Rejected Mate's Stand

Sleep eluded me that first night back. Every creak of the omega quarters reminded me how far I'd fallen, every distant sound from the upper floors a reminder of the life stolen from me. When soft footsteps approached my door near midnight, my weakened wolf stirred with alarm.

A gentle knock interrupted my brooding. "Ava? It's Mrs. Chen."

I opened the door to find the pack healer carrying a steaming mug and a medical bag, her kind eyes filled with concern. "You shouldn't be here," I whispered, glancing down the empty hallway. "If Clark finds out—"

"Let me worry about the Alpha," she said firmly, stepping inside and closing the door behind her. "You look like you haven't slept properly in months, child. And those scars..." Her healer's instincts took over as she studied the marks on my neck and hands.

She handed me the mug—chamomile tea with something stronger mixed in. "For the pain. Both kinds." Her fingers gently examined the area around my hearing aid. "The rogue attack did more damage than just your hearing, didn't it?"

I nodded, sinking onto the narrow bed. "My connection to my wolf... it's barely there anymore. Sometimes I can't feel her for hours."

Mrs. Chen's expression darkened. "While you were fighting for your life, sacrificing everything for this pack, do you know what was happening here?"

I shook my head, though part of me dreaded the answer.

"Luna Kennedy wasn't just playing house with your mate," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I've been watching, Ava. Late-night meetings with strangers, luxury purchases that don't match her supposed income, financial discrepancies that started appearing right after she moved into the Luna suite."

My hands tightened around the warm mug. "What kind of discrepancies?"

"Pack funds going missing. Small amounts at first, then larger sums. Always with explanations that sounded reasonable—medical supplies, territory maintenance, visiting dignitary expenses." Mrs. Chen pulled out a small notebook from her medical bag. "I keep track of all medical purchases for the pack. These numbers don't add up, child."

She showed me pages of meticulous records, her handwriting documenting purchases that never arrived, expenses that seemed inflated, patterns that painted a disturbing picture.

"You think she's stealing from the pack?"

"I think Luna Kennedy has been very busy while you were gone. And I think you still have access to records that might prove it." Mrs. Chen's eyes met mine meaningfully. "Your Luna codes—they change the main entry systems, but financial records? Those require council oversight to modify."

The next morning, I waited until the pack house settled into its daily rhythm. Clark would be in his office handling Alpha business, Luna would be holding court in what used to be my sitting room, entertaining the wives of visiting pack members. I slipped into the administrative wing, my heart pounding as I approached the financial records terminal.

My hands shook as I entered my Luna access codes. The screen flickered, then displayed the familiar interface I'd used countless times before my departure. Mrs. Chen was right—they hadn't revoked my financial access.

What I found made my blood run cold.

Transfers to external accounts, all authorized with Luna's signature. Purchases from luxury suppliers that had nothing to do with pack needs. Medical expenses that were triple what Mrs. Chen's records showed. The pattern was clear and damning—Luna Kennedy had been systematically draining pack resources for months.

But it was the communication logs that made my wolf howl with rage. Encrypted messages between Luna and someone identified only as "S.R." The timestamps showed regular contact throughout her entire relationship with Clark, messages that grew more frequent as her pregnancy progressed.

S.R. Sean Robinson. Her former mate.

My fingers flew over the keyboard, accessing the werewolf council's secure communication network. It took three attempts to locate Sean Robinson's contact information—he'd moved territories twice in the past year, a pattern consistent with someone trying to avoid detection.

The encrypted message I sent was simple: *"This is Ava Harper, Luna of Moonstone Pack. I need to speak with you about Luna Kennedy. It's urgent."*

The response came faster than I expected: *"I wondered when someone would finally ask. She told me you were dead. Meet me at the Crossroads Diner, Route 47, tomorrow at noon. Come alone."*

I stared at the screen, my heart racing. Luna had told her former mate I was dead. The depth of her deception was staggering—she hadn't just stolen my life, she'd erased my very existence from everyone who might have questioned her rise to power.

As I logged out of the system, footsteps echoed in the hallway outside. I quickly gathered the printed records, my hands shaking as I realized the magnitude of what I'd discovered. Luna Kennedy wasn't just a friend who'd betrayed me for love—she was a calculating thief who'd been playing a long game from the moment I left for the northern territories.

The footsteps paused outside the door, and I held my breath, clutching the evidence against my chest. Tomorrow, I would meet Sean Robinson and learn just how deep Luna's web of lies extended. Tonight, I would plan my next move carefully.

Because if Luna thought she could steal my life and my pack's resources while I was fighting for their survival, she was about to learn exactly what a true Luna was capable of when pushed too far.