Rejected by the Alpha, Crowned by His Enemy

"Sound the return!" a sentry yelled from the watchtower.

Three horn blasts echoed through the fortress, announcing the High Alpha's return.

I froze halfway down the stone steps. My hand gripped the iron railing tight enough to hurt.

"Is it him?" I asked the guard beside me.

"The banners bear the Blackthorn crest, Luna," he replied.

Three years. My mind spun. I had spent a thousand nights staring at the northern wall, praying to the Moon Goddess for this exact moment. Three years of waking before dawn to read casualty reports. Three years of smiling through council meetings while terror gnawed at my stomach, quietly preparing for the day they brought his armor back empty.

"Open the gates!" I shouted.

"Luna, your cloak!" a maid called out from the doorway. "The storm—"

"Forget it!"

Rain lashed against the courtyard stones. I gathered my heavy skirts and ran. I ignored the cold water soaking my hair. I ignored the mud splashing against my ankles. Luna dignity demanded escorts and ceremony. I did not care.

Damian was alive. My mate was coming home.

The massive iron gates groaned open. Riders flooded into the keep, their armor clanking over the roar of the storm.

I stopped dead in my tracks.

He sat tall upon a massive black warhorse. His shoulders were broader than I remembered, his jaw sharper, his dark hair plastered to his forehead.

Alive.

A laugh bubbled in my throat. Tears mixed with the rain on my cheeks.

"Damian," I whispered.

He swung down from the saddle.

I took a step forward, my arms lifting to hold him.

Then, the carriage behind him rattled to a halt. The wooden door swung open.

A woman stepped down into the mud.

She had porcelain skin and soft, delicate features. A thick woolen blanket rested in her arms.

A sharp cry pierced the rain. A baby.

My lungs stopped working. The roaring storm faded into dead silence.

Damian did not run to me. He pivoted on his heel and rushed to the woman.

He positioned his large frame directly in front of her, shielding her from the rain. And from me.

He became a wall. A dangerous, unyielding Alpha barrier.

"Damian?" I asked, my voice trembling.

He turned his head. His golden eyes locked onto mine.

I waited for the rush of his scent. The familiar blast of mountain cedar that always meant safety.

It never came.

Instead, a suffocating cloud of orchid perfume hit my nose. Beneath it lay the bitter sting of moonflower oil. It coated him. A strange scent had soaked into his skin so thoroughly it erased his own.

"You're alive," I said, taking one shaky step closer.

His eyes narrowed into golden slits. He scanned me like an intruder trespassing on his lands.

"I don't know this woman," he announced to his guards.

My throat closed completely. I forced the corners of my mouth up into a desperate smile.

"It's me."

His expression remained entirely blank. "Who are you?"

The question shattered my ribs.

My inner wolf clawed at my chest, howling a single word over and over: Mate.

I raised a shaking hand and touched the scarred claiming mark on my neck.

"It's me," I repeated, my voice cracking. "Elara."

A tiny flicker of confusion passed through his gaze. He shifted his weight, dropping his hand to the hilt of his sword.

"Step back."

I stared at his hand. The hand that used to stroke my hair.

"I'm your Luna," I said.

Behind his broad shoulders, the pale woman tightened her grip on the crying infant.

Damian instantly looked over his shoulder. The harsh lines of his face melted. Total devotion softened his eyes.

That single tiny movement cut deeper than a silver blade.

Three years ago, he had pressed his forehead against mine on these very stones. *Wait for me,* he had whispered. *I'll come back to you.*

Now, he turned back to me with eyes made of ice.

"Your wolf is frightening my family," he said coldly.

The word echoed in the empty space between us.

*Family.*

My vision blurred. I looked at the wailing child. I looked at the pale woman shrinking behind my mate.

"Who are they?" I asked.

Damian's jaw tightened. "This is Selene."

Selene lowered her gaze modestly, pressing her cheek against the baby's blanket.

"And this is our son," Damian finished.

*Our.*

A loud gasp rippled through the gathered soldiers.

"Did he just say son?" someone whispered.

"Quiet!" a captain hissed.

Nobody moved. The rain beat down on the silence. Dozens of eyes watched their abandoned Luna process the Alpha's betrayal.

Three years of unbroken loyalty. Three years of holding Blackthorn together alone. Destroyed by a single syllable.

Pain erupted behind my sternum. My knees buckled.

I staggered forward, catching myself on a wooden hitching post.

Damian frowned. He took a half-step toward me. For half a heartbeat, a flash of genuine concern broke through his cold exterior. Real worry.

"Damian..." Selene whimpered softly from the carriage step.

The moment vanished. Damian snapped back to her side, wrapping a protective arm around her waist.

"Elara," he said, his tone devoid of any warmth. "Whatever story we've had, it ends here."

"You're confused," I argued, fighting the urge to scream over the storm.

"I don't know you."

"You will."

"I suggest you stop."

I stared at the man I had loved since I was eighteen years old. The man who swore my soul was his only home.

He looked at me and saw absolutely nothing. No recognition. No warmth. No love. Only suspicion.

My white wolf let out a broken, pathetic whine and curled into the darkest corner of my mind.

For the first time since he rode away to war, I wished he had never come back. I wished I had never hoped.

"Take Selene," Damian ordered his men, dismissing me entirely.

My blood ran cold as I watched them walk toward the keep.

He had brought a new family to my gates. I would not let them take my home.