Rejected Luna

The morning sun offered no warmth as I stood outside the heavy oak doors of the Alpha Suite. My knees still throbbed, a phantom ache from where Liam’s command had forced them into the floorboards the night before, but the pain in my chest was far sharper. I wasn't here to fight. I wasn't here to beg. I simply wanted my mother’s jewelry box—the one thing of value I had left in a room that was no longer mine.

I pushed the door open. The air inside, once crisp with Liam’s scent of spiced amber and the subtle floral notes of my own shampoo, had changed. It was thick now, cloying and heavy.

Serena was awake. She lounged in the center of the massive four-poster bed, her small frame swallowed by the duvet that used to cover me. The sight that stole the breath from my lungs wasn't just her presence; it was what she wore. Liam’s favorite dress shirt, the charcoal one he wore for pack meetings, hung loosely off her shoulders. The collar was unbuttoned, exposing the pale curve of her neck.

She looked the picture of fragility, except for the look in her eyes as they landed on me. It wasn't fear. It was amusement.

"I just need my things," I said, my voice sounding brittle in the quiet room. I moved toward the vanity, keeping my eyes averted from the bed.

"He smells like safety, doesn't he?" Serena’s voice was soft, a raspy whisper that scraped against my nerves.

I froze, my hand hovering over the velvet mahogany box on the dresser. In the mirror’s reflection, I saw her shift. She reached onto the nightstand and picked up a small, crystal vial. It was delicate, stoppered with silver.

With a slow, deliberate motion, she uncorked it.

Instantly, the room was flooded with a scent that made my stomach turn—not because it was foul, but because it was hauntingly familiar. Lavender and rain. *Aurora.*

My inner wolf, Sasha, let out a low, pained whimper and retreated to the furthest corner of my mind. It was the scent of the ghost that had haunted our mating bond for five years.

Serena brought the vial to her nose, inhaling deeply, her eyes fluttering shut in mock ecstasy. Then she looked at me, the mask of the terrified, grieving sister slipping just enough to reveal the predator beneath.

"You don't get it, do you, Elise?" she whispered, twirling the vial between her fingers. "You keep waiting for him to wake up and see you. But he doesn't want a mate. He wants a memory."

She gestured to her hair, dyed the same auburn shade her sister’s had been, and then to the shirt clinging to her body. "And I look just like her. With this scent... I *am* her."

I grabbed the jewelry box, my knuckles turning white. "He will see the truth eventually, Serena."

"By the time he does," she smiled, capping the vial, "there won't be anything left of you to see."

***

Two weeks of silence followed. I lived like a ghost in my own home, sticking to the shadows of the guest wing, avoiding the Alpha floor where Serena played house with my mate. But tonight, avoidance was impossible.

The Silverclaw Pack was hosting a delegation from the Northern Territories. It was a formal dinner, a display of power and stability. As the Luna, my presence was mandatory, even if my authority had been stripped away in private.

I dressed in a simple white gown, the only formal wear I had managed to salvage from the suite before Serena fully claimed it. Standing before the mirror in the cramped guest bathroom, I tried to summon some semblance of dignity. *Head high, Elise,* I told myself. *You are still the Luna.*

But when I entered the grand dining hall, my resolve cracked.

The long mahogany table was set with crystal and silver, glittering under the chandeliers. At the head sat Liam, looking regal and imposing in his black suit. And at his right hand—the seat reserved by blood and law for the Luna—sat Serena.

She looked frail, wrapped in a cashmere shawl, her face pale. As I approached, the conversation in the room died. The visiting Alphas turned to look at me, confusion rippling through their bonds.

"Elise," Liam said, his tone clipped. He didn't look at me; his focus was on cutting a piece of steak for Serena. "Take the seat at the end."

The end of the table. The spot for children or lower-ranked Omegas.

"That is the Luna's seat, Alpha," I said quietly, gesturing to where Serena sat.

"Serena is recovering from a severe episode," Liam replied, his voice leaving no room for argument. "She needs to be close to my aura to maintain her strength. Sit."

Heat flooded my cheeks. I walked the length of the silent table, feeling the weight of twenty pairs of eyes on my back, and took the seat at the far end.

The dinner was an exercise in torture. I watched Liam lean in to whisper to Serena, refilling her glass, ensuring she was comfortable. He treated her with a reverence he had never shown me.

Halfway through the meal, I reached for the crystal pitcher of water. My hand was steady, but as I poured, a sudden, sharp crash echoed through the hall.

I looked up, startled. Serena had knocked over a heavy decanter of red wine. The dark liquid sprayed across the table, splashing violently onto the skirt of my white dress. It looked like a bloodstain spreading across the fabric.

"Oh!" Serena gasped, bringing a hand to her mouth, her eyes wide and teary. "I'm so sorry! My hand... it just spasmed. I'm so weak..."

I stood up abruptly, the cold wine soaking through to my skin. "Serena, you—"

*SLAM.*

Liam’s fist hit the table, rattling the silverware. He was on his feet in an instant, his golden eyes blazing—not at her, but at me.

"Sit down, Elise!" he growled, his voice vibrating with Alpha power. "Can't you see she's trembling? You standing up like that—you startled the invalid!"

"She threw it at me!" I protested, my voice shaking.

"She is sick!" Liam roared, his protective instinct for the 'fading' wolf overriding all logic. "Look at what you've done. You've upset her wolf again. Clean yourself up and leave. You are disrupting the peace."

I looked around the table, desperate for someone to intervene. But the visiting Alphas didn't look angry. They looked at me with something far worse than contempt.

Pity.

They saw a Luna who had no power. A mate who had no respect. I was nothing but a placeholder in a white dress stained red, dismissed by my own mate for a ghost's shadow.

Without a word, I turned and walked out of the hall, the sound of Serena’s soft, apologetic sobbing following me like a victory march.