Rejected by the Alpha, Claimed by the King

The servants' quarters had become my sanctuary and my prison. Hidden beneath my narrow bed lay a leather journal I'd procured from the pack's supply room—one of dozens ordered for administrative purposes, its absence unnoticed among Everett's careless record-keeping.

I photographed each bruise with an old camera Marcus had smuggled to me during one of his 'diplomatic visits' to Silvermoon territory. The welts from the wolfsbane ceremony formed angry purple lines across my forearms. I documented the date, the cause, the witnesses present. Ryan Torres. Everett's silence. Haven's laughter echoing through the great hall.

*Evidence,* my wolf whispered. *When the time comes.*

The mind-link buzzed constantly now with Haven's poison. She'd perfected the art of pack gossip, her thoughts sliding through our mental network like silk-wrapped daggers.

*Did you see how she ruined the victory ceremony? Contaminating sacred herbs with her weakness.*

*The Alpha deserves better than a Luna who can't even handle basic pack duties.*

*I heard she's from some minor Ironwood family. No wonder she doesn't understand proper protocol.*

I blocked the links during the worst of it, but the damage spread through the pack like wildfire. Younger wolves avoided my gaze. Warriors who once nodded respectfully now looked through me as if I were already gone.

Let them think what they wanted. I had work to do.

***

The formal gathering arrived like a storm I couldn't avoid. Three neighboring Alphas had come to pay respects to Everett's victory over the rogue bands—Alpha Gabriel Cross from Neutral Territory, Alpha Sarah Mitchell from Eastwind Pack, and Alpha James Caldwell from Northstone. The great hall gleamed with polished silver and crystal, every surface reflecting the importance of our guests.

I wore the deep blue dress Everett had chosen for me, its high collar hiding the fading marks on my throat from where Ryan had grabbed me during the herb ceremony. Haven glided through the crowd in flowing white silk, her silver jewelry catching the light like captured stars.

Silver jewelry. My stomach clenched as I noticed the elaborate bracelet wrapping her wrist, the delicate chain around her throat, the ornate rings adorning her fingers. All silver. All potentially lethal to a werewolf's skin.

"Ellie!" Haven's voice rang out across the hall, sweet as poisoned honey. "Come meet Alpha Gabriel. He was just asking about our pack's traditions."

I moved through the crowd carefully, my wolf's instincts screaming warnings I couldn't quite place. Alpha Gabriel smiled warmly—a genuine expression that reminded me why neutral pack leaders were so respected. His handshake was firm, respectful.

"Luna Franklin, Alpha Murphy speaks highly of your dedication to pack ceremonies. I understand you personally prepared the victory herbs despite significant personal cost?"

Heat flooded my cheeks. Everett had told them about my sacrifice? "I—yes, Alpha Gabriel. It was my honor to—"

"Oh, how clumsy of me!" Haven's exclamation cut through my words as she stumbled forward, her silver-laden hands reaching out to steady herself against my arms.

The metal hit my skin like liquid fire. I felt the bracelet's chain wrap around my forearm, the rings press against my wrist, the necklace brush my shoulder as Haven fell against me. Silver burned through the thin fabric of my dress sleeves, searing into flesh with the distinctive agony that only affected our kind.

I couldn't stop the scream that tore from my throat.

"Oh goddess, I'm so sorry!" Haven pulled back, her eyes wide with perfectly performed shock. "These heels are impossible to walk in. Are you hurt?"

The burns blistered immediately, angry red welts forming where each piece of silver had touched. The pain was excruciating—silver poisoning sent fire through my veins, making my vision blur and my knees buckle.

"Luna!" Alpha Gabriel caught my elbow, his face creased with concern. "Someone get the pack healer immediately."

But Haven was already crying out, clutching her hands to her chest. "I think I scratched myself on her dress clasp. Oh, it stings terribly!"

The crowd's attention shifted like a tide. Concerned murmurs rose around Haven as she displayed tiny red marks on her palms—barely visible scratches that wouldn't scar a human child.

Then Everett's voice cut through the chaos, sharp with authority and unmistakable concern. "Haven! What happened?"

He pushed through the crowd, his eyes locked on her tear-streaked face. She fell into his arms with a sob that would have won awards for its performance.

"I'm so sorry, Everett. I was trying to introduce Luna Ellie to Alpha Gabriel, but these shoes... I lost my balance and we collided. I think I might have hurt her accidentally."

Everett's gaze finally found me, still supported by Alpha Gabriel, silver burns smoking on my arms where the blisters had burst. For one moment—just one—I thought I saw recognition flash in his eyes. Understanding of what silver contact meant for our kind.

Then Haven whimpered, and his attention snapped back to her like a rubber band.

"Elena!" he barked to our pack healer across the room. "Haven needs immediate attention."

Without another glance at my blistering arms, he swept Haven into his arms, carrying her toward the healer's station that had been set up for the formal gathering.

I stood there, silver burns eating through my flesh, while my mate rushed to tend to scratches that wouldn't leave marks by morning.