After My Alpha Marked the Rogue, I Ran Away Novel Cover

After My Alpha Marked the Rogue, I Ran Away

8.0 / 10.0
In After My Alpha Marked the Rogue, I Ran Away, a Luna discovers she is carrying the Alpha heir. This werewolf romance novel follows her journey from joy to a life-altering choice as she navigates the complex destiny of her pack. Read this fantasy novel for a story of loyalty and survival.
After My Alpha Marked the Rogue, I Ran Away Summary
Betrayed by her fated mate, a heartbroken werewolf flees her pack after witnessing the Alpha she loves claim a rogue female as his own. The permanent mark he gave another woman shatters their bond and her status within the community. Desperate to escape the agony of rejection and the humiliation of his infidelity, she abandons her old life. However, running away is only the beginning of a journey filled with danger, secrets, and the chance for a new destiny.
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After My Alpha Marked the Rogue, I Ran Away Chapter 1

I stared at the pregnancy test in my trembling hands, the two pink lines blurring through my tears. After months of trying, it had finally happened. I was carrying the Alpha heir.

My hand instinctively moved to my still-flat stomach, cradling the tiny life growing inside me. Our pup. Kian's and mine.

"We're going to be parents," I whispered to my wolf, Aria, who purred with contentment inside me.

I couldn't wait to see Kian's face when I told him. His eyes would light up with that rare smile he reserved only for me—his Luna, his mate, the woman he'd chosen above all others.

"He'll be so happy," I murmured, hurrying to change into the silver dress he'd bought me last month. "Today is perfect."

The pack house buzzed with activity as I made my way to Kian's office. My heart raced with each step, the secret burning inside me like a precious flame.

"Alpha Kian is in a meeting," Marcus, his Beta, warned me outside the door.

"I'll just wait," I said, my smile too bright to contain.

Something in Marcus's expression shifted—a flicker of unease that made my stomach tighten. But I dismissed it. Today was too perfect for anything to spoil it.

The door opened suddenly, and I straightened, ready to spring my surprise. But the words died on my lips.

Kian stood with his arms around Winter, the fragile Rogue he'd taken in three months ago. His hands were on her shoulders, his face buried in her neck—the intimate gesture of a wolf scent-marking another.

"Kian?" My voice came out smaller than intended.

He pulled away from Winter, but his hands remained on her shoulders. "Sienna. We were just—"

"Scent-marking," I finished, my voice hollow. "In your office. With the door closed."

Winter's eyes widened with practiced innocence. "I'm sorry, Luna. I was having a panic attack. Alpha Kian was just helping me... calming me down."

Kian nodded, his expression unreadable. "Winter's wolf is damaged. She needs reassurance."

"I understand," I said, though my wolf growled in protest. "But there are other ways to provide comfort."

"Don't be uncharitable, Sienna," Kian's voice hardened slightly. "She's been through enough without your judgment."

I swallowed the lump in my throat, one hand still pressed against my stomach. This wasn't how I'd imagined sharing my news.

---

The pack dinner that night was meant to smooth things over. I'd arranged it myself, hoping to bridge the growing distance between Kian and me.

"I made your favorite tea, Luna," Winter said softly, appearing at my side with a steaming cup. Her eyes were downcast, her posture submissive—the perfect picture of a grateful Omega.

"Thank you," I replied, taking the cup despite Aria's sudden unease.

Kian watched us from across the table, his expression softening at Winter's apparent deference.

"To the Silverclaw Pack," I said, raising my glass in a toast, desperate to restore harmony.

The dinner progressed smoothly until halfway through the main course. A sharp pain lanced through my abdomen, so sudden and intense I gasped.

"Luna?" Someone's voice sounded distant.

The pain intensified, radiating outward like fire through my veins. Something warm trickled down my legs.

"Blood," someone whispered.

I looked down to see crimson pooling beneath me, spreading across the white tablecloth like spilled wine.

"Wolfsbane," the pack healer shouted, rushing toward me. "She's been poisoned!"

Chaos erupted around me. Kian's face contorted with rage and fear. Winter backed away, hands covering her mouth in horror.

The pain came in waves now, each one stronger than the last. I clutched my stomach, a primal understanding dawning through the haze of agony.

"My baby," I sobbed as another contraction tore through me. "Save my baby!"

But it was too late. In the sterile confines of the pack hospital, I felt the tiny life inside me slip away, torn from my body by violence and betrayal.

---

"You need to rest," the healer murmured, adjusting my IV.

I lay motionless, staring at the ceiling. Three days had passed since I'd lost our pup. Three days since Kian had barely spoken to me, consumed by investigating who had poisoned me.

The door creaked open, and Winter slipped inside, carrying a bouquet of lilies.

"I thought these might cheer you up," she said softly, placing them on my bedside table.

When she was sure we were alone, her expression changed. The mask of innocence fell away, replaced by something cold and calculating.

"The Moon Goddess rejected your womb," she whispered, leaning close. "You were too weak to carry a powerful lineage."

I tried to sit up, but my body was still too weak. "What did you do?"

"Nothing you can prove," she smiled, reaching out to touch my hair with false tenderness. "And no one would believe you if you tried."

The door opened again, and Kian appeared. Winter immediately stepped back, tears springing to her eyes.

"She's accusing me," Winter sobbed. "Saying I poisoned her... that I killed the baby..."

"That's not true!" I protested weakly.

Kian's eyes darkened as he looked at me. "Enough, Sienna. Your jealousy is becoming pathological."

As Winter cried into Kian's chest, her eyes met mine over his shoulder—cold, triumphant, and filled with promise of more pain to come.

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