Rejected by My Alpha

The tension in the den was palpable, the air thick with unspoken words and lingering resentment. Thalia stood in the corner, her arms crossed, her presence a quiet storm amidst the chaos. The realization finally hit the others in the room that she was still there, her aura as Luna commanding attention even in her silence. Waylon Daniels, Alpha of the Silver Moon Pack, was about to speak when Emmie Anderson, a young Delta, turned her tear-streaked eyes toward Thalia.

“Luna,” Emmie began, her voice trembling, “I know you have something important to discuss with Alpha Daniels right now. But Whiskers is really sick, and if we don’t see the pack healer soon, it could be too late.”

Thalia’s jaw tightened. She hadn’t said a word, yet Emmie was already painting her as the villain. The wolf pup, Whiskers, whimpered softly in Emmie’s arms, its tiny body trembling. Thalia had never been fond of pups, but even she could see the urgency in the situation.

“You’ve never had a pup, so you wouldn’t understand,” Emmie pleaded, her voice desperate. “Whiskers is like my child. Please, just let us get him to the healer first.”

Thalia’s eyes flicked to Waylon, who stood there, his muscular frame tense, his expression a mixture of concern and reproach. His dark eyes met hers, and for a moment, she thought she saw a flicker of guilt. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the cold detachment she had grown accustomed to.

“Luna,” Waylon said, his voice firm but tinged with impatience, “we can talk later when I get back.”

Thalia stepped forward, her gaze unwavering. “No need. I just have one thing to say.” Her voice was steady, though the tension in the room made it feel like the walls were closing in. “Grandma Lara wants us to come home for the pack’s Moon Festival dinner tomorrow.”

That was it. She had delivered the message, and now they could leave. Surprisingly, Waylon seemed momentarily taken aback by her straightforwardness. He looked at her as though he had expected something more—a fight, perhaps, or at least a display of the hurt he knew he had caused.

“That’s all?” he asked, his brow furrowing.

What else did he expect? A plea for him to stay? A reminder of the bond they once shared? Thalia’s expression remained impassive, though the weight of his betrayal pressed heavily on her chest.

“You should go,” she said, her tone calm but laced with finality. “Don’t delay taking Whiskers to the healer.”

Waylon hesitated, his gaze searching hers for something—anything—that might indicate she still cared. But Thalia’s mask was firmly in place, her walls impenetrable. In the end, it was Emmie’s insistence that finally spurred him into action. He turned away, his broad shoulders stiff as he followed Emmie out of the den, leaving Thalia alone in the suffocating silence.

As the door closed behind them, Thalia exhaled slowly, her hands trembling at her sides. The bond between them, once so strong, now felt like a frayed thread, unraveling with every passing moment. She could feel the sting of rejection, the ache of a mate bond that had been neglected and abused. But she refused to let it break her. She was Luna, after all, and she would endure.