My Mate Rejected Me to Make Her His Luna

The closet door hung open like a broken jaw.

I stood frozen in the doorway of our bedroom, staring at the space where my grandmother's keepsake box should have been. The winter coats lay in a heap on the floor, yanked down in someone's hurry. Hangers scattered across the carpet. The small wooden box—hand-carved with moon phases, the only thing I had left of her—was gone.

My knees hit the floor. My hands tore through the coats, the shoes, the cardboard boxes of old clothes I'd been meaning to donate. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

The silver necklace. The Grimoire.

Gone.

I was out the door before I could think, my feet pounding against gravel. One-Eyed Jack's Pawn Shop sat three blocks away, wedged between a liquor store and a closed-down laundromat. The neon sign flickered in the dying afternoon light—CASH FOR GOLD, QUICK LOANS, NO QUESTIONS.

I burst through the door, the bell jangling overhead. Jack looked up from behind the counter, his good eye widening slightly at my appearance. I must have looked wild—hair tangled, chest heaving, eyes probably red from the tears I didn't remember crying.

"Please," I gasped. "A wooden box. With a silver necklace and an old book. Did someone—"

The shop door opened behind me.

Cairo walked out of the back room, counting a thick stack of bills. He looked up, saw me, and his expression shifted from surprise to irritation in a heartbeat.

"What are you doing here?"

"What am I—" The words choked in my throat. "That was mine. That was my grandmother's. You had no right—"

"I had every right." He shoved the cash into his jacket pocket and moved toward the door. "I'm the Alpha of this household. Everything in that trailer belongs to me, including your little collection of worthless trinkets."

"The Grimoire isn't worthless. Those recipes—"

"Are useless." He pushed past me, his shoulder hitting mine hard enough to make me stumble. "Just like everything else about you. Alaiya needs a proper gown for our debut. Real silk, real embroidery, the kind that announces a Luna's arrival. That old book couldn't even fetch enough for the deposit, but it's a start."

He paused at the door, looking back with something like pity in his eyes. It was worse than his anger.

"Grow up, Novalee. This is pack politics. This is survival. You want to cry over some dead woman's scribbles? Fine. But don't expect me to apologize for doing what needs to be done."

The door slammed behind him.

I turned to Jack, desperate. "How much? How much did he get?"

Jack's good eye wouldn't meet mine. "Three hundred for the silver. The book... fifty. Nobody wants old recipe books, miss. I'm sorry."

Three hundred and fifty dollars. Five generations of healing knowledge. My grandmother's legacy. Gone for the price of a dress.

I walked home in a daze. The ceremonial robe. I still had the ceremonial robe commission. The visiting dignitary from the Northern Pack was paying two hundred dollars for the custom embroidery work. If I could finish it by tomorrow, if I could get that money, maybe I could buy back the Grimoire. Maybe Jack would hold it for me. Maybe—

I worked through the night, my fingers flying over the white silk. The protection symbols formed under my needle—ancient patterns meant to guard the wearer from harm. The irony wasn't lost on me.

By morning, my eyes burned and my hands cramped, but the robe was nearly finished. Just the final border work left. I stood to stretch, my back screaming in protest, and stumbled toward the bathroom.

The sound of the trailer door opening barely registered through my exhaustion.

I was washing my face when I heard it—Jakari's laugh, high and careless. Then Alaiya's voice, sweet as poisoned honey: "Oh, Jakari, be careful with that—"

I ran.

The white silk lay across my work table, no longer pristine. Purple liquid spread across the fabric like a wound, soaking into the delicate embroidery I'd spent hours perfecting. Grape juice. The bottle lay on its side, still dripping onto my floor.

Jakari stood there, his mouth forming an 'O' of fake surprise. "Oops."

"You—" I couldn't breathe. "You did that on purpose."

"It was an accident," Alaiya said, examining her nails. "Boys will be boys, Novalee. Surely you can just... wash it or something?"

"It's ruined. This was a commission. I needed—" My voice cracked. "I needed that money."

Alaiya's eyes met mine, and I saw the truth there. She knew. She knew exactly what she'd done.

"Well, that's unfortunate," she said. "But these things happen. Come on, Jakari. Cairo's taking us to look at venues."

They left. Just like that. Left me standing over the ruins of my last hope.

That night, Cairo brought Alaiya home for dinner.

He didn't ask. He simply walked in with her on his arm, both of them dressed like they were attending a gala instead of entering a rundown trailer. The scent of her perfume—jasmine and vanilla—filled our small space, making everything smell wrong.

"Set another plate," Cairo said, not looking at me.

I moved like a puppet, my hands going through the motions while my mind screamed. I served the pasta I'd made for myself, watched them eat food I'd bought with my tips, listened to them discuss color schemes for their New York apartment.

"The penthouse has floor-to-ceiling windows," Alaiya said, twirling pasta on her fork. "Perfect for morning yoga."

"Uncle Marcus promised us the east wing," Cairo added. "Close to the Council chambers. Strategic."

I stood against the kitchen counter, not eating, not sitting. Not invited to.

Cairo finally looked at me. He pulled a folded paper from his jacket and slid it across the table.

"Sign this."

My hands shook as I picked it up. Legal terms I barely understood. Relinquishment of mate status. Dissolution of contract. Release of all claims.

"You want me to—"

"Before we leave for New York," he interrupted. "Sign it, and you can stay in the trailer until you figure something out. Don't sign it..." He shrugged. "The trailer's in my name. Everything here is in my name. You'll have nothing."

Alaiya smiled at me over her wine glass—my wine glass, from the set I'd bought at a yard sale.

"It's really the kindest option," she said. "This way, there's no scandal. You just... fade away. Like you were never really here at all."

The paper crumpled in my fist.

Cairo's eyes narrowed. "Don't be stupid, Novalee. You have until we leave. Two weeks. Sign it, or lose everything."

They left together, Alaiya's laugh echoing in the hallway.

I stood alone in my kitchen, surrounded by their dirty dishes, holding a document that would erase three years of my life.

Outside, the moon rose full and bright, and somewhere in the distance, I heard a wolf howl.

It sounded like a warning.