After My Mate Crowned His Mistress Luna, I Fled

I stood before the mirror in my small room at the edge of the pack house, smoothing down the white dress I'd spent weeks altering. The fabric was worn at the seams, but I'd carefully sewn tiny pearls along the neckline to hide the imperfections. Tonight was supposed to be my night—the night Zane would finally mark me as his Luna under the full moon.

"It has to fit perfectly," I whispered to my reflection, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. My fingers trembled slightly as I fastened the last button. "The Goddess doesn't make mistakes, Amelie. You are his fated mate."

My wolf, Luna, stirred weakly inside me. She'd been quiet for years, beaten down by the pack's whispers that we were too weak to be Alpha material. But today she seemed to hold her breath with hope.

I grabbed the small bouquet of moonflowers I'd picked at dawn—a traditional gift for a Luna's coronation. Their silver-blue petals glowed faintly in the dim light of my room.

"You look...adequate," came a voice from the doorway. I turned to see Mira, one of the Omega staff, eyeing my dress with undisguised contempt. "Though I doubt it matters what you wear. Everyone knows tonight is just a formality."

I swallowed hard but forced a smile. "Thank you for your help with the alterations."

She snorted. "Just doing my job. Though I pity the needle that had to work on that ancient thing." She flicked her wrist dismissively. "The main hall is almost ready. Though between us," she leaned closer, lowering her voice, "I heard they're setting up something special for Peyton."

My heart stuttered. "Peyton?"

"Just gossip," she shrugged, already turning away. "Probably nothing."

But the knot in my stomach tightened as I made my way through the pack house. Whispers followed me, eyes darting away when I caught them staring. I'd endured years of this—being the "weak" fated mate, the she-wolf who couldn't shift properly, who couldn't command respect.

Tonight would change everything.

* * *

The grand doors to the banquet hall loomed before me. I paused, smoothing my dress one last time, and pushed them open.

Music blasted me—not the traditional Luna coronation chant but something modern and raucous. Streamers hung from the ceiling in bright colors, balloons bobbed against the walls, and a massive banner stretched across the far end:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY PEYTON!

My bouquet slipped from my fingers as I froze in the doorway. The hall was packed with pack members, all dressed in party attire, drinking and laughing. No one noticed me standing there, a ghost in a white dress.

"Amelie?" Marcus, Zane's Beta, appeared at my side, his expression unreadable. "You shouldn't be here yet."

"I—I was told to come at eight," I stammered.

He shifted uncomfortably. "Look, maybe you should—"

But I was already moving through the crowd, my heart pounding so loudly I was sure everyone could hear it. That's when I saw them.

Zane stood at the center of the room, magnificent in his formal Alpha attire. And beside him, radiant in a gown of deep crimson, was Peyton—her golden hair cascading down her back, her smile triumphant.

In his hands, Zane held something that caught the light—the ancestral Moonstone Necklace, the sacred jewelry piece passed down through generations of Lunas. It was never to leave the Alpha's possession except to adorn his chosen mate's neck.

"Happy birthday, my love," Zane's voice carried across the room as he fastened the necklace around Peyton's throat. The moonstone pendant nestled perfectly between her collarbones, glowing with an inner light that seemed to illuminate her entire face.

The pack erupted in cheers as Zane pulled her close, his lips meeting hers in a deep, possessive kiss.

"My true Alpha couple!" someone shouted, and the crowd echoed the sentiment.

I stood frozen, watching as my world collapsed around me.

* * *

The bathroom stall door shook as I pressed my forehead against it, trying to steady my breathing. Tears burned behind my eyelids, but I refused to let them fall. Not here. Not now.

The door swung open, and two voices entered—female warriors from their scent.

"Did you see her face?" One laughed, the sound like glass breaking. "Standing there like some abandoned puppy."

"Peyton said she'd show up eventually," the other replied, the sound of lipstick being applied punctuating her words. "Said she needed to see it with her own eyes before the final act."

"God, I can't wait until midnight. When Zane calls her to the stage—"

"For her marking ceremony," the first one giggled.

"And instead rejects her using the formal Alpha command!"

Their laughter echoed off the tiles as my blood turned to ice.

"Can you imagine? The look on her face when he says, 'I, Alpha Zane of the Silver Moon Pack, reject you, Amelie Clark, as my mate'?"

"Public rejection. Stripped of all protection. Peyton will be officially installed as Luna, and that pathetic little omega-wolf will be nothing."

I pressed my hand against my mouth to stifle the sob building in my throat.

"Peyton's been planning this for months," one whispered. "She's been wearing his scent for so long, half the pack thinks they're already mated."

Their laughter faded as they left the bathroom, unaware of my presence.

In the sudden silence, I slid to the floor, my legs no longer able to support me.

Midnight. They planned to destroy me at midnight.

And I had nowhere left to run.