Reborn Luna's Alpha Rebellion

I never loved Ezequiel Mendez, and our union was born out of necessity, not choice.

His father, the Alpha of the Silver Moon Pack, sought my father’s warriors, and my father craved the power that came with aligning our family with theirs.

For twenty years, I never defied Ezequiel.

When he criticized me for lacking the refinement of high-born she-wolves, I learned to play the piano, paint, and master the etiquette expected of a Luna.

When he said I didn’t understand the pack’s politics or how to manage its affairs, I studied the pack laws until I could recite them by heart.

I never pleaded for mercy when he turned against my family, and I didn’t object when he brought his so-called “Moonlight Princess,” Celine Hall, into our home.

The only time I ever asked him for anything was for our daughter, Paislee.

She had fallen in love with the same man as Milena, Celine’s daughter.

The day I begged Ezequiel, he didn’t grant my request.

I brought it up again on the day of the assassination attempt.

I stepped in front of him, taking the blow meant for him. Bleeding and broken, I collapsed into his arms.

“I’ve never asked you for anything,” I whispered, my voice weak but steady. “But Paislee and Augustine are truly in love. If you look closely, you’ll see it.

“You and I both know the consequences of being mated to someone you don’t love.”

There was one more thing I wanted to ask Ezequiel, but time ran out.

I wanted to tell him that if there was another life, we should avoid each other entirely.

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My name is Anais Jenkins, a name my father gave me, claiming it was after my mother’s hometown.

I knew it was a lie. He couldn’t even spell the name properly.

He despised me for being a daughter he deemed useless—until the day Ezequiel’s father, the Alpha of the Silver Moon Pack, passed through our territory, desperate for allies.

His pack was on the brink of collapse, and he needed my father’s warriors.

My father, who had always dreamed of being part of a powerful pack, saw his chance.

To repay my father’s assistance, Ezequiel’s father arranged for me to be mated to his son.

I knew Ezequiel didn’t want this. On the day of our marking ceremony, he only said the words “I accept” and nothing more.

But he had no choice. His father had promised him the title of future Alpha if he complied.

Ezequiel wanted power, so he accepted me.

And I wanted to survive, so I couldn’t refuse.

When his father secured dominance over the region, I became the future Luna.

But Ezequiel made it clear he didn’t think I deserved the title—in any way.

So, after he was named future Alpha, I learned all the things I never cared for: music, art, and the intricate laws of the pack.

I never challenged him, and the pack members whispered behind my back, calling me submissive and weak.

When my father’s pack was disbanded, I didn’t plead for mercy.

When Ezequiel brought Celine Hall, his “Moonlight Princess,” into our home, I didn’t object.

Ezequiel treated me with a cold formality. Some called it respect, others indifference.

If it was respect, he never punished me for my father’s failures, and no one dared suggest he strip me of my title as Luna.

If it was indifference, he never loved me. Our daughter, Paislee, was conceived only because of a night when he’d been drunk and lost control.

I drank the potion to prevent a pregnancy, but two months later, I was still carrying her.

I tried to end it, but the pup clung to life as if determined to survive.

When Ezequiel found out, he stopped me from trying again.

“Keep it,” he said.

Later, when he brought Celine and her daughter, Milena, into our home, I realized the truth.

Milena was the same age as Paislee.

And I remembered the night Ezequiel had stumbled into my room, his scent heavy with alcohol.

Those words—“Keep it”—weren’t meant for me.