The Rejected Luna Returns as the Rival Alpha’s Mate

I parted my lips to answer, but Malven’s father cut in smoothly.

“Enough of that,” he said. “How is Ryke? I heard Rivelle may be carrying again. Is it true?”

I stayed silent, fingers clutching my skirt. My chest ached as though it might split.

“You see,” his mother went on coolly, “she brings new life into Malven’s pack without chaos. No outbursts. Calm. Proper. Unlike… some.”

I lowered my eyes.

Then his father’s voice fell like an iron gavel.

“Go assist the kitchen wolves. But first, pour our tea. Inform Malven we expect him at the Moon Hall next week for our mating anniversary. You may bring your ailing pup if you wish.”

I nodded, voice barely sound. “As you command.”

I went to the hearth-kitchen, told the cook they preferred jasmine leaves, arranged the tray myself. Polished porcelain. Balanced. Flawless. Yet inside me, something was screaming itself raw.

As I set the cups down, my hand trembled. One slipped and shattered against the stone with a sharp, final crack.

His mother gasped—then glared.

“You’ve always been careless,” she snapped. “Even pouring tea is beyond you. Bitter, just like the life you lead.”

I stared at the broken shards, then straightened my spine.

“Forgive me,” I whispered. Not for the cup. Not for today. For the girl who once begged them to accept her. That girl had died with Elian.

They didn’t stay for a meal.

Malven’s parents rose, faces carved from quiet contempt. His mother adjusted her gloves slowly, deliberately.

“I’ll tell Malven how feeble you’ve become. Perhaps now he’ll see the truth. You never belonged here. Never worth the inconvenience.”

The doors closed. Hooves rolled down the drive. Silence reclaimed the stronghold—the same silence that had lived here long before Malven ruled it.

I turned to the maid. “You can stand down. Lunch won’t be needed.”

She nodded. I climbed the stairs, one heavy step at a time. My legs felt borrowed, my body distant.

Halfway up, whispers drifted from the kitchen—low, quick.

“She didn’t even cry.”

“Did you see the urn in her chamber? That pup… Elian… gone.”

“Alpha Malven only speaks of Ryke now. Sends Lady Rivelle moon-flowers. Never visits the burial stone.”

“Even if he did, it wouldn’t matter. Elian was too gentle. Always prey.”

“She used to be Luna here. Now? Just surviving.”

I kept walking. Didn’t turn. Didn’t defend myself. Perhaps they weren’t wrong.

I entered my chamber and closed the door.

My communicator chimed. It was from Malven.

Once. Twice. I stared until it went dark. No message. No follow-up.

The silence returned—heavy, settled, permanent.

***

I changed in quiet.

I chose the soft blue dress Elian loved, stitched with small white clouds. He used to press his tiny hands against it and smile. “Mama, you look like the moms in story scrolls,” he’d say. “The safe kind. The happy kind.”

I lifted his urn, holding it as though I were holding him again, heart to heart. Warm sunlight spilled through the curtains.

I left the stronghold without a word and drove to the only place Elian had ever begged to visit on his name-days—Moonveil Park.

“Just once, Mama,” he’d whisper every year. “I want to see the sea-wolves. I’ll behave. I promise.”

Malven always refused. Too dangerous. Too fragile. Too sickly. The world was perilous for Elian—but never for Ryke.

I bought a pass. Paid for two seats—one for me, one for him.

I kept him with me, told him stories, laughed softly as the sea-creatures leapt through the waves.

Those nearby may have thought me unbalanced—sitting on a bench, murmuring to a blue urn as if it might answer.

I didn’t care.

This day wasn’t for them. Not for Malven. Not for his pack. Not for his bloodline. Not for Ryke.

It was for Elian. Only him.

I lit a small candle by the railing, letting the wind toy with the flame.

“Happy name-day, my pup,” I whispered.

When I returned, night had swallowed the stronghold, turning its glass halls into long, dark veins. The air felt thick. Even the lights seemed afraid to burn bright.

I stepped into the foyer.

And Malven emerged from the shadows.

Before I could draw breath, his hand struck my face—fast, savage. The crack echoed through the halls like thunder. My head slammed into the doorframe. White stars burst across my vision. A ringing filled my ears.