Broken by the Alpha: The Moon Singer's Rise

Alexia POV

I spent the next two weeks existing as a shadow.

Every moment I wasn't on my hands and knees scrubbing floors or being paraded out to play for Jacob, I was plotting. I studied the Pack patrol routes until I knew every gap in their shift changes. I hoarded survival funds, slipping the meager coins I found in couch cushions into the lining of my shoe.

Most importantly, I practiced.

I mastered the ancient breathing techniques I’d scoured from forbidden Lycan texts hidden in the library's dustiest corner—techniques designed to mask one’s scent.

My talent, the "Moon Singer," wasn't just about music. It was about vibration. It was about frequency. If I could hum a melody to soothe a feral wolf, I could also tune my body’s frequency to make them look right through me.

Tonight was the night. Not the night I left, but the night I said goodbye to the last shred of hope.

It was the "Pack Contributors Gala." A pretentious title for a party where Jacob and Kassandra could be worshipped by the masses.

The ballroom was suffocating, thick with the cloying scent of expensive perfume and the heavy, iron tang of roasted prime rib. Crystal chandeliers dripped artificial light onto the silk dresses of the high-ranking wolves.

I stood in the corner, wearing a simple black dress I had sewn myself from cast-offs. It was clean, but against the sea of designer silk, it screamed *servant*.

Kassandra stood in the center of the room, her arm looped through Jacob’s. She was glowing, encased in a crimson gown that hugged her curves, diamonds sparkling at her throat. She looked like a Luna. She acted like a Luna.

"To Kassandra!" an Elder toasted, raising his champagne flute. "For her tireless dedication to organizing the Pack’s finances!"

The crowd cheered. I gripped my own hands behind my back to stop them from shaking. Kassandra hadn't organized a single receipt. I had balanced the ledgers. I had reconciled the accounts until three in the morning because she claimed she was "bad with numbers."

Jacob beamed at her, pride radiating off him in arrogant waves.

*Smile, Alexia,* Jacob’s voice intruded into my mind, a mental violation that made me flinch. *Don't embarrass us by looking like a funeral mute.*

I forced the corners of my mouth up. It felt like stretching dry, cracking clay.

Kassandra whispered something to Jacob, giggling. Then, she turned her gaze toward me. It wasn't a kind look. It was the look of a predator toying with a wounded mouse.

She unhooked her arm from Jacob and glided toward me. The room went silent, the crowd cleaving apart like the Red Sea for a false queen.

"Miss Bell," Kassandra said, her voice dripping with synthetic honey. She took my hands. Her palms were damp. "We were just discussing the new music hall Jacob is building for the Pack. I told him, 'Who better to design the acoustics than our little Alexia?'"

Murmurs of approval rippled through the crowd.

"It would be an honor for you to serve me... I mean, the Pack, in this way," she corrected herself with a smirk.

"The Pack needs your talent," Jacob added from behind her. He didn't ask. He stated. "You will do it."

I looked at them. The entitlement was suffocating. They wanted my brain, my talent, my soul, but they treated the vessel that carried them like trash.

"And," Kassandra continued, her eyes gleaming with malice, "I was thinking. That old moonstone pendant you wear? The dusty one? It would make such a lovely centerpiece for the hall's entrance. A symbol of... sacrifice."

My hand flew to my neck. The moonstone was the only thing I had left of my mother. It wasn't just a rock; it was a conduit for my White Wolf lineage, a secret hum against my skin that they couldn't even perceive.

"No," I said.

The silence in the room shattered. An Omega saying no to the Alpha's favorite?

Kassandra’s smile faltered. *Jacob,* she whined through the open *Mind-Link*, broadcasting her voice so the nearby Betas could hear. *She’s being difficult. It’s just a rock.*

*Give it to her, Alexia,* Jacob commanded via the link, his mental voice heavy with pressure. *Don't make a scene.*

I looked at Jacob. Then I looked at Kassandra.

"It was my mother's," I said, my voice quiet but steady. "It is not for the Pack. And it is certainly not for you."

I ripped my hand from Kassandra’s grip.

"How dare you?" a Beta female hissed from the side. "You selfish Omega. Kassandra does everything for us!"

"Ungrateful wretch," another muttered.

I felt the familiar sting of tears, hot and sharp, but I refused to let them fall. Not tonight.

I walked past Kassandra, straight to the grand piano on the dais.

"What is she doing?" someone whispered.

I sat down. I didn't play a soothing melody this time. I didn't play a lullaby to calm their beasts.

I played a storm.

My fingers crashed onto the keys. I poured every ounce of my pain, my rejection, and my hidden power into the music. The melody was discordant, sharp, and terrifyingly beautiful—a sonic weapon. It sounded like the howling of a thousand wolves dying in winter.

The glasses on the tables rattled and cracked. The chandeliers shivered violently overhead.

The wolves in the room covered their ears, whining in agony. The frequency hit their inner beasts, forcing them to submit, not to an Alpha, but to the raw, vibratory power of nature.

For ten seconds, I held the entire Obsidian Pack captive with nothing but sound.

Then, I stopped.

The silence that followed was deafening.

I stood up and faced Jacob. His eyes were wide, his mouth slightly open. He looked... afraid.

"I am not your architect," I said, my voice carrying to the back of the room without a microphone. "I am not your servant. And I am certainly not your Luna."

I looked at the clock on the wall. Midnight. My birthday.

"Happy birthday to me," I whispered.

I turned and walked toward the exit.

"Alexia! Stop!" Jacob roared, the Alpha Command lacing his voice like a whip.

My knees buckled. Agony shot up my spine, a hook trying to drag me to the floor. But I grabbed the doorframe. I bit my lip until I tasted copper.

*No.*

I forced one foot in front of the other, my bones grinding as I broke the Command with sheer will.

I walked out into the cool night air. I didn't look back. I went straight to my room, grabbed the single bag I had packed, and slipped into the darkness of the forest.

The invitation to Vienna was in my pocket. The moonstone was around my neck. And the Obsidian Pack was finally in my rearview mirror.