Luna Rejects Alpha Mate

I stood frozen as Wilson's ultimatum hung in the air between us. Strip naked and stand outside for twenty-four hours, or choose exile. The choice should have been easy, but three years of loyalty to grandmother Luna's memory made my decision painful.

"I choose exile," I said, my voice steadier than I expected. "I will leave the Moonstone Pack."

A collective gasp rippled through the hall. Even Wilson looked momentarily surprised, as though he'd expected me to accept the humiliation rather than abandon my position as Luna.

"Your loss," he said coldly, turning away. "You have one hour to gather your belongings."

As the crowd dispersed in uncomfortable silence, I made my way to the Luna quarters—a suite of rooms I'd shared with Wilson in name only. He hadn't slept there in months, preferring Rosa's company to mine.

I moved quickly, gathering essentials—clothes, toiletries, the few photographs I had left of my family before the rogues attacked our pack. My hands trembled as I folded a blue dress grandmother Luna had given me on my eighteenth birthday, the day Wilson and I discovered our mate bond.

"Where do you think you're going with that?"

I turned to find Wilson standing in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. Behind him, Rosa lingered, her eyes gleaming with triumph.

"Just my personal belongings," I replied, continuing to pack.

Wilson's gaze fell on Whiskers, who was curled up on my bed. Grandmother Luna's beloved cat had been my companion since her death, the only living thing that had shown me unconditional affection in this pack.

"That stays," Wilson said, pointing at Whiskers. "Grandmother wanted Rosa to have him after..."

"After what?" I asked, my voice catching. "After she died mysteriously in her sleep? The strongest Luna our pack had ever known, suddenly gone?"

Something flickered across Wilson's face—doubt, perhaps—but Rosa stepped forward, her hand resting possessively on his arm.

"Whiskers belongs to the pack," she said sweetly. "And you're no longer part of it."

I reached for Whiskers anyway, but Wilson moved with Alpha speed, scooping up the cat and handing him to Rosa. Whiskers hissed and clawed, but Rosa held him tightly.

"Please," I whispered. "He's all I have left of her."

"That's the point," Wilson replied coldly.

I left with nothing but a small bag of clothes and toiletries, my heart breaking with each step away from the only home I'd known for three years.

But I wasn't ready to leave just yet. There was something about grandmother Luna's death that had never felt right. With the pack distracted by the aftermath of the ceremony, I slipped into the east wing where grandmother Luna's rooms had been preserved exactly as she'd left them.

The door creaked as I pushed it open, and the familiar scent of lavender and sage washed over me. I closed my eyes, letting my wolf's heightened senses take over.

"Help me find the truth, Aria," I whispered to my wolf.

I moved carefully across the room, my fingers trailing over her favorite armchair, the bookshelf filled with ancient pack histories. Something felt off—the air held traces of a scent that didn't belong.

Kneeling down, I examined the floorboards near her tea table. One seemed slightly looser than the others. I pried it up with my fingernails, and a small vial rolled out—empty except for a dried residue that made Aria growl within me.

"Wolfsbane," I breathed, recognizing the scent from my healer training.

My hands shook as I picked up grandmother Luna's favorite teacup from the table. Rosa's scent lingered on it, faint but unmistakable. The realization hit me like a physical blow—Rosa had poisoned grandmother Luna.

I needed proof. I needed to confront her.

The sacred garden behind the pack house was empty this time of evening. I found Rosa there, admiring the moonflowers that had been grandmother Luna's pride.

"Enjoying your victory?" I asked, stepping into the moonlight.

She turned, startled but quickly composed. "Clara. Shouldn't you be gone by now?"

I held up the vial. "Do you recognize this?"

Her eyes widened for just a moment before narrowing. "What is that supposed to be?"

"Wolfsbane residue," I said, watching her carefully. "From grandmother Luna's room. Your scent is on her teacup, Rosa."

She paled but quickly recovered, her fingers nervously fingering the moonstone pendant around her neck—the one grandmother Luna had given her on her sixteenth birthday.

"You're lying," she said, but her voice lacked conviction. "You're just trying to get back at me."

"I'm trying to find the truth," I replied, stepping closer. "Did you kill her? Did you poison the woman who took you in when you had nothing?"

Rosa's fingers continued to fidget with the pendant, her eyes darting around the garden as if looking for escape routes or witnesses.