20 Years His Luna, Branded a Rogue for a Vanilla Omega

"Bow to the true Luna," Jace repeated.

He pressed the bone blade a fraction closer. A tiny bead of blood welled against the sharp edge, trickling down my neck.

"Move the knife, Jace," I warned.

"Not until you submit."

"You are my son. You do not give me orders."

"You are nothing to me now! Submit!"

"I bow to no one," I answered, keeping my voice dead level. "Especially not to a pup who hasn't even seen her first winter hunt."

"She is your Luna!" Jace yelled.

"She is a parasite."

"Watch your mouth, Mother," Jace warned.

"Or what? You will slit my throat in front of the entire pack?" I challenged, locking eyes with my son. "Do it, Jace. Show them the coward your father raised."

"Enough," Kael growled. He stepped around Jace, his massive frame blocking the bonfire's light. "Make her kneel, Jace. Break her legs if you have to."

"You want me broken, Kael?" I asked. "Do it yourself."

"I don't dirty my hands with traitors."

"Since when?" I mocked. "You had no problem dirtying them when we slaughtered the northern scavengers together."

"That was a different lifetime," Kael replied coldly.

Suddenly, Lyra gasped. "Alpha, wait—my stomach!"

"Lyra?" Jace dropped the blade and spun toward her. "What is it?"

"It burns!" Lyra cried out.

She doubled over. She clutched her middle tightly and staggered sideways, throwing her weight toward Kael. Her flailing arm swiped across the altar stone.

The second ceremonial chalice tipped over.

Silver liquid splashed onto the dirt floor.

The moment the sacred spring water touched the earth, it hissed. Thick, black smoke plumed upward. The silver pooled into a dark, bubbling venom. It burned a vicious scorch mark into the grass, eating through the roots in seconds.

"Poison," Elder Thorne shouted. He pointed a trembling finger at the puddle.

"Keep back!" a warrior yelled.

"The altar is cursed!" another voice screamed.

Lyra sobbed wildly. She buried her face in Kael's chest. "She tried to kill me, Kael! The water—she prepared the altar!"

"I didn't touch the spring water," I stated.

"Liar!" Jace shouted. "You were the only one up here!"

"I prepared the wine," I corrected him. "Thorne brought the water."

Thorne stepped back, his face pale. "I drew it from the moon well, Luna. It was pure when I set it down."

"Then she tainted it while we waited," Kael accused.

"Why would I poison the water?" I asked. "I was going to drink from it too."

"You wanted to kill Lyra," Jace said. "You knew she would drink first as the new Luna."

"I didn't even know she existed until five minutes ago!" I argued.

"She is a witch!" someone shouted from the back of the crowd.

"She cursed the land!" another added.

"Silence!" Kael roared, his voice booming over the clearing.

Kael didn't listen to reason. His eyes locked onto the bubbling black sludge, then snapped directly to me. The cold indifference vanished, replaced by pure, unadulterated hatred.

"You poisoned the blessing," Kael snarled.

"Are you blind?" I shot back. "Your Omega just knocked it over. She brought the taint! She is the curse!"

"She is pure!" Kael roared.

He lunged.

Kael's large hand clamped around my throat. The sheer force lifted me completely off my feet.

"Kael!" I choked out.

He slammed me backward. My spine hit the jagged edge of the altar steps.

Pain exploded through my ribs. The impact drove all the air from my lungs in a sharp, violent rush. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't form a single word.

"Did you think I would let you murder my chosen?" Kael barked. He leaned in, his face mere inches from mine.

I clawed at his wrist. "I… didn't."

"You are no mate of mine. You are a murderer."

He tightened his grip. My vision grayed around the edges. Black spots danced across my eyes.

With his free hand, he grabbed the neckline of my white dress. He yanked hard. The heavy fabric tore straight down the middle, exposing my collarbone and the faded crescent moon mark resting just above my left shoulder.

The night wind bit into my bare skin.

I stared up into his eyes. Gold flared in his irises. Not a shred of hesitation existed in that gaze. His disgust was a physical blade, carving away every shared memory. Not a single flicker remained of the man who used to trace that very mark with reverence.

These were the same fingers that used to weave wildflowers into my hair during the spring festivals. Now, they were a pair of iron tongs crushing my windpipe.

My hands dropped to my sides.

I stopped fighting.

I let the cold air sweep over my torn clothes and my bruised skin. I let him see what he was doing. Let him feel the life draining from the woman who had fought beside him for twenty years.

His jaw flexed. He didn't care.

"Look at her," Jace sneered from somewhere above us. "She isn't even denying it."

"Why would she?" Kael spat. "Her jealousy has rotted her mind."

I swallowed against the agonizing pressure of his thumb. "You… are a fool."

"And you are exiled," Kael proclaimed. He didn't look at the crowd. He kept his furious gaze pinned to my face. "Thorne, bring it."

"Bring what, Alpha?" Thorne stammered.

"The branding iron," Kael commanded.

A collective gasp rippled through the pack.

"Alpha, please," Thorne begged. "She was your Luna for two decades. Banishment is enough."

"She attempted to murder my new mate," Kael countered. "She will carry the mark of a traitor until the day she dies. Bring it!"

Footsteps hurried across the dirt.

"Alpha, are you certain?" Thorne asked. His voice wavered.

"Bring the iron!" Kael roared.

A bright orange glow illuminated the side of Kael's face. The intense heat radiated outward, warming the freezing sweat on my neck.

Thorne pulled the long metal rod from the ritual fire pit. The heavy iron tip glowed white-hot in the dark.

Kael snatched the handle from the Elder.

He held the glowing metal up. The reversed letters branded into the raw iron spelled a single, damning word.

*Rogue.*

"Hold her steady, Jace," Kael ordered.

My son grabbed my shoulders, pinning me flat against the harsh stone.

"Don't move, Mother," Jace whispered. "It will only hurt more if you struggle."

"You are no son of mine," I replied.

Kael lowered the searing iron, stopping exactly one inch above my mate mark.