The Unwanted Luna: Secret Heiress Of The White Wolf

Eliana POV:

The coffee was bitter, mirroring the pitch-black night pressing against the diner windows.

I sat in the corner booth of a 24-hour diner on the very edge of the territory, watching the rain streak the glass like tears.

My phone buzzed against the Formica table. It was Sarah.

*Eliana, are you okay? The gossip mill is practically melting down. They say Dustin is tearing the Pack house apart, claiming he’s looking for a missing file.*

I took a slow sip, letting the caffeine spread warmth through my chest.

*I'm fine, Sarah. I left.*

*Finally!* Sarah’s mental voice screamed with palpable joy. *That man is absolute trash wrapped in Armani. But... be careful. He's spinning a narrative. He's telling people you're sick, unstable.*

*Let him talk,* I replied.

A notification popped up on my screen. Sarah had sent a screenshot from Instagram.

It was a photo posted ten minutes ago by Jami. She was at the Pack dinner. She was wearing a dress.

My dress.

It was an emerald green gown, custom-commissioned in Milan. Dustin had bought it for our anniversary, claiming the shade perfectly matched my eyes.

Yet, I had never worn it. He always insisted the occasion "wasn't special enough" to debut it.

In the photo, Jami was draped over Dustin’s shoulder, her hand resting possessively on her stomach. Dustin looked calm, his arm tight around her waist. The caption read: *Stepping up when others step out. #LunaDuties #FutureAlpha.*

I stared at the image. It wasn't the dress that hurt. It was the ease with which he replaced me.

Dustin hadn't "forgotten" the dress belonged to me. He simply didn't care.

To him, objects—and people—were interchangeable parts in a machine. If one component stopped functioning, you didn't fix it; you just swapped it out.

*He looks happy,* I thought, a pang of old love trying to surface.

He looks like a fool, my Inner Wolf snarled in correction. Look closer at his eyes.

I zoomed in.

Dustin’s smile didn't reach his eyes. There was a visible tension in his jaw.

Without my pheromones to act as an anchor, the volatile stress of his Alpha blood was already building to toxic levels.

Jami couldn't calm him; she was a delicate Omega with zero training in energy regulation. She wasn't a partner; she was a distraction.

Abruptly, a jagged wave of anxiety slammed into me through the *Mate Bond*.

It wasn't my fear. It was his.

He was looking for me. Not out of love, but out of desperate need. He needed his stabilizer.

My lawyer, Laura, messaged me.

*Avi, the Head of Security, just flagged me. Dustin is demanding your location.*

*Don't give it to him,* I typed back.

*I won't. But you need to know... he's authorized a total freeze on your joint accounts.*

I let out a soft, dry laugh.

He actually thought money was the leash that would heel me.

He conveniently forgot that long before I was Mrs. Powell, I was Eliana David—sole heiress to the David mining dynasty.

I closed my eyes. The bond tugged at my navel, a fishing line trying to reel me back into the dark. It felt dirty.

*I'm done being the battery you drain just to keep yourself bright, Dustin,* I thought.

I finished my coffee and stood up.

I had one stop to make before I left the city for good. There was something in that house that money couldn't buy, and I wasn't leaving it for Jami to defile.

It was time to walk back into the lion's den.