Rejected Luna, Claimed by Daddy Alpha
On the day of her coming-of-age transformation, Viya recognized Alpha Lucius as her destined mate.
From that moment on, she chased him relentlessly-ignoring his indifference,defying Alpha Caesar, the most powerful Alpha in North America who had raised her.
At twenty-one, she finally married him.
Not because he loved her-but because she was useful.
She was obedient. Considerate. Replaceable.
She silenced his family's demands for a Luna.
She managed his household flawlessly.
For three years, she played her role perfectly.
Until the night she planned to celebrate his birthday.
That night-she overheard everything.
He had poisoned her.
Just to make room for Miranda.
In that moment, she finally understood-the marriage she had sacrificed everything for was nothing more than a placeholder he intended to discard.
Then her phone rang.
Alpha Caesar.
The Alpha she had resisted for three years.
The man who had never stopped waiting for her return.
"When are you coming back?"
This time, she didn't hesitate.
"In a month."
One month to end a marriage built on lies-
and return to the Alpha she was never meant to escape.
Chapters
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Chapter 1
Viya's POV
I adjusted my hair one last time in the silver-framed mirror of our penthouse bathroom.
The woman staring back at me looked softer than I felt. My loose black waves fell over my shoulders, my makeup was delicate, and the crimson dress beneath my black cashmere coat made my skin seem even paler. It was bolder than anything I usually wore. Not vulgar. Not desperate. Just brave enough to say what I had been too afraid to say for three years.
Tonight was our third wedding anniversary.
Three years of being Luna Wilde. Three years of sleeping beside Lucius without ever receiving his mark. Three years of pretending the distance between us was patience instead of rejection.
Serena, my wolf, stirred weakly in my mind. "You look beautiful."
"Do you think he'll notice?" I whispered.
She was silent for a second too long.
I smiled at my reflection anyway. "He has to notice eventually."
Even the coldest Alpha could soften, couldn't he? Even a marriage that began for politics could grow into something real.
At least, that was what I told myself as I drove to the private club where Lucius had gathered with several ranked members of the Wilde Pack. I had prepared his anniversary gift. I had planned a quiet dinner after the meeting. I had imagined, foolishly, that tonight he might look at me not as a suitable Luna, not as a useful alliance, but as his wife.
The hostess recognized me the moment I entered.
"Luna Viya," she said with a respectful bow. "Alpha Wilde is in the Moonstone Room."
"Thank you."
My smile was calm. My hands were not.
As I approached the private room, I heard Lucius's voice through the half-open door.
"I don't know how much longer I can keep pretending."
I stopped.
His tone was raw, intimate, filled with a tenderness I had begged the Goddess to hear from him even once.
A woman answered with a soft laugh. "Then stop pretending."
My blood turned cold.
Lucius exhaled heavily. "Every night I go back to her, I feel like I'm betraying myself."
Her. Me.
My fingers curled around the edge of the wall.
"Lucius," the woman murmured, "you're married."
"I never loved Viya."
The words did not explode. They sank. Quietly. Deeply. Like a silver blade pushed between my ribs.
"She is your fated mate," the woman said, though her voice sounded too pleased to be truly concerned.
"There is no bond," Lucius said coldly. "There never was. She was convenient. A respected wolf doctor. Obedient. Well-connected. The Wilde Pack needed stability, and marrying her gave me exactly that."
Serena whimpered inside me.
I pressed a hand over my mouth.
Convenient.
That was what I had been. Not wife. Not mate. Not Luna in his heart. Just a solution to a political problem.
The woman sighed. "And when will you divorce her?"
"Soon." Lucius's voice lowered. "The herbs are working. In a few more months, her wolf will be too weak to carry pups. Once the pack doctor confirms she cannot provide heirs, I'll have legal grounds to end the marriage."
For one terrifying moment, the hallway disappeared.
The tea.
The special tea he personally prepared every evening. The one he said would strengthen Serena. The one I drank because I trusted him.
"You're sure she won't suspect?" the woman asked.
Lucius gave a low, dismissive laugh. "Viya? She is too eager to please me. Too grateful for scraps. She would drink poison from my hand if I told her it was medicine."
My nails dug into my palm until pain cleared my head.
The woman whispered, "You are still too kind to her."
"I'm not cruel," Lucius replied. "When this is over, I'll compensate her. She has been dutiful."
Dutiful.
I almost laughed.
