Alpha's Rejected Pregnant Mate

I held the fragments of my family's moonstone in my bleeding palm, each shard cutting deeper than just skin. The silence in the ceremonial clearing was deafening as every pack member watched their Luna kneeling on the ground, gathering pieces of her shattered heritage.

"It was an accident," Aria's voice broke through the silence, a perfect tremor of distress coloring her tone. "I was only trying to steady her."

I looked up to see tears welling in her doe-like eyes, her slender frame trembling as she backed away from me. The performance was flawless—the frightened, innocent refugee retreating from the unstable, aggressive Luna.

"She pushed me," I said quietly, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me. "The necklace was deliberately—"

"ENOUGH!" Michael's Alpha tone slammed into me with such force that my wolf whimpered. I watched as his large hand came to rest protectively on Aria's shoulder. "Stop this, Rebecca."

My gaze locked with his, searching for any trace of the mate who once treasured me above all others. I found nothing but cold disdain.

"Alpha," Aria whispered, her voice carrying just enough to ensure everyone heard, "she's been so... different lately. I think the pregnancy is affecting her mind." A single tear slid down her cheek. "I'm scared of her."

The murmurs rippled through the gathered pack. I felt their stares like physical blows—pitying, questioning, judging.

"Luna Rebecca," Michael's voice was dangerously quiet now, formal in a way that made my blood run cold. "You will apologize to Aria. Now."

The command hung in the air between us, a final severing of whatever respect remained in our relationship. My wolf bristled, fighting against the urge to submit.

"Kneel and apologize to her," he repeated, this time with the full weight of his Alpha command behind it.

My body moved against my will, my knees hitting the ground before Aria's feet. The pain was nothing compared to the humiliation burning through me as I felt the eyes of every pack member—warriors who had once respected me, elders who had welcomed me as their Luna, younger wolves who had looked to me for guidance.

"I'm sorry," I forced through clenched teeth, the words tasting like ash.

Aria's lips curved into the faintest smile, visible only to me from my position at her feet. "I forgive you, Luna," she said sweetly. "We all understand you're... not yourself these days."

I remained kneeling as the ceremony dispersed, pack members filing away in uncomfortable silence. Only when the clearing had emptied did Michael finally acknowledge me again.

"Get up," he said flatly. "This behavior ends now."

---

The rejection papers landed on my desk with a finality that should have shattered me. Instead, I felt a strange calm as I stared at the official pack seal embossed at the top of the document.

"I've been patient enough," Michael said, pacing the study like a caged animal. "This isn't working anymore."

Through our fractured bond, I could feel his impatience—he wanted this over with quickly. He wanted to be somewhere else. With someone else.

"You want to reject me while I'm carrying your heirs?" I asked, my voice surprisingly steady.

He barely glanced at me, his attention already drifting toward the door. I could feel Aria's presence somewhere nearby, waiting. Always waiting.

"The pups will be provided for," he said dismissively. "Just sign the papers."

I picked up the document, scanning the formal language that would dissolve eight years of love, five years of being marked mates. The terms were harsh—I would be branded as "weak" and "unworthy" of the Alpha's bond.

"I'll need time to review these," I said.

Michael made an irritated sound. "Fine. Have them back to me tomorrow." He was already moving toward the door, his mind clearly elsewhere.

That night, I contacted my father's pack through our private, encrypted channel. Alpha Jonathan Sullivan's face appeared on my tablet screen, his eyes hardening as I explained the situation.

"He's rejecting you while you carry his pups?" My father's barely contained fury vibrated through the connection. "I'll bring our warriors and—"

"No," I interrupted. "I need legal help, not war."

Three hours later, I had modified the rejection papers. Small changes, subtle alterations to the language that would protect my unborn children's inheritance and status. Changes that would ensure Michael could never take them from me.

The next morning, I placed the revised documents on Michael's desk. He barely glanced at them, signing each page with quick, impatient strokes while Aria hovered in the doorway.

"Are we done?" he asked, already standing.

I nodded, gathering the signed papers. "We're done."

As I walked away, I slipped my hand into my pocket, fingers closing around the third paper star I would remove from the jar tonight.

Nine hundred and ninety-seven days left.