Betrayed by My Alpha, I Claimed My Freedom

I stared at the email on my phone, reading it for the fifth time. Julian Croft, the most celebrated director in supernatural cinema, wanted me to audition for his new film. Five years ago, this would have been a dream come true. Now, it felt like a cruel reminder of everything I'd sacrificed for a mate who despised me.

My wolf stirred inside me, a gentle nudge of encouragement. *We deserve this chance, Isabella.*

I hadn't acted since becoming Luna of the Moonstone Pack. Since losing our pup two weeks ago, I'd barely left my room in the east wing—as far from Alexander's chambers as possible within the pack house. The distance was a mercy; I couldn't bear to feel his indifference through our damaged bond.

Still, protocol demanded I seek his permission. I found Alexander in his office, Victoria perched on the edge of his desk, her hand resting possessively on his shoulder. My presence immediately soured the atmosphere.

"What is it now, Isabella?" Alexander's voice held the same cold detachment it always did when addressing me.

"I've been offered an audition for Julian Croft's new supernatural film," I said, fighting to keep my voice steady. "I'd like your permission to attend."

Victoria's laugh cut through the air before Alexander could respond. "An audition? Darling, you haven't acted in five years. Do you really think you still have what it takes?"

I kept my eyes on Alexander, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a response. His jade eyes narrowed slightly as he leaned back in his chair.

"No," he said simply. "The pack has enough attention without its Luna chasing celebrity. It wouldn't be appropriate."

"But—"

"I said no." The Alpha tone rippled through his words, designed to end all argument.

Victoria's smirk widened as she twirled a strand of blonde hair. "Besides, we have the Northern Alliance negotiations next month. Alexander needs a proper Luna by his side, not someone distracted by... Hollywood fantasies."

The irony of her words—she who had never performed a single Luna duty—burned like acid. I nodded stiffly and left, my wolf growling with indignation.

That night, as moonlight spilled through my window, I made my decision. I replied to Julian's email accepting the audition. For five years, I'd been the obedient, rejected Luna. I'd lost my career, my dignity, and now my child. What more could Alexander take from me?

* * *

"You're going to visit Elder Lydia?" Beta Marcus looked skeptical as I signed out at the pack gates the following morning.

"Yes," I lied smoothly. "She's teaching me about traditional herbal remedies."

In reality, I was headed to Crescent Studios in the city. I'd worn my simplest clothes and a baseball cap pulled low—not because I feared recognition, but because word traveled fast in werewolf circles.

The studio buzzed with energy that made my skin tingle. I'd forgotten this feeling—the creative electricity, the sense of possibility. Julian greeted me with genuine warmth, his eyes lighting up as if welcoming back an old friend.

"Isabella Martinez. The silver screen has missed you."

The audition scene was emotionally complex—a she-wolf discovering her mate's betrayal. I barely needed to act. When I finished, the room was silent. Julian's expression told me everything I needed to know.

"That was... extraordinary," he said finally. "The role is yours if you want it."

Relief flooded through me, followed immediately by a surge of confidence I hadn't felt in years. My wolf preened, satisfied.

But then came the catch.

"There's just one issue," Julian continued, his expression growing serious. "The investors are concerned about your... situation. Your Alpha's reputation for volatility is well-known, and they're worried about potential interference."

He named a figure—five million dollars as a "production guarantee" in case Alexander forced me to withdraw. It was an impossible sum, clearly meant to be a dealbreaker.

"Victoria," I whispered, understanding immediately. She had connections in the entertainment world. This had her manipulative fingerprints all over it.

I left the studio with the role conditionally mine and an impossible mountain to climb. As I drove back to the pack territory, my phone rang with an unfamiliar number.

"Isabella speaking," I answered cautiously.

"Luna Isabella," came a smooth, accented voice. "This is Princess Sophia of the European Lycan Court. I hear you're making a comeback, and I believe we might be able to help each other."

My grip tightened on the steering wheel. Princess Sophia was notorious for never offering something for nothing. Whatever she wanted in return would come at a steep price—but perhaps one I was finally willing to pay.