Rejected by the Alpha, Claimed by the King

The first time the Former Luna appeared at my cottage door, I nearly bolted it shut. Her elegant frame silhouetted against the evening light, she looked like an apparition—beautiful, ethereal, and unmistakably Antonio's mother.

"Hattie," she said softly, "may I come in?"

I stepped aside wordlessly, my hand instinctively moving to my growing belly. Three months now, and the tiny life within me was becoming more insistent with each passing day.

"I've brought proper provisions," she said, setting down a basket far more substantial than Mikayla's token offerings. "And some healing herbs."

She moved through my small cottage with practiced grace, arranging items on my sparse shelves. I watched her warily, unsure why Antonio's mother would risk her son's displeasure by visiting me.

"Antonio is occupied with border negotiations," she explained, as if reading my thoughts. "He won't know."

"Why are you helping me?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

She turned to me, her eyes—so like Antonio's—filled with something I couldn't quite name. "Because what he's doing is wrong."

The simplicity of her answer stunned me into silence.

"Sit," she instructed gently. "Your hands are trembling."

I obeyed, sinking into the chair by my small table. She pulled another chair close, her movements deliberate and calming.

"I brought something else," she said, producing a small wooden comb from her pocket. "May I?"

After my hesitant nod, she began to braid my hair in intricate patterns, her fingers working with practiced skill.

"When I was young," she said, her voice rhythmic with the movements of her hands, "my mother taught me this. She said it was a meditation—a way to calm the wolf when the mind cannot."

I felt the tension in my shoulders ease slightly as she worked.

"Your wolf is suffering," she continued. "The rejected bond pains her."

"Yes," I admitted, tears threatening. "It never stops."

"The braiding helps," she said simply. "Each pattern focuses the mind on something other than pain."

She taught me slowly, patiently, until my fingers could mimic her movements. The concentration required was surprisingly soothing—my wolf quieted marginally as I focused on the intricate weave.

"Endurance is its own form of power," she said as she finished the final braid. "Remember that."

Over the following weeks, she came regularly—always when Antonio was away, always with something new. Healing teas for my nausea. Proper food for the pup. And stories.

"The Moon Goddess does not make mistakes," she would say, her eyes distant as she spoke of her own mate bond. "Antonio fails to see true strength."

I clung to her words like lifelines in a storm.

---

Mikayla's smile widened as she watched me cross the pack grounds, my belly now prominently rounded at five months. "Oh, Hattie," she called, her voice honey-sweet poison. "You're looking... healthy."

I kept my eyes forward, one hand protectively cradling my stomach.

"Everyone's talking," she continued, falling into step beside me despite my obvious discomfort. "About how... convenient this all is."

My steps faltered. "What do you mean?"

"Well," she said, her voice carrying just enough to reach nearby ears, "some are wondering if the pup is truly Antonio's."

The blood drained from my face. "That's a lie."

"Is it?" She shrugged delicately. "You were seen with several males before the rejection. And now, suddenly, you're carrying a pup..."

"That's not true," I whispered, my voice shaking.

"Truth doesn't matter," she replied, her smile never wavering. "Perception does."

As she walked away, I heard the whispers start—hushed voices behind hands, eyes that followed me with new suspicion.

---

"Careful, little sister," Mikayla said, her hand suddenly on my arm as I walked past the pack gathering area. "You look unsteady."

Before I could react, her grip tightened—then slipped. I stumbled forward, arms windmilling as I fought to regain my balance.

A collective gasp rose from the watching pack members as I teetered at the edge of the stone steps. For one terrifying moment, I thought I might fall—might harm my pup.

Strong hands caught me from behind, steadying me before I could tumble. Not Antonio's—those hands would have sent pain shooting through our damaged bond.

"Easy," Ryan, the Beta, murmured. "You okay?"

I nodded gratefully, straightening slowly.

Mikayla's expression was perfectly crafted concern as she approached again. "I'm so sorry! You just seemed so distracted lately."

Behind her, I saw Antonio watching, his face unreadable. Mikayla turned to him, her voice carrying.

"It's not good for morale," she said, loud enough for nearby wolves to hear. "Her presence undermines your authority... and my position."

Something flickered in Antonio's eyes—doubt? Regret? Before I could decipher it, Mikayla's hand slid possessively over his arm, and his expression hardened once more.

"She needs to be kept away from pack gatherings," Mikayla continued, her voice dropping to a stage whisper. "For everyone's sake."

As they turned away, I caught the satisfied gleam in my half-sister's eyes. Her plan was working perfectly.