Broken by the Alpha: The Moon Singer's Rise

Alexia POV

Pain.

It wasn’t just a sensation; it was a universe.

It radiated from my right hand, a white-hot agony that made my vision blur and my stomach churn.

I was lying in a bed. The sharp, chemical sting of antiseptic mixed with the earthy scent of wolfsbane told me I was back in the Obsidian Pack’s infirmary.

I tried to move my hand. I couldn't. It was encased in a heavy cast, elevated on a pillow like a grotesque trophy.

Memories flooded back, violent and disjointed. The bar. The Rogues. The adrenaline spiking in my blood.

I had fought. I had run. I had made it to the edge of the woods near the mill, thinking I could hide in the shadows.

Then I saw him.

Jacob was there. He was fighting three Rogues, protecting Kassandra, who was cowering behind a pile of rubble shaking like a leaf.

I had yelled a warning. A Rogue was flanking him from the blind spot.

Jacob had turned. He saw me. And he saw the Rogue lunging at Kassandra.

He had a choice. A split-second decision that would define our entire existence. Save me from the Rogue closing in on my right, or save Kassandra.

He chose her.

He tackled the Rogue attacking Kassandra. The one attacking me clamped its jaws down on my right hand—my life, my music—and crunched.

I could still hear the sound of my own bones snapping.

I squeezed my eyes shut, hot tears leaking out to dampen the pillow.

"She's awake," a gruff voice said.

I opened my eyes. The Pack Elders were standing around my bed like vultures waiting for a carcass to cool. Jacob was there too, standing by the window, refusing to look at me.

"How is my hand?" I croaked, my throat feeling like it was filled with glass.

The Pack Healer, a kind old man named Doc Evans, looked down, his expression grim. "The bones were... shattered, Alexia. The nerve damage is severe. You will keep the hand, but..."

"Will I play?" I asked, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Doc Evans hesitated. "Not like before. Not professionally."

Silence crashed into the room.

My dream. Vienna. My music. Everything I had worked for, every scale, every hour of practice. Gone.

A sob trapped itself in my throat, burning like acid. I refused to let it out. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction.

"We need to discuss the situation," Elder Marcus said, stepping forward. He was a stern man who hated anything that disrupted his precious order. "Kassandra has been deeply traumatized by the attack. She needs stability. The Pack needs a strong Luna."

I looked at Jacob. He wouldn't meet my eyes. Coward.

"We have decided," Elder Marcus continued, his voice devoid of empathy, "to officially install Kassandra as the Acting Luna. And... we need the Moonstone. It is a Pack heirloom. It must be worn by the Luna for the protection ceremony."

They wanted to strip me of my title—which I never really had—and take my mother’s necklace to give to the woman Jacob saved while I was being maimed.

"Jacob," I whispered. "Is this your decision?"

He finally looked at me, his eyes swimming with a pathetic mix of regret and resolve. "It's for the Pack, Alexia. Kassandra... she's fragile right now. She needs the symbol of authority to feel safe. I still care about you. I'll take care of you."

"Take care of me?" I laughed, a broken, jagged sound. "You let my hand be crushed."

"It was chaos!" he defended weakly, shifting his weight. "I couldn't save everyone!"

"No," I said, my voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "You just couldn't save *me*."

I looked at my cast. Then I looked at the Elders.

"I accept," I said.

They blinked, stunned by my compliance. "You do?"

"I, Alexia Bell, reject the title of Luna. I don't want it. It's tainted."

I reached up with my good left hand and unclasped the Moonstone. It felt warm against my skin, pulsing with a faint light only I could see.

"But," I said, holding it tight before handing it over. "I have conditions."

"Conditions?" Elder Marcus scoffed. "You are an Omega."

"I am the victim of your Alpha's negligence," I snapped, my voice gaining steel. "Condition one: You pay for my medical bills. All of them. Including reconstructive surgery if I find a specialist abroad."

Jacob nodded quickly, desperate to alleviate his guilt. "Done."

"Condition two," I continued. "You pay me royalties for every single healing song I composed that you use in this Pack. Retroactively."

"That's absurd!"

Kassandra burst into the room. She was wearing a silk robe, looking perfectly fine, not a scratch on her. She looked like a princess interrupting a funeral.

She marched over to Jacob, clutching his arm, glaring at me. "She's greedy, Jacob! She's trying to bankrupt us!"

"Then stop using my music," I said calmly. "Let the wolves go mad without my lullabies. See how long your 'stability' lasts."

The Elders exchanged nervous glances. They knew the power of my songs. They knew the peace I brought was the only thing keeping the feral instincts at bay.

"Fine," Jacob gritted out. "We will pay."

"Good," I said.

I tossed the Moonstone onto the bedspread. It landed near Kassandra’s hand.

She snatched it up like a greedy child, a triumphant smile spreading across her face.

"Now get out," I said, turning my head away. "All of you. I'm tired."