My Alpha Used Me as His Luna Battery

The summons came two days after I left Amani's sitting room.

Marcus delivered it. He stood in my doorway with his hands clasped behind his back and his eyes fixed on a point just past my shoulder. Professional. Distant. The way you look at someone who used to matter and doesn't anymore.

"The Alpha requires your presence in his office," he said. "Now."

I didn't ask why. I already knew.

I followed him through the pack house in silence. The halls were emptier than usual — most of the pack was at training or patrol — but the few wolves we passed stopped what they were doing to watch. No one spoke. No one nodded. They just looked.

Marcus stopped outside Cole's office and gestured to the door. He didn't follow me in.

Cole was behind his desk. Not standing. Not pacing. Just sitting with his hands folded on the polished wood surface, his posture so controlled it looked rehearsed. Gia wasn't there. The Luna pendant wasn't glinting in the light. It was just him and me and the silence between us.

He didn't tell me to sit.

"My mother informed me of your conversation," he said. His voice was measured. Calm. The tone of an Alpha closing a negotiation he'd already won. "She fast-tracked the severance paperwork. Very efficient of her."

I stood three feet from his desk and said nothing.

"I won't be signing it," he continued. He said it the way you'd mention the weather. Factual. Unremarkable. "Regardless of what agreement you reached with Amani, the bond remains a pack resource. Your wolf's continued existence — however weakened — sustains my aura. Severs my connection to you, and the pack suffers. I'm sure you understand."

I pressed my fingertips to the side of my neck. The empty space.

"You're dying anyway," he said. Not cruel. Just practical. "Dr. Dillon's prognosis is clear. The rejection would only accelerate the process. I'm protecting you by keeping the bond intact. You'll have access to the best care Ironcliff can provide. You'll be comfortable. That's more than most wolves in your condition could hope for."

He leaned back slightly in his chair. Relaxed. A man who had considered all variables and arrived at the only logical conclusion.

"The matter is closed, Leah."

I looked at him. Really looked. At the face I used to trace with my fingertips in the dark. At the mouth that used to say my name like a prayer. At the eyes that had once held nothing but me.

There was nothing left in them now but calculation.

I didn't argue. I didn't beg. I didn't ask him if he remembered the boy who had fought his way into this pack with bloody knuckles and my name in his chest.

I just turned around and walked out.

I stopped in the hallway outside his door. Stood motionless. Counted to ten in my head while my wolf made a sound so small and broken I almost couldn't feel it.

Then I kept walking.

---

I started preparing that night.

Small things. Quiet things. The kind of movements that wouldn't draw attention from the Omegas who delivered my meals or the patrols that passed my window twice a day.

I still had access to the medical stores — a leftover privilege from the days when I'd been trusted to manage my own treatment. No one had thought to revoke it. Why would they? I was too weak to be a threat. Too sick to run.

I took dried provisions from the kitchen storage. Just a handful at a time, tucked into my pockets during the late hours when the cooks had gone to bed. Jerky. Nuts. Hard bread that wouldn't spoil.

I assembled a basic first-aid kit from the medical supplies. Bandages. Antiseptic. Pain medication. Nothing that would be missed in a single inventory check.

I drew a map from memory — every border patrol route I'd memorized during my years as Luna-in-waiting, back when I'd thought I'd need to know these things to help lead the pack. I sketched it on the back of an old supply requisition form and folded it into quarters.

I hid everything beneath a loose floorboard under my cot. The kind of hiding place a child would use. The kind no one would think to check because no one thought I was capable of running.

I kept the rejection papers in my jacket. Always.

And I waited.

---

The announcement came four days later.

Cole's voice carried through the pack house on the internal link — the one that connected every wolf in Ironcliff whether they wanted to hear it or not.

*Formal pack run. Blackridge cliff trail. Tomorrow at dawn. All ranked wolves required to attend. Luna Gia will be joining to demonstrate her commitment to the pack.*

A pause. Then, quieter but no less absolute:

*Leah will attend as well.*

I felt the command settle into my chest like a stone. Not a request. Not an invitation. An Alpha order that my wolf couldn't refuse even if I wanted to.

I sat on the edge of my cot and stared at the wall.

A pack run. With Gia. Along the cliffs.

I knew what this was. A fated mate's presence amplified the Alpha's aura during a run. It was pack dynamics 101 — the reason Alphas kept their mates close during displays of dominance. I was being summoned to be a battery. Again. To stand beside Cole and radiate bond-strength while Gia played Luna and the pack pretended I didn't exist.

Dr. Dillon's voice crackled through the link an hour later, carefully professional.

*Alpha, I must recommend that Leah refrain from physical exertion given her recent relapse. The strain could be—*

Cole's response was immediate. Flat.

*Recommendation noted. She'll attend.*

The link went silent.

I pulled my boots from under the cot. Laced them slowly, each pull of the leather deliberate. My hands didn't shake.

I checked the floorboard. The supplies were still there. The map. The provisions. The first-aid kit.

I pressed my fingertips to the side of my neck.

Then I lay down. Faced the window.

And prepared to run.