The Rejected Luna's Secret: Awakening the White Wolf

Kelsey POV:

Just as I predicted, the internet was flooded with images of the so-called "Test of Loyalty."

It had gone exactly as I expected. A Rogue—clearly a staged actor, likely paid off by Aria—had attacked. Bennett had intervened, taking a "grievous wound" to protect his pregnant mate.

The photo on the screen was a masterpiece of propaganda. It showed Bennett in his human form, blood streaming down his chest, standing over a weeping Aria.

The caption read: *Blood for Blood. Love Conquers All.*

I stared at the pixels, waiting for the familiar pang of panic. But I felt nothing. Absolute zero.

I zoomed in on Bennett's face. He looked pale, his skin waxy under the camera flash. The claws had gone deep. Wolfsbane, perhaps? If the rogue had been armed with treated claws, the healing would be slow and agonizing.

A year ago, I would be mixing poultices right now. I would be pacing the floor, my heart in my throat, already packing a bag to rush to his side.

Now, I simply closed the tab.

I picked up my paintbrush. The canvas in front of me was a swirl of grays and blues, a storm breaking apart to reveal a white moon.

My phone rang, shattering the quiet. It was Mark.

I hesitated, watching the name flash on the screen, then answered.

"What do you want, Mark?"

"The Alpha... he's asking for you," Mark said, his voice tight with stress. "He's feverish. The wound isn't healing right. He keeps mumbling about the Luna."

"Aria is right there," I said, my voice devoid of sympathy.

"He means you, Kelsey."

"I am not the Luna," I reminded him. "I resigned."

"He wants you to come to the Coronation," Mark said, abruptly shifting tactics. "He thinks... he thinks it would show unity. If you gave Aria your blessing, the Elders would calm down. He's willing to pay for your flight. He even bought you a gift."

I laughed. It was a harsh, jagged sound that startled me.

"A gift?"

"A necklace," Mark said, sounding hopeful. "Sapphires. He said they match your eyes."

The silence that followed was heavy.

"My eyes are hazel, Mark," I said softly. "Aria has blue eyes."

Dead silence on the other end.

"Tell him no," I said, cutting the cord. "Tell him I'm busy living my life. And Mark? Tell him that the next time he wants to stage a fight to impress a girl, he should make sure the rogue doesn't use real poison."

I hung up before he could stammer a reply.

I looked back at the painting. It needed something. It was too cold.

I dipped my brush in red paint. Not the color of blood. The color of life. Of roses. Of dawn.

With a steady hand, I slashed a vibrant red line across the gray storm.

My Inner Wolf stretched inside me, shaking off her slumber. She felt stronger today. The phantom weight of the Pack was gone. I didn't have to worry about the harvest. I didn't have to worry about heirs.

I just had to worry about me.