He was stealing my health, my future, my chance at motherhood, and still wanted to believe he was honorable because he planned to pay me afterward.
Then the woman asked, "Have you thought about names? For our baby?"
"Our baby?" Lucius sounded stunned. "I thought the child was Alexander's."
Alexander.
His dead brother.
The world narrowed to one name.
Miranda.
My sister-in-law. The grieving widow I had comforted. The woman I had brought soup to after the funeral. The woman whose hand I had held while she cried into my shoulder.
A bitter calm settled over me.
So that was why Lucius had never truly seen me. His heart had not been empty. It had been occupied by his brother's widow.
Serena snarled weakly. *Record it.*
My shaking fingers found my phone. I opened the recorder and let the truth continue to spill from the room.
Miranda's voice turned sweet again. "If Viya refuses the divorce?"
"She won't." Lucius sounded certain. "She avoids conflict. She will cry quietly, sign whatever I put in front of her, and thank me for not abandoning her with nothing."
Something inside me snapped cleanly in half.
No.
I would not cry quietly. I would not thank him. And I would not let either of them decide how my story ended.
I stopped the recording, forwarded it to Sophia, my closest friend and the sharpest divorce attorney in the werewolf community, and typed only one line.
[I need you. Divorce papers. Now.]
Her reply came almost immediately.
[FINALLY! On my way. Meet me at Moonlight Bar in 30.]
I looked once more at the half-open door.
Inside, my husband was planning my ruin with the woman he loved.
Outside, I straightened my coat, lifted my chin, and walked away.
For the first time in three years, I did not feel like Alpha Lucius Wilde's neglected Luna.
I felt like his biggest mistake.
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7.3
I was tracing the gold paint on my own tombstone when a hand tapped me on the shoulder.
It was Clayton.
The same man who, five years ago, had left me bleeding out in a ditch because he didn't want to be late for my sister's engagement party.
"Die quietly, Ivy," he had said over the phone before hanging up.
Now, standing over my grave, he dropped his cheap plastic flowers in shock.
"Ivy? You're... we buried you."
They hadn't buried me.
They had buried an empty box to save face, mourning a "troubled" daughter they had actually discarded like broken trash the moment I became a liability.
Clayton's shock quickly turned to that familiar, arrogant anger.
He accused me of faking my death for attention.
He told me I was sick for putting the family through such pain.
He even reached out to grab my arm, intending to drag me back to my father to apologize.
"You're coming with me," he spat. "You owe us an explanation."
But he made a fatal mistake.
He thought he was talking to Ivy Dillard, the soft girl who cried when she skinned her knees.
He didn't notice the town car waiting at the curb, or the man stepping out of it.
Before Clayton's fingers could graze my coat, a hand made of steel caught his wrist.
Collin Richardson, the most feared Capo in Chicago, stepped between us.
"Touch my wife again," Collin whispered, his voice promising violence. "And you lose the hand."
I smiled at the terror draining the color from Clayton's face.
I didn't come back from the dead to explain myself.
I came back to bury them.
7.1
I was the Architect who built the digital fortress for the most feared Don in New York.
To the world, I was Brendan Wiggins’s silent, elegant Queen.
But then my burner phone buzzed under the dinner table.
It was a photo from his mistress: a positive pregnancy test.
"Your husband is celebrating right now," the caption read. "You are just the furniture."
I looked across the table at Brendan. He smiled and held my hand, lying to my face without blinking.
He thought he owned me because he saved my life ten years ago.
He told her I was just "functional." That I was a barren asset he kept around to look respectable, while she carried his legacy.
He thought I would accept the disrespect because I had nowhere else to go.
He was wrong.
I didn't want to divorce him—you don't divorce a Don.
And I didn't want to kill him. That was too easy.
I wanted to erase him.
I liquidated fifty million dollars from the offshore accounts only I could access. I destroyed the servers I had built.
Then, I contacted a black-market chemist for a procedure called "Tabula Rasa."
It doesn't kill the body. It wipes the mind clean. A total hard reset of the soul.
On his birthday, while he was out celebrating his bastard son, I drank the vial.
When he finally came home to find the empty house and the melted wedding ring, he realized the truth.
He could burn the world down looking for me, but he would never find his wife.
Because the woman who loved him no longer existed.
8.8
The only thing more dangerous than the game is the man guarding the crease.
