Betrayed Luna's New Beginning

Cold. So cold. The ocean had become my grave, and yet I lived. Somehow.

I drifted in and out of consciousness, the silver poison still burning through my veins. Each wave that crashed over me was another betrayal, another reminder of Ryan's face as he'd watched me being dragged away. The mate bond between us stretched thin, agonizing threads that refused to break completely despite his cruelty.

Inside me, Aria whimpered, no longer the proud wolf who had found her mate. She curled into herself, wounded beyond the physical.

'Stay with me,' I whispered to her in our shared consciousness. 'Please don't leave me too.'

Light broke across the horizon—dawn. How long had I been in these waters? Hours? A full day? My ceremonial gown, once pristine white, now hung in bloodied tatters around my battered body.

"There! In the water!" A voice cut through the constant roar of the ocean.

Through salt-crusted eyelashes, I made out the outline of a vessel—not a pack boat, something larger. Human.

"Female, early twenties, severe injuries!" Another voice called out. "Get the medical kit!"

Rough but gentle hands pulled me from the water. I tried to speak, to warn them about the silver still burning inside me, but only a broken sound escaped my throat.

"It's okay, miss. You're safe now. U.S. Coast Guard. We've got you."

The world tilted and spun as they lifted me onto their vessel. The silver blade wound throbbed with each heartbeat, sending fresh waves of poison through my system. My wolf flickered between consciousness and darkness.

'Aria,' I called to her. 'Stay with me.'

But she only whimpered, curling tighter into herself. The betrayal had wounded her more deeply than any silver ever could.

* * *

Beeping machines. Antiseptic smells. Human voices discussing my condition in hushed, concerned tones.

"Silver toxicity... extensive water damage to the lungs... hypothermia..."

I forced my eyes open. A hospital room came into blurry focus—white walls, medical equipment, tubes running into my arms. A small television mounted in the corner caught my attention as a familiar symbol flashed across the screen—the Crescent Moon Pack emblem.

With tremendous effort, I reached for the remote control on the bedside table, turning up the volume.

"—historic announcement from the Alpha of Crescent Moon Pack," the reporter was saying.

The camera panned to the pack's council chamber. My heart seized as Ryan appeared on screen, standing tall and proud at the ceremonial altar—the very one where we should have completed our mate ceremony. Beside him stood Marina, her hand possessively wrapped around his arm, her other hand resting protectively over her stomach.

"Today I stand before you to announce a formal rejection," Ryan's voice rang clear and cold. His eyes, once warm amber when they looked at me, now glittered with ice.

No. Please, no.

"I, Ryan Sterling, Alpha of the Crescent Moon Pack, reject you, Victoria Walsh, daughter of Alpha Richard of the Silver Ridge Pack, as my mate."

The formal words sliced through me more painfully than Marina's silver blade. Inside, Aria howled in agony as our mate bond shattered completely. I clutched at my chest, feeling physical pain as the connection that had defined the last five years of my life was severed by his decree.

"In her place," Ryan continued, "I claim Marina Torres as my chosen mate and the mother of my heir."

The assembled pack members howled their approval, accepting their Alpha's decision without question. None of them knew the truth. None of them cared that their Luna had been stabbed, tortured, and left to die.

The door to my hospital room burst open with such force that it slammed against the wall. My father, Alpha Richard Walsh, stormed in, his powerful aura filling the small space. Behind him, his Beta and two Delta warriors scanned the room for threats.

"Victoria." His voice broke as he saw me, his strong facade crumbling for just a moment before his Alpha mask slipped back into place.

"Father," I whispered, my voice raw from salt water and screaming.

"We're getting you out of here," he said, already signaling his men to prepare for transport. "I've made arrangements. The Moonveil Pack in London has agreed to take you in."

"London?" The word felt foreign on my tongue.

"You can't stay here. Not after—" He glanced at the television, which still showed Ryan and Marina celebrating their announcement. With a growl, he turned it off.

"I'll kill him for this," my father vowed, his eyes flashing with his wolf.

"No," I managed. "Just... get me away."

As my father's men prepared to move me, the hospital room door opened again. The scent hit me before I saw her—Marina, her triumphant smile widening as she took in my broken state.

"Just wanted to see how our former Luna was doing," she purred, ignoring my father's warning growl.

She approached the bed, deliberately pulling something from her pocket—the moonstone necklace Ryan had commissioned for our ceremony. She dangled it before me, the stone catching the light.

"It looks better on me anyway," she whispered, just low enough for only me to hear. "Just like your life, your pack... your mate."

As my father's warriors moved to intercept her, Marina leaned closer, her final words burning into my memory:

"He never loved you. He was always meant to be mine."