Abandoned Luna's Rebirth

The howl of the emergency siren tore through the pre-dawn quiet, yanking me from uneasy sleep. Ryan's side of the bed was cold—he hadn't returned last night after our confrontation. Silver stirred within me, instantly alert, her senses already reaching outward to assess the threat.

"Rogues at the eastern border!" The voice of Delta Kaden echoed through the pack house communication system. "All warriors to defensive positions!"

I was on my feet before the announcement finished, pulling on combat gear with practiced efficiency. Seven years as Luna had taught me to respond to threats without hesitation. Whatever was happening between Ryan and me, the pack still needed its Luna.

Silver pushed against my consciousness, eager to take form. *Let me out. Let me fight.* I didn't resist. The shift rippled through me—bones realigning, muscles stretching, my human form giving way to the sleek silver-gray wolf that was my other half.

I raced through the corridors, following the scent of fear and urgency. Pack members parted as I passed, their faces showing relief at the sight of their Luna responding to the threat. Outside, chaos reigned. Warriors were streaming toward the eastern perimeter, while frightened pack members retreated to the safety of the inner compounds.

*Ryan?* I reached through our mate bond, feeling his adrenaline spike in response. He was already in wolf form, directing the defense. Good. Whatever his failings as a mate, he was still our Alpha.

I charged toward the eastern boundary, Silver's powerful legs eating up the distance. The scent of unfamiliar wolves—dirty, aggressive, desperate—grew stronger. Rogues. At least a dozen of them, judging by the cacophony of growls and snarls ahead.

The battle scene came into view as I crested the ridge. Our warriors were engaged with a ragged band of wolves—larger than usual for rogues, their fur matted and eyes wild with hunger. This wasn't a random attack. This was coordinated, strategic.

I didn't hesitate. Silver launched us into the fray, targeting a massive gray rogue who had pinned one of our younger Deltas. My jaws clamped around his throat, the metallic taste of blood filling my mouth as I dragged him off our warrior. The rogue twisted, surprisingly agile, his claws raking across my flank. Pain seared through me, but Silver barely registered it, already pivoting to face his counterattack.

For precious minutes, there was only the primal rhythm of combat—lunge, tear, dodge, bite. Silver moved with practiced precision, her fighting instincts honed through years of training. Three rogues fell before us, their attacks growing more desperate as they recognized the power of an Alpha female.

A fourth rogue—the largest I'd seen—circled us, intelligence gleaming in his yellow eyes. He wasn't mindless with hunger like the others. He was calculating, waiting. When he struck, it was with terrifying speed, his massive body slamming into mine. We rolled across the blood-soaked grass, jaws snapping, claws tearing. Pain exploded across my back as his claws found purchase, carving deep furrows through fur and flesh.

Silver howled in rage and pain but didn't yield. We twisted beneath him, finding leverage, and tore into his exposed underbelly. The rogue's howl of agony split the air as he stumbled back, blood pouring from the wound. I pressed the advantage, driving him back toward the territorial boundary, where two of our Deltas joined the attack. Together, we forced him into retreat.

As the massive rogue fled, the remaining attackers followed, melting back into the forest beyond our borders. Victory, but at a cost. I stood panting, blood—both mine and theirs—matting my silver fur. The deep wounds across my back throbbed with each heartbeat, but pride surged through me. We had defended our territory.

Then, through our mate bond, I felt Ryan's spike of panic—sharp and urgent. *Sarah?* His voice in my mind was distant, distracted. I sent reassurance back through the bond, letting him know I was injured but alive.

I expected him to come to me. To check on his Luna, his mate of seven years, bleeding on the battlefield.

Instead, I felt his presence moving away—racing westward with desperate speed. Confusion and hurt bloomed as I realized he wasn't coming. Through our fading connection, I caught fragments of his thoughts: *Chloe... have to reach her... please be safe...*

Silver whimpered as understanding dawned. There had been a second attack—at the western boundary. And Ryan had chosen. Not his injured Luna, but his mistress with what I would later learn was nothing more than a superficial scratch.

"Luna Sarah!" Elara, our pack healer, rushed to my side, her face tight with concern as she took in my injuries. "You need treatment immediately. These wounds are deep."

I shifted back to human form, the transformation sending fresh waves of agony through my lacerated back. Blood soaked through my torn clothing as Elara helped me toward the healer's den.

"The Alpha..." one of the younger warriors began, looking around in confusion. "Shouldn't he be here?"

"He had to check the western border," Elara answered too quickly, not meeting my eyes. "There was another attack there."

But the whispers had already begun as warriors helped carry their wounded Luna to the healing den. I heard them clearly, each hushed word another wound deeper than any rogue's claws.

"He left her bleeding to check on that young she-wolf..."

"Did you see how fast he ran when he heard Chloe was there?"

"Our Luna fought like a true Alpha while he..."

The whispers followed us to the healer's den, where Elara's gentle hands cleaned and dressed my wounds. Each apologetic glance from the pack members, each sideways look of pity, hammered home the truth that everyone now knew.

My mate, my Alpha, had chosen another over me—not just in private, but in battle, when it mattered most. The public humiliation burned hotter than any physical pain.

Silver's voice resonated within me, no longer broken but cold with resolve: *We do not stay where we are not valued. We do not fight for those who will not fight for us.*

As I lay on the healing table, feeling my flesh knit together under Elara's care, something else was hardening within me—a decision, crystallizing with every whispered condolence, with every averted gaze.

This was the last time Alpha Ryan Mitchell would ever make me feel worthless.