“Alpha’s Fake Heiress: The Luna He Rejected”

They said the mark of a rejected Luna fades in time but no one told me it would take my soul with it.

The rain hadn’t stopped since the ceremony.

It fell hard and cold, washing the blood off my hands but never the shame from my skin.

My body ached with tiredness as I stumbled through the narrow alleys of Los Angeles, the city that once sparkled for me now nothing but smoke and shadows. Every corner smelled of oil and deception. Every echo reminded me of the moment my name was pulled from me like skin torn from bone.

Somewhere far behind, the DeLuca guards still searched. I could hear the growl of their engines, the barked directions over radios.

I pressed myself against a collapsing brick wall and swallowed a sob.

“This can’t be happening,” I whispered. “It can’t.”

The rain dripped into my hair, sealing it to my cheeks. I remembered Lorenzo’s face cold, detached, merciless as he crowned Aurora in my place. The pain felt fresh, sharp, alive.

You were never meant to wear my mark.

Those words looped in my head like a curse.

A shadow moved at the end of the alley. My muscles tensed. I turned, ready to run until I recognized him.

The scarred driver from before.

He approached slowly, his dark coat soaked through, his face opaque beneath the falling rain. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said quietly.

I laughed bitterly. “And where should I be? Buried under the DeLuca estate?”

He didn’t move. “They’re searching every street. There’s a reward on your head.”

My stomach twisted. “Lorenzo wants me dead?”

He paused. “Not Lorenzo. His council. But they’ll use his name to excuse it.”

I felt dizzy. The world tilted around me. “Who are you?”

He looked around before answering. “Matteo Rossi.”

The name hit me like a spark. “Rossi… as in the Rossi syndicate?”

His look was sharp. “I see you know the name.”

“Everyone does,” I said. “Your family runs half of California’s underworld.”

“And yet here I am,” he said, “helping a Luna with nowhere to go.”

I didn’t believe him. But I didn’t have a choice. “Why are you helping me?”

He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Because I owe someone a debt. Someone who believed you were innocent.”

I frowned. “Who?”

Matteo looked away. “You’ll find out soon enough. For now, we need to move.”

He looked toward the end of the alley where lights flashed. “They’re closing in.”

I felt fear rush through me. “Where will we go?”

He pointed toward a rusty grate at the ground. “Down there.”

My heart sank. “That’s a sewer.”

“Better dirty than dead,” he said simply, prying the grate open. “Move.”

The smell hit me like a punch. I paused at the edge, looking down into darkness.

Matteo gave me a small, impatient push. “Go.”

I dropped into the cold water below, biting back a cry as the filth soaked my torn gown. He followed, slamming the grate shut above us. The world turned black except for his small flashlight beam.

The air was damp, thick, and smothering. The tube stretched forever ahead.

We started walking.

My shoes squelched in the water. My breath rang against the stone walls.

“Why is this happening?” I whispered. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

Matteo’s voice came from behind me, calm and short. “Truth doesn’t matter when power’s involved.”

I turned to face him, anger and sadness colliding. “They humiliated me in front of everyone! My mate, my family, my entire world gone in one night. And you’re telling me to just accept it?”

His face relaxed, barely. “No. I’m telling you to survive it.”

His words hung heavy in the silence.

We walked for what felt like hours. At times, I thought I could still hear the guards above their boots, their snarling dogs, the faint metallic smell of silver guns.

My body shook from the cold and fear. But Matteo never slowed.

“Why did Aurora come back?” I asked suddenly. “She was gone for years. Everyone thought she was dead.”

“Maybe someone needed her alive again,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

He didn’t answer.

The flashlight flickered. I saw his scar catch the dim light and old cut that seemed to hold its own story.

We reached a junction. He stopped listening. “They’re above us. We’ll take the lower passage.”

I followed him down a steep path. My gown snagged on the edge of a pipe. I tore it free. “Do you work for the Rossi syndicate or against them?” I asked.

He smirked weakly. “That depends on who’s paying me.”

“So I’m just a job to you?”

He looked at me for a long time. “Not exactly.”

The way he said it made my pulse skip. But before I could ask more, the roof rumbled. Dust rained down.

“They’re detonating the access tunnels,” Matteo mumbled. “We need to move.”

I stumbled as we ran. My legs screamed with pain.

“Why are they doing this?” I cried. “They already destroyed my name!”

“Because dead Lunas don’t tell secrets,” he said grimly.

We turned another corner and froze.

A group of armed men stopped the path ahead, flashlights cutting through the dark.

Matteo swore. “Stay behind me.”

He drew a gun from his belt, his moves quick and sure. Shots echoed, loud in the cramped space. Water splashed. Someone screamed.

I pressed against the wall, shaking, covering my ears.

When quiet fell, Matteo turned to me, gasping. “Come on.”

My heart was hammered. “You killed them.”

He looked at me coldly. “They would’ve done worse to you.”

I followed in silence. My gut churned not just from fear, but from something deeper, heavy.