Rejecting My Cruel Alpha For His Rival

Elara Thorne POV:

The villa was opulent, decorated in creams and golds with a soft, feminine touch that screamed Serena. It was a home built on lies and betrayal. My home. The home Ryker should have shared with me.

Serena was lounging on a plush velvet sofa, draped in a silk robe. She had one hand resting on her perfectly flat stomach, a picture of serene, victorious motherhood. A smug smile played on her lips.

“Welcome, dear sister,” she purred, her voice dripping with venomous sweetness. “Do you like the little nest Ryker built for me?”

I ignored the jibe, my gaze as cold and hard as steel. “Why did you bring me here, Serena?”

She rose gracefully from the sofa and glided toward me, circling me like a predator sizing up its prey.

“Don’t be so tense,” she chuckled, a low, nasty sound. “I just wanted to reminisce. About the past. Specifically, about five years ago. In the Silver Mist Forest.”

My heart gave a painful thud against my ribs. The day Ryker was ambushed by rogues. The day he almost died.

“You know,” she continued, her finger tracing a line just below her collarbone, “Ryker has always believed it was me who saved him.”

My breath caught in my throat. I stared at her, my brain is trying to process this layer of meaning.

Her smile widened, turning cruel. “He believes it was me who ran into a clearing full of silver-tripwires, who threw myself in front of him to take a silver-tipped arrow meant for his heart.”

To punctuate her words, she pulled aside the collar of her robe, revealing a faint, pinkish scar just below her collarbone.

“See?” she said, her voice triumphant. “The proof. A mark of my love and sacrifice.”

My world tilted. I stared at the scar, and my own hand flew to the same spot on my body, hidden beneath my dress. The location… it was identical. But hers was a pale, thin line, like a scratch from a kitten. Mine, the one I had hidden for five years, was a deep, puckered, silver burn that still ached on cold nights.

It was me. I was the one who had saved him. I had been gravely wounded, pulled from the clearing by our warriors while Ryker was already unconscious. I never spoke of it, never used it as a bargaining chip. I thought my actions were enough. I thought love didn't need to keep score.

How wrong I was.

“Your scar is fake,” I whispered, my voice trembling with a rage so profound it was seismic.

Serena let out a peal of laughter. “Does it matter if it’s real or fake? The only thing that matters is that *he* believes it’s real. He fell in love with the hero I pretended to be.”

And just like that, everything clicked into place. All of it. His devotion, his guilt, his unwavering defense of her, his coldness toward me—it was all built on this one, monstrous lie.

*Tear her apart!* Lyra shrieked in my mind, a feral, bloodthirsty howl.

“Why?” I gritted out, my teeth clenched so hard my jaw ached. “Why would you do this?”

Serena’s smile vanished, replaced by a twisted mask of jealousy and pure hatred. “Why? Because you had everything, Elara! You were born to be Luna. You were destined for him. The Moon Goddess gave you everything I ever wanted. So I decided to take it. Your mate, your status, your life. All of it.”

The sheer audacity of her evil was stunning. All the years of sisterly affection, a complete and utter sham.

A fire ignited in my chest, a white-hot inferno of fury that threatened to consume me whole. I looked at her smug, triumphant face, and for the first time in my life, I felt the cold, clear desire to kill.

I took a step forward, my hands clenched into fists, my nails digging painful crescents into my palms.

Serena saw the murder in my eyes. She didn't flinch. In fact, her smile returned, wider and more malevolent than before. This was what she wanted. She wanted me to lose control.

Because her little play wasn't over. She was just waiting for the main audience to arrive.