Lyon Navarro has spent his entire career tearing down the San Diego Stormbreakers. As the city's most ruthless journalist, he's made an art form out of exposing the Alphas' volatile tempers and their scandalous lives off the rink. He's the man they love to hate-until a desperate management team offers him the biggest paycheck of his life to fix their image.
The assignment? Tame the six most notorious werewolves in the league.
But Lyon isn't just dealing with professional athletes; he's stepping into a den of apex predators who have been waiting for him to cross their territory. And they have no intention of playing nice.
Rafael Stone, the team's intense, iron-willed captain, has made one thing clear: if Lyon wants to manage the pack, he's going to have to survive them. But between the locker room tension, the high-stakes pressure of the season, and the way the pack's gazes feel like a physical brand on his skin, Lyon realizes he's no longer just reporting the story-he's the one being hunted.
In a world of adrenaline, cold ice, and raw, lupine desire, Lyon is about to discover that the line between enemy and lover is thinner than a skate blade.
Six Alphas. One PR strategist. And a season that's about to get very, very hot.
Beyond the Ice is a high-stakes, slow-burn MM hockey werewolf romance. Expect intense power dynamics, sizzling tension, and a pack that doesn't just want to win the cup-they want to claim their man.
8.7
For eighteen years, I lived as the lowest Omega in the Silver Moon Pack, surviving only because Alpha Gideon took me under his wing.
But the moment his coffin was lowered into the ground, his wife and the new Alpha son immediately turned on me.
"Her presence has brought a curse upon us!"
Luna Lyra pointed a trembling finger at me in the freezing rain, blaming me for Gideon's sudden death.
She stripped me of my pack ties and permanently exiled me into the deadly wilderness with nothing but a wooden toy.
The entire pack watched with cold contempt as I was thrown out like garbage.
To make matters worse, the new Alpha later hunted me down in the woods, threatening to kill me just to steal the only thing Gideon had secretly left behind for me—an ancient, unreadable book.
I didn't understand why they hated me so deeply, or what terrifying secret this blank book held that made my own pack want me dead.
But the moment my foot crossed the pack boundary, an ancient, immense power I never knew I had snapped free inside my veins.
I was no longer their weak Omega.
And when I escaped deeper into the forest and crashed straight into the arms of a wounded Rogue, my destiny completely rewrote itself.
Because he wasn't just a Rogue, but the legendary Northern Alpha King.
And as his glowing golden eyes locked onto mine, our inner wolves roared the exact same word:
"Mate!"
7.0
I thought running from the mate who used me as a pawn and rejected me would be the end of my cruel fate.
I was wrong.
I ran straight into a pack that didn't just hate me, but also wanted me dead.
My alpha stepbrothers: Quin, Rio, and Hunter.
They're called the Three Devils: dangerous, wild, and untamed.
Quin wants to claim my rut. Rio wants to mark me. And Hunter? He's ready to burn the world just to make me his.
But the Moon Goddess doesn't play fair. Pack laws don't bend...not even for Alphas.
And now we're trapped in a web of fate that will either bind us together or tear us apart completely.
This is a dangerous game, and I dread who the winner will be: the feral alpha, the biker president, or the sex god?
7.4
I was the wife of Damien Valenti, the most ruthless mafia Don in Chicago.
But to cement his power and marry a rival family's daughter, he exiled me to the slums without a single dime.
"Stay not as my wife, Izzy, but as my whore."
That was his final ultimatum before dumping me out of his black SUV like trash.
Terrified of losing me, my five-year-old son, Angelo, secretly hid in the car to follow me.
Two days later, in a squalid Indiana motel, Angelo caught severe pneumonia.
I had no money and no doctor. In sheer desperation, I sliced my own wrist with broken glass, pressing my bleeding arm to his pale lips, begging him to drink and live.
But my little boy died in my arms.
Meanwhile, hundreds of miles away, Damien was sipping vintage champagne with his new bride, casually dismissing the life of his own flesh and blood.
The grief turned me into a monster. I spent twenty years clawing my way through the underworld to destroy his empire, only to die with a bullet in my chest.
I gave him my absolute devotion, yet he traded our family for political power without a single ounce of hesitation.
Opening my eyes again, I was back in that hellish neon-lit motel room.
Angelo was burning with fever and fighting for air, but he was still breathing.
This time, I wasn't the naive girl who loved Damien Valenti. I was a woman holding two decades of their darkest secrets, and my vendetta had just begun.