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Rejected by the Alpha, My Luna Roared Novel Cover

Rejected by the Alpha, My Luna Roared

The screams reached me first. High-pitched and terrified, they tore through the pack house like claws ripping through flesh. My heart stopped mid-beat as I recognized the voice—Emma. "MOMMY!" I dropped the basket of herbs I'd been gathering and ran, my feet barely touching the ground as I raced toward my daughter's cries. The scent hit me next—blood, so much blood, mixed with the putrid stench of rogues. "Emma!" I screamed, my voice breaking as I burst through the garden doors. Pack members were rushing in every direction, warriors shouting commands as they pursued something—or someone—fleeing through the western border. But I couldn't focus on that. All I could see was Martha, our elderly pack healer, kneeling over a small, crumpled form on the grass. My baby.
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Chapter 2

The moment Marcus's cold words echoed through our mind-link, something inside me shattered.

A white-hot pain seared through my chest, radiating outward like molten glass being torn apart. I gasped, clutching at my heart as the mate bond—that sacred connection I had cherished and protected for ten long years—finally snapped under the weight of his ultimate betrayal.

My wolf howled in agony, her cries reverberating through my mind as she thrashed against the walls of my consciousness. Through her eyes, I saw flashes—Marcus standing tall and proud in the Golden Dawn Pack's ceremonial clearing, his arm wrapped possessively around Victoria's waist. Her smug smile as she leaned into him. The glittering celebration lights. The champagne glasses raised in their honor.

All while our daughter lay dying.

"Luna Isabella?" Martha's voice seemed to come from far away. "The Alpha's blood is working. The child stabilizes."

I blinked, forcing myself back to the present. Alexander knelt beside us, his powerful presence a stark contrast to the absence of the man who should have been here. Emma's breathing had steadied, the terrible wounds on her throat and chest already beginning to close under Martha's skilled hands and Alexander's potent blood.

"Thank you," I whispered, meeting Alexander's intense gaze. "You saved her when..."

"When her father wouldn't," he finished quietly, his eyes darkening with controlled rage. "I know."

Something shifted between us in that moment—an understanding, a recognition. I saw in his eyes that he knew exactly what had happened, perhaps had known for years what Marcus had been doing.

I made my decision then, with my daughter's blood still drying on my hands and the phantom pain of my shattered mate bond burning in my chest.

* * *

Three days later, I stood on Whispering Hill, the neutral territory that marked the border between Silver Moon and Shadow Ridge lands. The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the grass as I waited, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Emma was safe at the pack house with Martha, her wounds nearly healed thanks to Alexander's blood. I had told no one where I was going.

He arrived exactly when promised, alone as I had requested. Alexander's tall figure materialized from the tree line, his powerful stride eating up the distance between us. Up close, the contrast between him and Marcus was even more striking—where Marcus exuded arrogance, Alexander radiated quiet strength.

"Luna Isabella," he greeted me formally, though his eyes held warmth.

"Just Isabella," I corrected him. "I'm not sure I'm still a Luna after what happened."

He studied me for a long moment. "The mate bond?"

"Broken," I confirmed, surprised by how steady my voice sounded. "When he chose Victoria over our dying daughter, it shattered completely."

Alexander nodded, as if he had expected this. "Why did you ask to meet me here?"

I took a deep breath, squaring my shoulders. "I want to propose an alliance."

His eyebrows rose slightly, but he remained silent, waiting for me to continue.

"I know you've had territorial disputes with Marcus for years. I know you've wanted to expand Shadow Ridge's boundaries into Silver Moon territory." I met his gaze directly. "I'll help you. I'll give you information, pack secrets, weaknesses—everything you need to challenge and defeat him."

"And what do you want in return?" His voice remained neutral, but I could sense his keen interest.

"Protection for Emma. And for me." My voice didn't waver. "Marcus will be furious when he returns. When he realizes the bond is broken, that I know about Victoria... I don't know what he'll do. But I know he's not the man I thought he was. Not the Alpha he should be."

Alexander stepped closer, his presence both intimidating and reassuring. "You're asking me to go to war with another Alpha. To risk my pack members' lives."

"I'm asking you to do what you've wanted to do anyway," I countered. "Just with inside help this time."

A hint of a smile touched his lips. "You're more strategic than I expected."

"Ten years as Luna teaches you things, even when your mate keeps you at arm's length."

He considered me for a long moment, then extended his hand. "We have an alliance, Isabella."

As our hands clasped, I felt something I hadn't experienced in years—hope.

* * *

The pack house was in chaos when I returned. Voices raised in anger echoed through the halls, and the scent of fury—Marcus's fury—permeated the air.

I found them in the main hall: Marcus standing with his fists clenched, Victoria hovering at his side like a beautiful shadow, and Emma, my precious Emma, sitting up in a makeshift bed, pale but alive.

Marcus whirled toward me as I entered. "Where have you been?" he snarled, his eyes flashing with rage. "And what the hell is this I hear about Alexander Cross being in our territory? Giving blood to MY daughter?"

I met his gaze calmly, feeling strangely detached from his anger. "Someone had to save her life while you were celebrating with your... chosen mate."

His face contorted with shock at my tone, at the cold indifference where there had always been submissive respect. Victoria's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"How dare you speak to your Alpha that way," she hissed.

I ignored her completely, moving past them both to Emma's side. My daughter reached for me, her small face lighting up despite her weakness.

"You feel different, Mommy," she whispered as I took her hand.

Behind me, Marcus's rage built like a gathering storm. "Isabella," he growled, his voice dropping to a dangerous register. "What have you done?"

I turned to face him, feeling stronger than I had in years. "What have I done? No, Marcus. The question is: what have you done?"

The look of confusion on his face would have been almost comical if the situation weren't so dire. He genuinely didn't understand what had changed—or that everything had.

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