Rejected Luna, Claimed by the King

Adella POV The private suite at the back of the Marshall Jewels flagship store was quieter than a tomb and twice as cold. The walls were frosted glass, thick enough to stop a bullet, isolating us from the hum of the city outside. "Mr. Marshall insisted on the Luna Collection for you, Miss Everett," the store manager said, his voice dripping with professional reverence. He wore white gloves as he placed a black velvet tray on the low glass table between us. Azalea, who had been sipping a sparkling water, nearly choked. She coughed, her eyes bulging as she stared at the tray. "The what collection?" she sputtered, looking from the manager to me. "Adella, why is my father's staff showing you the royal engagement line?" My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. Resting on the velvet was a ring that stole the breath from my lungs—a massive, iridescent moonstone surrounded by a halo of black diamonds. It was ancient, heavy, and screamed of a power I had no business wielding. "There... there must be a mistake," I lied, my voice trembling. I shot a desperate look at Azalea. "We were supposed to be looking for a birthday gift for him. A watch. He must have... the manager must have misunderstood the appointment." It was a flimsy lie. The manager's eyebrows twitched, but he was trained well enough not to correct the Alpha King's guest. Azalea narrowed her eyes, her gaze flicking between the ring and the bruising mark on my neck. "A misunderstanding? That ring is worth more than the entire Hyde Pack territory. Who exactly is this 'sugar daddy' of yours, Adella?" Before I could invent another lie, the heavy glass door to the suite crashed open. The scent hit me first—sour milk and burning rubber. It was the smell of an Alpha's unchecked rage. Braydon stood in the doorway, his chest heaving. He looked manic, his hair disheveled, his eyes wild with a mix of fury and humiliation. "I knew it," he snarled, stepping into the room. The air pressure dropped instantly as he released his aura, a suffocating wave of dominance that was meant to crush me. "You think you can just walk away? You think you can parade around in my rival's store, trying on crowns you don't deserve?" "Braydon, get out," I whispered, shrinking back into the leather sofa. "No!" He lunged forward, ignoring Azalea, who had jumped to her feet. He grabbed my wrist, his fingers digging into my skin with bruising force. "You are coming home. You are a wolfless charity case, Adella. You don't belong in a place like this. You belong to me." "Let her go!" Azalea shouted, grabbing his arm. "You are in Blackwood territory, Hyde. Back off!" Braydon shoved her. It was a careless, violent motion that sent the Alpha King's daughter stumbling back against the display case. "Stay out of this, princess," Braydon spat. "This is pack business. She is my property." The pain in my wrist was blinding, but seeing Azalea stumble sparked something dark in my chest. For years, I had let him define me. Wolfless. Weak. Property. But the ring on the table—and the platinum band already on my finger—told a different story. I wasn't just Adella the wolfless anymore. I was a woman who had sold her soul to a monster far scarier than Braydon Hyde. I stopped pulling away. I went still. "I am not your property," I said, my voice surprisingly steady. Braydon laughed, a cruel, barking sound. "You have nothing without me. No wolf. No family. No money." I looked him dead in the eye. "I have a husband." The words hung in the air, sharper than any silver blade. Braydon froze. His grip on my wrist loosened just a fraction, shock replacing the anger on his face. In our world, marriage wasn't just a piece of paper; it was a binding of souls, a transfer of protection. "What?" he breathed. "I'm married, Braydon," I repeated, yanking my hand free. I stood up, smoothing my dress, channeling every ounce of false confidence I could muster. "Which means if you touch me again, you aren't just abusing an ex-girlfriend. You are declaring war on another Alpha." Braydon's face turned a mottled shade of red. The humiliation was eating him alive. He took a step toward me, his hand raising as if to strike. "You lying little bitch, I'll—" He never finished the sentence. Two shadows detached themselves from the corners of the room. I hadn't even noticed the security guards until they were there—massive, silent men in black suits with the Blackwood crest pinned to their lapels. They didn't look like mall cops; they moved like executioners. "Mr. Hyde," the manager said, his voice ice-cold. He was standing by the door, holding a phone. "You are trespassing. You have five seconds to leave before I notify the Alpha King that you assaulted his guests." Braydon looked at the guards, then at me. He realized he was outgunned. The power dynamic had shifted so violently it left him reeling. He lowered his hand, but the look he gave me was pure venom. "You think a ring saves you?" he hissed, backing toward the door. "I don't care who he is. I will find him. I will challenge him for you, and I will tear his throat out. And when he's dead, you'll crawl back to my pack on your knees." He turned and stormed out, leaving a trail of toxic pheromones in his wake. I sank back onto the sofa, my legs turning to jelly. He was going to challenge my husband. Braydon Hyde was going to challenge Dallas Marshall. A hysterical laugh bubbled in my throat. He had just threatened to kill the Lycan King. He didn't just sign his own death warrant; he had practically gift-wrapped it.