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Rejected By The Alpha, Claimed By The Lycan Novel Cover

Rejected By The Alpha, Claimed By The Lycan

I was the Luna of the Silvermoon Pack, bound in a political marriage to Alpha Jace for three miserable years. But because I was a "wolfless" runt, he never touched me. Instead, he moved his late brother's widow and her bratty son into my wing, publicly treating her as his true mate. He let her son destroy my parents' only surviving photograph and demanded I apologize to the boy. When my cruel grandmother summoned us to the Winter Solstice Conclave—a deadly trial—Jace knew I would be brutally tortured if I arrived without my Alpha. Yet, he chose to stay home to comfort his mistress over a fake stomach ache. "I never wanted a wolfless mate," he had sneered, abandoning me. He handed me over to the Blackwood Pack's Terrace of Correction. Forced to my knees, the silver-laced stone burned my flesh while the blizzard froze my blood. As my vision darkened, I realized he had intentionally sent me here to die. I had swallowed my pride for three years, hiding my true identity and the signed rejection papers I had tricked him into signing, only to be thrown away like trash for another woman's fake tears. Just as I prepared to let the darkness take me, the impenetrable iron gates of the Keep were obliterated by a massive black Maybach. Baron, my terrifying Lycan cousin, stepped into the storm and scooped my scorched body into his arms. "Short every stock tied to the Silvermoon name," he ordered into his phone, his eyes locked on my abusers. "I want Jace begging on his knees by sunrise."
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Chapter 2

Elyse POV

The morning sun did nothing to chase away the chill in my bones as I sat inside Talia Casey’s discreet Upper East Side law office. The scent of old paper, rich mahogany, and Talia’s expensive Chanel perfume filled the room—a sanctuary of human order, far removed from the primal chaos of the werewolf world.

Talia pushed a thick stack of papers across her desk, her sharp eyes narrowing. "Elyse, I won't draft a surrender. Jace moved his mistress and her brat into the Luna's wing. That’s a blatant violation of the infidelity clause. We can take half the Blackmoon estate."

"I don't want his money, Talia," I said, my voice steady. "I want a Decoy Rejection. Draft an agreement where I walk away with absolutely nothing. Make it look pathetic and submissive. Stroke his massive ego so he signs it immediately."

"Why would you let him win?" Talia demanded, slamming her pen down.

I reached into my bag and slid a sealed medical file over the desk. "Because of this. Three years of marriage, Talia. Look at the physical exam."

Talia opened the file, her eyes scanning the text before widening in horror. "You're... unmarked? You never even consummated the bond?"

"He claimed he was saving himself for his 'true mate,' which he clearly believes is Ciera," I said, the humiliation a dull ache I had long since buried.

"Elyse, this is abandonment. It's fraud in both human and Pack law!"

"It doesn't matter," I leaned forward, lowering my voice as if the shadows could hear us. "Hilda Blackwood is sending trackers."

The color instantly drained from Talia’s face. She was human, but she knew enough about my past to understand the sheer terror attached to the Blackwood Pack's matriarch.

"If I drag Jace through a public, messy divorce, the media will swarm. Every Pack will be watching," I explained, my hands trembling slightly before I forced them to still. "If Hilda finds out where I am, she will drag me back to that hell. I cannot risk it. I need to be a ghost."

Talia stared at me for a long moment, the fight leaving her shoulders. "Okay," she whispered. "I'll draft the decoy. We'll make him think he broke you."

By the time I returned to the Blackmoon Pack House that afternoon, the invasion of my territory was already underway.

I stopped dead in the grand foyer. The magnificent, centuries-old tapestry depicting the Moon Goddess—a sacred piece of Pack history—was crumpled on the marble floor like trash. In its place hung a massive, garish photo of Leo playing on a beach, encased in a cheap neon plastic frame.

Ciera stood nearby, directing two Omega servants. When she saw me, she offered a sickly sweet smile. "Oh, Elyse. I hope you don't mind. It was just so dreary in here. I wanted to add some of our family's warmth."

I stared at the plastic frame, my voice dropping to a glacial calm. "Some things represent legacy, Ciera, not warmth. They demand reverence, not plastic frames."

Ciera’s eyes instantly welled with tears. Right on cue, the heavy oak doors of the study opened, and Jace stepped out.

His jaw was clenched, his Inner Wolf, *Titan*, clearly agitated by the territorial discord. But instead of assessing the situation, his eyes locked onto Ciera’s fake tears. He marched over, wrapping a protective arm around her waist before glaring at me.

"She lives here now, Elyse," Jace commanded, his Alpha tone lacing the air with heavy, suffocating pressure. "Be tolerant. This is my Pack House."

He expected me to fight. He expected the *wolfless* Luna to throw a pathetic tantrum over a tapestry.

Instead, I looked at the man who had never truly been my husband, feeling the last chains of my emotional attachment shatter into dust. I offered him a calm, almost obedient nod.

"You're right, Alpha," I said softly. "This is your Pack House." I paused, letting my eyes drift from his face to the cheap plastic frame, and back again. "And soon, it will be entirely yours."

Jace frowned, a flicker of deep confusion and sudden irritation crossing his features. He didn't understand the double meaning. He didn't realize I had just handed him his crown of ashes.

Without another word, I turned my back on them and walked toward the stairs, needing to prepare myself for the mandatory family dinner tonight.

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