Rejected Luna Reclaims Her Pack Throne

The sting of my palm against Henrik’s cheek echoed in the room. It was the first time in all these years that I had laid a hand on the Alpha of the Silver Moon Pack. I expected him to unleash his alpha tone, to command me to my knees, but he didn’t. Instead, he stood there, his towering frame tense, his sharp jawline twitching as he observed the red welt blooming on his skin. His eyes—cold and calculating—met mine, and for a moment, I saw something flicker in them, something I couldn’t quite place.

"Forget it," he said finally, his voice low but lacking its usual authority. "You’ve always had this temper. I’ll let it go for the sake of the pack." He glanced away, his broad shoulders stiff as he mentioned the pack, as if it were the only thing holding him back from retaliating.

When it was clear I wouldn’t lash out again, he turned and began rummaging through the cabinets for the first aid kit. "Who else but me would tolerate you like this?" he continued, his tone patronizing, his words cutting deeper than they should have. "Remember, after your parents died, it was me who restored your pack. Even though you’ve done nothing to contribute, I’ve stood by you because of our history."

His words were like salt on an open wound. I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. The mention of children—a topic he knew was a raw nerve for me—felt like a blade twisting in my heart.

"If you’re so unhappy, then let’s reject the bond," I said, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me.

I remembered the year my parents were killed in a rogue attack, their pack left in shambles. It was Henrik, my mate, who stepped in and helped me reclaim it. During those sleepless nights, I’d cried out, "I have no pack left." He’d held me, his deep voice soothing as he said, "You have me."

Now, with the Silver Moon Pack thriving under his leadership, the man I once knew was gone.

I was done living a life of compromise. Five years of sacrifices and the loss of my unborn pup were enough to repay his past kindness.

I wanted the pack, but not him.

"Reject the bond?" Henrik scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain. He turned to face me, his muscular frame looming over me like a predator. "Aurora, what right do you have to reject me? A Luna like you, weak and broken..."

His insult was cut short by the ringing of his phone. He glanced at the screen, his expression softening instantly. He tossed the burn ointment onto the counter and stepped out onto the balcony, his voice low and intimate as he spoke into the phone. When he returned, a smug smile played on his lips.

"There’s a pack gathering tonight," he announced, typing a message on his phone. "You’re coming as my Luna. I’ve already ordered a dress for you. It’ll be here soon."

Henrik had everything planned out, seemingly ignoring the welt on my arm. Instinctively, I wanted to refuse. Most of the pack members who’d known me were gone, and Mariana Owens never missed an opportunity to humiliate me.

But then I reminded myself, half of the pack still belonged to me. Even if we severed the bond, I needed to reclaim what was mine.

The dress arrived quickly—a long, elegant gown reminiscent of the one I’d worn when I first met Henrik. Unfortunately, five years of neglect had taken a toll on my appearance, and the dress felt awkward and ill-fitting.

Henrik kept urging me to hurry. I barely managed to apply some makeup and hastily tended to the burn. We got into his car, the silence between us heavy and suffocating.

Inside the car, a piece of lace lingerie dangled from the seatbelt. Henrik, looking guilty, tossed it onto the back seat.

"Mariana changed her clothes in my car and forgot to take it with her," he explained, his tone casual. "You know, she was instrumental in securing that alliance with the Crimson Fang Pack..."

"Uh-huh," I responded coldly.

Henrik often said we should be grateful to Mariana for securing the alliance. His ways of showing gratitude were indeed peculiar—like taking selfies together or holding hands while sharing a bed.

I’d grown numb to it. My indifference seemed to surprise Henrik. He glanced at me several times, his sharp features unreadable, before finally turning away.