The Silent Luna: Rejected by the Blind Alpha

Elena POV:

The annual Founders' Gala. Crystal chandeliers, velvet, and lies.

I stood by the buffet, wearing a silver gown I bought myself. Dante was across the room, surrounded by Elders, looking like a king.

Next to him was Sofia. She wasn't his Mate, but she stood in my spot.

"Attention!" Gamma Marco shouted. "The time capsule from five years ago!"

He pulled out a pink envelope. "Sofia! 'I wish to be the most famous she-wolf in Vogue!'"

The crowd chuckled. Then, Marco's face softened. "A letter from our Luna. Elena."

My blood ran cold.

Marco read it. "To my Alpha... I don't need to be your Queen. I just need to be your home."

Silence descended.

Across the room, Dante went rigid. The fog in his eyes seemed to lift for a second. He looked at me, really looked at me, as if seeing the woman beneath the title.

He took a step toward me. Elena...

SCREAM.

Sofia dropped her wine glass. "Hunters! Outside! I saw a silver gun barrel!"

It was a lie. I could smell the lack of fear on her. Her pulse remained steady.

But Dante didn't check. His conditioning kicked in.

"Warriors! Perimeter!" he roared.

He sprinted toward Sofia, shielding her. "Get her to the safe room! I'll lead the hunting party!"

He vanished into the night.

I stood alone. No hunters came.

I walked over to the fireplace and picked up my letter.

"Stay here, Luna. It's safe," a guard said.

"I know," I said.

I tossed the letter into the fire. The words 'I will be your anchor' turned to ash.

"Goodbye, my Alpha," I whispered.

3:00 AM. My suitcase was packed and hidden.

The bedroom door kicked open. Dante stumbled in, smelling of copper blood and sulfur.

He collapsed. "Trap... Hunters... ambushed us."

I moved automatically. "Where is she?"

"Sofia... scratched. Fine. Taken to... guest house," he gasped. "My back... silver dagger."

I ripped his shirt open. The wound was black and sizzling.

"This will hurt," I said.

I placed my lips over the wound.

I pulled.

Agony exploded in my mouth, but something was different. Usually, drawing silver poison left me bedridden for days. Tonight, as the black blood hit my tongue, a cool, white energy surged from my core, neutralizing the acid before it could damage me. My wolf purred, strong and unbothered.

I spat the blood into a basin. Dante's breathing leveled out.

"Elena," he murmured.

I stitched the wound. His phone buzzed.

Airline Confirmation: One-way ticket to San Francisco. Passenger: Elena Moretti.

Dante blinked at the screen. "You're leaving?"

"My mother," I lied. "She wants me to buy art for the gallery."

Dante stared at me. He was high on pain relief and blood loss. His brain accepted the lie because the alternative-that I was actually leaving him-was impossible to his arrogance.

"Art," he chuckled. "Go then."

He grabbed my waist, pulling me down. "You healed me. The bond... it's strong tonight."

He kissed my jaw. And I smelled her sweat on him.

Nausea rolled over me. I pushed him away. "No."

"I am your Alpha. I need this."

"I am your doctor," I said, my voice shaking. "Not your whore."

Dante flinched. "You're being difficult. Is this about the party?"

"Go to sleep, Dante."

I locked myself in the bathroom. I looked in the mirror. My eyes were glowing that strange silver again. The poison hadn't blistered my lips. I was changing.