Rejected Mate's New Life

I couldn't sleep after what I'd heard. Emma paced restlessly within me, her agitation matching the storm in my mind. *Decoy Luna*. The words had carved themselves into my consciousness, leaving wounds deeper than any claw mark I'd ever received defending Vincent.

The pack council meeting was scheduled for noon. As I dressed in the navy blue dress Vincent had once claimed brought out the gold flecks in my eyes, I caught my reflection in the mirror. Five years of believing I was special, chosen by the Moon Goddess herself. Five years of lies.

"We need proof," Emma whispered within me. "Something concrete."

She was right. My word against an Alpha's would mean nothing, especially with his Beta backing his story. I needed evidence.

The council chamber buzzed with activity as pack members filed in. Vincent sat at the head of the long oak table, his posture regal, commanding. Our eyes met briefly, and he smiled—that same smile I'd treasured for years. Now it felt like a knife twisting in my chest.

"Luna," he nodded, gesturing to the empty seat beside him.

I took my place, the perfect Luna, while beneath my calm exterior, I plotted.

Marcus leaned in to whisper something to Vincent, and I seized my opportunity. "I forgot my notes in our quarters," I announced, rising gracefully. "Please begin without me."

Vincent nodded absently, already engrossed in the territory dispute being presented. No one questioned the Luna's movements. That would be their mistake.

Instead of heading toward our shared quarters, I slipped down the corridor toward Vincent's private study. Two Delta wolves stood guard, but I'd anticipated this.

"Marcus needs you both in the council chamber," I said, infusing my voice with Luna authority. "Something about the eastern border patrol."

They hesitated only briefly before nodding respectfully and leaving their posts. The privileges of being Luna—privileges I now understood were built on sand.

Inside the study, I moved quickly. Vincent's desk was immaculate, each item in its precise place. I ran my fingers along the underside of the heavy wooden desk, finding the small lever Emma had once noticed him using when he thought I wasn't looking.

A soft click, and a panel in the bookcase slid open, revealing a hidden compartment. My heart hammered against my ribs as I reached inside, pulling out a leather-bound journal.

The first entry was dated five years ago, just before Vincent had claimed me as his mate.

*'The Silverfang alliance is too dangerous to pursue openly. Sophia remains vulnerable as long as our enemies know of my attachment to her. Tomorrow I will claim Isabella Morgan as my Luna. Her bloodline is strong enough to be believable, and her naive devotion to pack traditions makes her the perfect decoy.'*

My hands trembled as I flipped through the pages, each entry more devastating than the last.

*'Isabella took a severe injury during today's border skirmish. The attack was clearly meant for me, confirming that our strategy is working. While regrettable, her suffering serves its purpose in keeping attention diverted from Sophia.'*

I felt physically ill when I reached the entry dated around the time of my miscarriage.

*'The pregnancy was an unexpected complication. A partial rejection during the full moon was sufficient to terminate it without arousing suspicion. Isabella believes it was the stress of the pack war. Her grief is profound but will pass. The shield remains intact.'*

Emma howled within me, the sound echoing in my mind but trapped in my human form. Our pup—our precious baby—had been deliberately taken from us. Not by fate or war, but by Vincent's calculated cruelty.

I copied several of the most damning passages onto a small notepad I kept in my pocket, then carefully returned the journal to its hiding place. The panel slid shut with a soft click that seemed to seal my resolve.

Dawn found me in the ancient clearing where tradition dictated that Alphas mark their mates. The first rays of sunlight filtered through the canopy as I examined the massive oak trees surrounding the sacred space.

There, carved into the bark of the oldest tree, were practice marks—identical to the one Vincent had placed on my neck during our mating ceremony. I traced the scars with my fingertips, feeling the deliberate pattern that matched my own mark perfectly.

This wasn't sacred tradition. This was rehearsal.

As the morning light strengthened, illuminating the clearing, I saw more trees with similar markings. Each one a practice run. Each one evidence of how meticulously Vincent had planned his deception.

I pressed my forehead against the rough bark, feeling something break free inside me. The loyal, loving Luna was dying, and in her place, something colder and more dangerous was being born.

"He will pay for this," I whispered to the ancient trees that had witnessed his betrayal. "They both will."

Emma growled her agreement, her presence suddenly sharper, more focused than I'd ever felt her before.

*We are no one's shield*, she snarled. *We are the sword.*