Rejected By The Alpha, Claimed By The Hidden King

Elara Thorne's POV:

The air at the Truce Gathering was thick with the smells of roasted boar, sweet mead, and the damp, earthy scent of hundreds of werewolves. For one day a year, old rivalries were set aside, and the clearing buzzed with the sounds of commerce and laughter.

I bought Cora a crown woven from wildflowers and night-blooming jasmine. She placed it on her head, her silver-blonde hair peeking out from under the petals, and a genuine, radiant smile lit up her face. It was the first time I’d seen her truly happy in weeks.

My excuse to Ryker had been simple: Cora needed fresh air, and as Luna, I had a social duty to appear at the Gathering. He’d waved me off with an impatient grunt, already preoccupied with greeting a delegation of Alphas, Faye standing elegantly at his side.

Cora’s eyes went wide as she spotted a stall selling small, glowing lanterns crafted from luminous mushrooms. Without a second thought, I bought one for her, its gentle blue light casting an ethereal glow on her happy face. Seeing that smile made every risk, every lie, worth it. My first priority was no longer surviving my marriage; it was healing my child.

A few wolves from other packs, unaware of the internal politics of Blackwood, nodded to me respectfully. “Luna Blackwood,” they’d murmur. I would nod back, a polite smile fixed on my face, the title a bitter irony in my mind.

I led Cora to the children’s area, a section of the clearing filled with wooden climbing structures and laughing, tumbling wolf pups. Cora, used to being an outcast, instinctively hid behind my legs.

I knelt down to her level. “Go on, sweetie,” I encouraged, my voice soft. “Go make a friend. You belong here just as much as they do.”

As if summoned by my words, a little girl with a bright red ribbon in her hair, clearly from Silvermoon Pack, bounded over. “Do you want to climb with me?” she asked Cora, her voice bright and friendly.

Cora looked at me, her eyes full of uncertainty. I gave her a warm, encouraging smile. “Go on.”

She took a hesitant step forward, then another. Soon, she was scrambling up the wooden logs after her new friend, her laughter, clear as a silver bell, drifting back to me.

My heart swelled with a painful, poignant joy. I watched them play, my eyes scanning the crowd for Clara, hoping she had news. My gaze inadvertently snagged on the main Alpha’s tent. Ryker and Faye were inside, laughing with several other leaders. Faye held a goblet of wine, looking every bit the reigning Luna.

I forced my eyes away. It didn’t matter. None of that mattered anymore.

My attention snapped back to the children. They were having a contest to see who could climb the highest. Cora, lacking the enhanced agility of a shifted wolf, was slower than the others, but she was determined, her small face set with concentration.

Suddenly, an older boy from a notoriously aggressive pack shoved her. “You’re so slow! Are you even a real wolf?” he taunted.

The words were a cruel echo of what she’d heard at home. Cora’s face went white, her hands freezing on the log.

I started to move forward, but something made me stop. I wanted to see what she would do.

She didn’t cry. She bit her lip, her small chin jutting out, and glared at the boy. “I am a wolf!”

The boy, angered by her defiance, shoved her again, harder this time, trying to knock her off the structure.

At that exact moment, a flicker of movement in the trees at the edge of the clearing caught my eye. A pair of hungry, desperate eyes. A rogue. Filthy, gaunt, and radiating an aura of madness that made the hairs on my arms stand on end. He was watching the children, his gaze locking onto the smallest, most vulnerable one.

Cora.

A primal wave of dread washed over me. My mother’s intuition screamed DANGER.

I launched myself forward, shouting her name, but it was too late.

The rogue exploded from the tree line, a blur of matted grey fur and snarling teeth, moving with unnatural speed. His target was the small girl on the climbing frame.

The other children screamed. The bully who had been tormenting Cora froze in terror.

Caught between the boy’s shove and the terrifying sight of the charging rogue, Cora’s foot slipped. She lost her grip, her small body tumbling backward off the structure, falling through the open air.

“CORA!” The scream was ripped from my throat, a raw sound of pure terror. My world stopped, my heart seizing in my chest.