After My Mate Replaced Me with His New Luna

The neutral territory was a graveyard of trees, their skeletal branches clawing at a sky that refused to show the moon. I had been running for two days, fueled by spite and the scavenged berries that cramped my empty stomach. My human legs were heavy, screaming for rest, but the snap of a twig behind me sent a jolt of adrenaline straight to my heart.

I wasn't alone.

I didn't need a wolf’s hearing to know they were there. The stench of unwashed fur and rotting meat drifted on the wind—rogues. Two of them. I could hear their heavy panting, the wet slap of paws hitting the mud. They were toying with me, herding me like a lost sheep before the slaughter.

I touched the scar on my throat. I couldn't shift. I couldn't scream for help. To them, I was just meat. But they didn't know who I used to be. I wasn't just an Omega; I was trained to be a Luna.

I didn't run blindly. I visualized the terrain map I had memorized years ago during border tactic drills. Three hundred yards north was the Devil’s Drop—a narrow ravine hidden by dense brush.

I forced my tired legs to pump harder, feigning a stumble. A low growl erupted from the shadows to my left. A massive grey wolf lunged, snapping its jaws inches from my ankle. I scrambled up, gasping, playing the part of the terrified prey. I veered sharp right, heading straight for the brush line.

They took the bait. Both wolves broke from the cover, their eyes glowing with bloodlust, abandoning stealth for the kill. They were faster than me, gaining ground with every second. I could hear the whistle of air in their lungs.

*Ten yards.*

I saw the subtle dip in the ground that marked the ravine’s edge.

*Five yards.*

The lead wolf launched himself into the air, aiming for my back.

*Now.*

I dropped flat, sliding beneath the undergrowth just as his massive body sailed over me. He expected solid ground. He found only air. A yelp of surprise was cut short by the sickening crunch of bone against rock at the bottom of the ravine. The second wolf, unable to stop his momentum on the slick mud, scrabbled frantically at the edge before gravity claimed him too.

I lay in the dirt, chest heaving, listening to the silence return. I wasn't weak. I was a survivor.

It took another day of limping through the mist before the trees finally broke. The air changed first—the smell of rot replaced by the crisp scent of snow and ancient sage. I stumbled into a valley that seemed to glow with its own light. In the center stood a stone cabin, smoke curling from its chimney.

My vision blurred. I took one step, then another, before my legs finally gave out. I didn't hit the ground.

Strong, weathered hands caught me. I looked up into eyes the color of moss. An old man with a beard like spun silver held me up, his gaze intense and knowing. This was Marcus. The legend.

He didn't ask who I was. He didn't ask why I was there. His eyes went straight to the jagged, ugly scar ruining my neck. He pressed a thumb against it, and a shockwave of heat pulsed through me, making me gasp.

"They told you that you were broken," Marcus murmured, his voice sounding like grinding stones. "Fools. You aren't empty, child. You are overflowing."

He carried me inside, laying me on a wooden table. "Your wolf didn't die. She was sealed to save you. That scar isn't an injury anymore; it's a dam holding back an ocean."

He didn't offer me tea or comfort. He offered me pain.

"To speak again, to shift again, we must break the seal," he said, his expression grim. "It will hurt more than the injury itself."

I nodded. I would endure anything for revenge. Anything to see Wesley kneel.

Marcus prepared a bath of dark, boiling liquid that smelled of iron and lightning. When he lowered me into it, I tried to scream, but only a rasp came out. The liquid felt like acid, eating away at my skin to find the magic beneath.

Then, he placed his hands on my throat.

White-hot agony exploded in my neck. It felt like he was reaching inside and knitting the severed fibers of my soul back together with needles of fire. My back arched off the table, my mouth opening in a silent, agonizing wail.

"Endure it!" Marcus commanded, his voice booming with power. "Call to her! She is waiting!"

The pain was blinding, a searing heat that traveled from my throat down to my very core. But in the center of that fire, I felt something stir. A heartbeat. Not mine.

*Thump-thump. Thump-thump.*

It was heavy. It was angry. It was royal.

As the darkness of unconsciousness finally rushed to claim me, I heard a sound that wasn't in the room. It was in my head. A low, thunderous growl that promised blood and war.

My wolf was awake.