped in front of me.
"Mother," I murmured.
I could feel her grimace.
She never liked me calling her that.
"Is the fact that you're too weak too much for you to accept? That you'd rather throw a tantrum than simply accept the Alpha's rejection?"
I felt her sharp eyes rake over my form, cataloguing every flaw.
"Look at you," she said coldly. "You can't shift. You can't fight. You can't even stand here with dignity."
She turned to address the pack.
"I am the Head Gamma. I have served this pack for thirty years. And I'm telling you now—" her voice rang out, clear and brutal, "—my daughter is not fit to be Luna."
The words hit like a slap.
"And it is unfortunate that you thought the friendship the Alpha bestowed upon you meant more than it did. Alpha Draven pulled this pack back from the brink. When the Red Fever ravaged our territory, he became our salvation."
Draven's grip turned crushing, enough that I felt my pulse hammer. The message was clearer than the disgust in his eyes.
Open your mouth. I dare you.
I swallowed my words like bitter bile.
"You simply cannot compare," she muttered, voice leaden with condescension.
"If she wants to be Luna so fucking much, maybe she can prove herself by bringing back the Silvermoth's head," Elias said, grinning.
Laughter rippled through the pack.
My face burned. My chest constricted until my lungs felt too cramped to function. I needed air but he still refused to let me go.
Omegas were seen as nothing more than probable sacrifices to the High Alpha. But Draven had been different. He had never treated me like the rest—never humiliated me like this.
It was like looking into the eyes of a stranger.
Like the man I loved no longer existed.
"The Silvermoth would gut her in seconds!" someone shouted.
More laughter.
"She'd probably trip over her own feet before she even found him!"
"Useless Omega."
"Disgrace."
I kept my eyes on the ground. If I looked up—if I let them see my face—I'd break.
And I couldn't break.
Not here.
Not in front of them.
"Enough," Draven said, his voice slicing through the mockery.
The laughter died.
"I didn't reject Althea out of cruelty," he said, addressing the pack. His voice was calm. Measured. "I rejected her because I already made my choice."
My head snapped up so hard my neck popped.
What?
He turned, gesturing toward the gathered crowd.
"I chose my Luna long ago. Someone worthy of the title. Someone strong. Someone who can stand beside me and lead this pack into the future."
No.
Even the Vargans shifted uneasily, the chains at their wrists rattling in the quiet. They weren't allowed to react, not truly, but the tension rolling off them was unmistakable. A new Luna always meant new laws. New punishments. New ways for them to suffer.
No, he wouldn't—
"My Luna," he said, voice ringing with pride, "is Circe Nocturne."
The world tilted.
Circe.
My half-sister.
She stepped forward, and my stomach dropped.
She was already dressed for the ceremony.
A silver gown that caught the Fate Flame's light. Her dark hair braided with flowers. Her blue eyes gleaming as she descended the steps, every movement graceful and deliberate.
Planned.
This was planned.
The rejection.
The humiliation.
The laughter.
All of it was to make her look better by comparison.
Circe reached Draven's side and took his outstretched hand. The Fate Flame flared brighter—not silver this time.
Gold.
Not a fated bond. A chosen one.
But no one cared.
The pack erupted in cheers.
"Luna Circe!"
"Finally, a REAL Luna!"
"She's perfect!"
Circe smiled—radiant, beautiful, everything I wasn't.
And then she looked at me.
Her blue eyes met mine and, for a second, I saw it—the satisfaction. Thick, choking, coating my tongue in bile.
She'd won.
"Congratulations, darling," my mother said, stepping forward to embrace Circe.
Darling.
She'd never called me that.
I should have been used to her coldness. It was all I had ever known.
Circe's smile widened. The creeping darkness at the edges of my vision spread faster.
The pack celebrated.
Draven smiled.
Circe glowed.
And I was—
Nothing.
I'd always been nothing.
But I had never felt it this completely before.
My hand throbbed where Draven still gripped it. My ribs ached. My face burned.
I had to leave.
I had to leave now.
I twisted, trying to pull away, but my wrist was still caught.
I was just too weak to free myself.
So I pulled and yanked against his hold but he refused to let go. He wanted me to stay and suffer, let me burn under their scorn and sardonic taunts.
Pain exploded through my wrist. Something popped.
And then I was free.
A Vargan lurched instinctively when I tore myself loose—trained to intercept any fleeing pack member—but he froze mid-step as Thal grabbed his arm, holding him back.
The chains binding them clattered softly in the sudden silence, mirroring the pounding in my ears. For one heartbeat, Thal met my gaze—wide-eyed, helpless, apology written in every trembling line of his body.
And then I ran.
I fled into the woods, cold air knifing my lungs, the cheers of the pack fading behind me like a nightmare I couldn't wake from.