The Vanished Luna: Returning to Reject the Alpha

Janette POV:

The Pack Medical Center smelled of bleach and lies.

"Your hormone levels are erratic, Janette," Dr. Evans mumbled, typing away. "It's consistent with Omega Hysteria."

"I'm grieving, not hysterical."

"Garrison thinks you might be a danger to yourself."

Right on cue, Sarah, the Alpha's assistant, walked in with a stack of files.

"The Alpha requested you sign these today," Sarah said.

I opened the folder. Transfer of Property Rights. Power of Attorney. And buried in the middle of a fifty-page rider: Dissolution of Mating Bond - Preliminary Agreement with a clause for 'Unfit Mental State'.

My heart slammed against my ribs. He was trying to legally commit me and strip me of my status simultaneously.

"He said it's just a formality," Sarah said, tapping her pen. "Standard asset protection while you get... help."

She exchanged a knowing look with the doctor. They were going to lock me up.

Garrison was arrogant. He thought I was the stupid little Omega who just signed where the 'X' was.

"I need the digital pad," I said softly. "My hands are shaking too bad for a pen."

Sarah sighed, annoyed, and loaded the docs onto a tablet. "Fine. Just thumbprint the bottom."

I took the tablet. My mother taught me the pack's digital archive system inside and out. I knew the backend of this software.

There was a loophole. If the 'Alpha Consent' field was pre-authorized, the dissolution became effective immediately upon the Omega's signature, bypassing the waiting period.

Garrison hadn't signed it yet, wanting to hold it over me. But his digital key was cached on this tablet. Sarah used it for everything.

"Screen's frozen," I lied.

Sarah leaned over. "Give it here."

She tapped the screen aggressively. In her haste to refresh the page, she hit the 'Auto-Fill Alpha Credentials' prompt that popped up.

A green checkmark appeared next to Garrison's name.

He had just technically consented to a no-contest divorce.

"There," she shoved the tablet back. "Sign it."

I pressed my thumb down. Document Executed. A phantom weight lifted off my chest. Legally, I was free.

"Done," I whispered.

"Good." Sarah snatched the tablet. "Go home, Janette."

I didn't go home. I went to my mother's cottage.

I dug into the dirt with bare hands, hunting for roots. Nightshade. Foxglove. And the purple mushroom that stops a heart just long enough to fool a doctor.

My mother taught me to heal. But she also taught me that the only difference between medicine and poison is the dose.

I returned to the mansion late. I walked into the master bedroom and stopped dead.

Keyla was spinning in front of the mirror, wearing my ceremonial Luna robe.

Garrison sat on the bed, watching her with hungry eyes.

"It fits you much better than it ever fit her," he said.

Keyla giggled. "Smells a bit like wet dog, though."

I gasped. They turned.

"Oh, Janette," Keyla smirked. "Sneaking around like a rat."

"What are you doing here?" Garrison demanded.

"This is my room. That is my robe."

"Not anymore," Garrison said coldly. "Keyla is moving into the master suite. Her apartment is being... renovated."

A lie.

"Where am I supposed to sleep?"

"The guest room down the hall. The small one." The servant's quarters.

Keyla rested her head on his shoulder. "And Janette? I have a list. My laundry needs hand-washing. The silk is delicate."

"You want me to be your maid?"

"You need to contribute," Garrison said, eyes dead. "Since you can't shift, can't hunt, and can't give me strong pups... you can serve those who do."

The insult hit like a physical blow. My inner wolf went silent. Not in fear, but in ambush.

"Fine," I said.

I walked to the windowless room, sat on the cot, and pulled the poisonous roots from my pocket.

This wasn't a home. It was a cage. And I was going to burn it down.