The Rejected Luna Returns as the Rival Alpha’s Mate

My pup, Elian, died because my Alpha mate, Malven Wolfsbane, cut off my moon-accounts. Not because our pack was poor—but because his favored she-wolf whispered poison into his ear. He was busy soothing her pup’s fabricated belly pain beneath the healer’s lamps.

I called from the Moonfang Infirmary, blood-moon light flickering over white stone.

“Malven… please,” I begged through the crystal link. “He’s dying.”

“Viora, stop this nonsense,” he snapped. “Ryke is crying in pain. If you summon me again, I’ll invoke the severance rite. Deal with it yourself.”

The link shattered.

Two hours later, my pup died in my arms, his small body shaking as moonfire faded from his veins.

“Mom… it hurts…” he whispered.

I held him long after his heart went still, until the healers pried him from me beneath the silent Moon Mother’s gaze.

That night, I bowed before my father—the Alpha Sovereign I had once defied.

“I will accept Raizen’s bond,” I said.

The rival Alpha King I had rejected because I believed Malven loved me.

Before the bond was announced, I returned to the manor for one last thing: Malven’s bloodmark on the severance decree.

He was laughing with his favored she-wolf when I entered. Her pup lunged for my satchel, tore it open—and the urn etched with lunar runes shattered.

Elian’s ashes spilled across the sacred marble.

I screamed and fell to my knees, scooping what I could—until the pup giggled and ground his heel into my pup’s remains.

Malven didn’t stop him.

He snarled at me instead. “Viora, stop behaving like a mad wolf!”

By dawn, the bond was severed. Then I disappeared.

Weeks later, whispers spread across the Wolfsbane Pack.

When Malven finally saw us standing together beneath the coronation moon, his blood ran cold.

He stepped forward, desperate.

“Viora… come back to the pack. Please. I was wrong. I’ll make it right. Just return to me.”

——

My mate, Malven Wolfsbane, was an Alpha Lord—ruler of the Wolfsbane Pack.

Cold. Unapproachable. Revered by wolves who would spill blood at a single command.

And yet, on the night our pup was dying, he was in another moon-healer’s hall, soothing his favored she-wolf because her pup suffered nothing more than a minor stomach pang.

I called him from the Moonveil Infirmary. I begged him to release my sealed lunar accounts. I needed silver marks for the high healer. I needed the transfer now—or my pup would not survive.

He exhaled sharply, irritated. “Viora, stop acting. Ryke is truly unwell. I won’t indulge your jealousy.”

“Malven, please,” I cried. “Elian can’t breathe. Just let me pay the healer—”

“If you summon me again, I’ll invoke the severance rite,” he cut in. “Deal with it yourself.”

The bond-link went dead.

Just like that. As if our pup meant nothing.

So I stayed alone beside a pup who trusted me with his entire world.

I held Elian’s hand as moonlight drained from his skin. I whispered to him while the crystal runes dimmed to silence. I kissed his brow and watched his chest still forever. My arms locked around him until the healers gently forced me to let go.

***

The Moonfire Chamber smelled of scorched stone and cold iron. Ash motes drifted through pale light filtering from the high windows. Perhaps some of them already belonged to another grieving mother.

Soon, my pup would join them.

I stood in a black mourning robe hanging loose on my hollow body. My eyes were swollen, but no tears came anymore.

I slipped my hand beneath the white shroud and touched Elian’s fingers—cold, unmoving. I placed two small blue paper stars into his palm. I had folded them the night before with trembling hands, unsure what a mother was meant to give her pup for his final crossing.

“Elian…”

The attendants exchanged looks and drew back the cloth.

There he was. My Elian.

Seven winters old, yet far too small, as though life had been starving him long before death arrived.

Cracked lips. A fragile chest. Bruises from healing needles marked his arms.

There was no peace in him—only fear. Only pain. All because his Alpha father chose another wolf’s pup over his own.

I stood frozen. Too tired to scream. Too empty to cry. I had sworn to protect him.

And I failed.

A healer murmured, “I’m sorry. The sickness spread too quickly. Without the Moon Sage, there was no chance.”

I said nothing.

I brushed his hair from his eyes. He always hated when it fell there.

Then I whispered, “You may release him. Let him go where pain cannot follow.”

They hesitated, then placed his tiny body into the moonfire. Perhaps they pitied me. Perhaps they felt nothing.

I felt nothing too.

Elian was free now. No more waiting for love that never came. No more questions that cut me open every time.

Mom, why doesn’t Father visit me?

Mom, why does he only care about Ryke?

Mom, did I do something wrong?

I remembered every lie I told to shield him. Every truth I swallowed to keep his heart whole.

But Malven broke him anyway.

My mate sealed my accounts while our pup was dying. He chose his favored she-wolf’s pup over his own blood.

I pressed my cheek to Elian’s forehead and whispered, “Mama’s here. Mama’s here. You have me.”

But I was too late.

He crossed the veil without waiting for his father. Without hearing Malven’s voice one last time. Without the healer who could have saved him—because I could not pay.

Ever since Rivelle returned with her gentle smiles and false tears, Malven treated me as a threat. He confined me within the stronghold. Called me unstable. Told the entire dominion I was jealous, delusional, dangerous.

“You harmed Rivelle and her pup,” he once said coldly. “I’ll make you repay it twice over.”

And he did. He stripped my life down to nothing but loss.

Now I stood outside the Moonfire Hall, clutching the urn they gave me.

Small. Light. Blue.

Elian loved blue. I pressed it to my chest as if it still held warmth.

“We’re going home, my pup,” I whispered.

The sun shone bright. The air was warm. Yet winter crept beneath my skin. I felt empty. I felt alone.

When I returned to the Alpha stronghold with Elian’s ashes, the first thing I saw was Rivelle. Her hand rested on Malven’s arm. She leaned in and kissed his cheek in gratitude.

“Thank you for staying last night,” she said softly. “Ryke feels much better now. But is Elian well? Viora called earlier and sounded so—”

Malven didn’t move away. His hand stayed at her waist. Calm. At ease.

“Viora exaggerates to gain attention,” he said carelessly. “She’s always been dramatic. Unbalanced. A poor mother. I regret coddling Elian—he grew weak.”

I stopped breathing. The urn nearly slipped from my hands. I thought I had no tears left, but they fell anyway—silent and burning.

If he wanted her, he could keep her.

Malven finally noticed me in the corridor. His hand dropped from Rivelle’s waist. His expression flickered—guilt, or perhaps annoyance.

“You should have warned me you were returning,” he muttered. “I would’ve sent someone.”

He didn’t mention the night I begged for help after being stranded near his coastal territory, followed by strangers. He said he was busy.

When I asked for guards, he snapped that his warriors weren’t servants and threatened divorce if I kept acting helpless.

I walked alone that night and nearly vanished into a van. When I called him in terror, he said, You’re foolish for going alone. What did you expect?

But when Rivelle needed transport, he sent escorts. Wolves. Himself.

I tightened my grip on the urn and said quietly, “It’s fine.”

He studied me for a long moment. Something strange crossed his gaze.

“…Did Elian recover?” he finally asked.