Rejected Luna: Fated To A Cursed Alpha
Elena spent her entire life carrying the weight of a name nobody cared to remember. As an orphaned Omega, she lived beneath the boots of her own pack, forced to endure mockery, orders, and endless humiliation while everyone around her treated her like she didn't belong among them.
Through every miserable year, she held on to one fragile belief. Once she turned eighteen, the Moon Goddess would finally lead her to her destined mate, and that bond would become her way out of the cruel life she had suffered through for so long.
Instead, fate tore her apart in the worst possible way.
The man tied to her soul turned out to be Alpha Caleb, the cold and merciless ruler of her pack. Unfortunately for Elena, his heart already belonged to Natalie, the vicious woman who strutted around the territory as though the Luna title already belonged to her.
Rather than accepting the sacred bond between them, Caleb cast Elena aside without hesitation. In front of the entire pack, he continued to shower Natalie with affection while treating Elena like a stain he wanted erased. Within a single moment, every dream Elena had treasured collapsed, leaving her trapped in a humiliation that followed her everywhere she went.
When it seemed like there was nothing left for her to lose, another Alpha entered her life.
Davis came from beyond the pack borders, carrying rumors dark enough to make even seasoned wolves uneasy. People whispered about the curse tied to his bloodline, and many feared the destruction that seemed to follow his family wherever they went. Yet beneath the mystery and danger surrounding him, Davis offered Elena something nobody else ever had.
While Caleb chose status, power, and appearances, Davis made her feel seen. For the first time in her life, Elena began to wonder if destiny had given her another path. Maybe he was the chance she needed to finally claim the love, freedom, and strength that had always been denied to her.
Will Elena continue chasing a mate who never wanted her? Or will she walk away from the pain of rejection and embrace the man who could help her rebuild the broken pieces of her life?
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Chapter 5
The vehicle jolted along the uneven road, the engine's vibration running through the floor beneath me. No one had bothered to see me off. No farewell, no acknowledgment. They placed me in the car without hesitation, like something they were eager to discard.
I glanced back through the rear window, and a tight feeling settled in my chest as it sank in that I wouldn't be coming back. Even if I did, there wouldn't be anyone waiting for me. Tears threatened to fall, but I forced them away. I had already given enough of them to people who never cared.
Hours passed before the surroundings began to shift. The territory of the Shadowfang pack stretched out ahead, wide and seemingly endless.
When their grounds finally appeared, my heartbeat picked up. Dark stone buildings stood tall, surrounded by strong fences that marked their domain. Everything about the place spoke of control and power. It felt nothing like where I came from.
The scale here was overwhelming, the structure rigid. The car kept moving for what felt like forever, yet we still hadn't reached the Alpha's residence.
Beside me, Davis remained silent. His attention stayed fixed outside, his expression unreadable. He hadn't spoken since we left Crimson Howl. The quiet around him pressed down on me, making it hard to breathe. I pulled myself closer to the side, careful not to make a sound. The small bag in my hands held everything I owned, and I clung to it as if it could keep me steady.
The car finally stopped. Davis stepped out first, his movement sudden enough to make me flinch. I stayed where I was until Brandon, his Beta, opened the door and gave a brief nod.
"Move," he instructed, his eyes lingering on me as if weighing something.
I stepped inside the main building, and the atmosphere hit me immediately. The ceilings rose high above, the floors gleamed, and the air felt cold in a way that settled deep. Davis walked ahead without slowing, leading me into a large room centered around a grand fireplace.
He came to a stop near it and spoke without looking back. "Leave us, Brandon. I need to talk to her."
Without saying anything, the Beta gave a small bow and stepped out, leaving me alone with him. A chill ran through me.
"Sit," Davis said, his voice flat as his eyes finally settled on me.
I moved toward a leather chair and lowered myself onto the edge, my fingers tightening together in my lap. The quiet dragged on, pressing down until he turned fully in my direction, his face giving nothing away.
"I never wanted this," he said, his tone rough and steady. "Whatever Caleb is planning, I don't care. Just understand this. I have no intention of having a Luna. And I don't want you."
The words struck hard, but I stayed silent.
He folded his arms and went on. "The Elders want an heir. That's the only reason this is happening. Here's how it works. We'll marry for show, and I'll place my mark on you. To everyone else, we'll act like an Alpha and his Luna. But when it's just us, you keep your distance."
A quiet response left me. "I understand."
His gaze sharpened. "That's all you have to say?"
I gave a slight nod. "Yes." There was nothing else to add.
Something in my answer seemed to irritate him, but he continued anyway.
"You won't be involved in anything related to the pack. You'll stay in the west wing, away from my quarters. You won't sit with me or share my table. And most importantly, you won't expect anything from me. Do you get it?"
My throat felt tight, but I gave a small nod. "I understand."
His eyes stayed on me, a hint of surprise showing. "You're fine with all of that?"
I lifted my head, confused by the question. "Yes... isn't that what you want?" I replied quietly. At least here, I wouldn't be punished over something small like ruining breakfast.
His brow lifted slightly. "Ruining breakfast?"
Warmth crept up my face. I hadn't meant to say that aloud. "Yes," I admitted, lowering my gaze. "Or... for something like not fixing a pillow the right way."
His jaw tightened, and for a brief second, something unreadable crossed his eyes before it disappeared.
"This isn't something to take lightly," he said, his tone firm.
"I know," I answered right away. "I mean it. Your conditions are acceptable. Following rules is simpler than dealing with people."
He studied me closely, his expression hard to read. "Do you even realize what this arrangement means?"
I sat up a little straighter. "Yes. You said the ceremony is tomorrow. I'll stay out of your way unless... unless you need an heir." My face heated again, and I looked down as soon as the words left me.
A frustrated breath left him as he pressed his fingers against his brow. "Fine. We'll leave it at that. Brandon will take you to your room. Tomorrow, someone will get you ready."
I paused before speaking again, my voice soft. "Alpha Davis... thank you."
His body tensed, surprise showing. "Thank you?"
I gave a small nod. "Yes... but I need to ask something. If I feel hungry, can I go to the kitchen myself, or do I wait for someone to bring food?"
His eyes widened slightly. "That's what's on your mind right now?"
Embarrassment crept in, and I looked down. "You didn't say anything about food. I don't want to break a rule without knowing." Back in my old pack, meals weren't guaranteed. Sometimes I only got two in a day. Maybe things were different here.
He stared at me as if he couldn't believe it. "You're actually serious?"
"Yes," I said, meeting his gaze briefly. "You're strict about rules, so I thought it was better to ask."
For a moment, he looked caught between reacting harshly or letting it go. In the end, he spoke. "No, you don't have to wait. Eat whenever you want. Just don't get in my way."
Relief settled in me. "That makes things easier. It's not like I could miss you anyway," I said, a faint smile forming.
He went still. "What does that mean?"
I pressed my lips together, realizing I had gone too far. "You're like... something you can't ignore. Strong. Intense."
His eyes narrowed slightly. "Is that supposed to be praise?"
Heat rushed to my face. "Yes. It is. It means you stand out." I wished I could take it back.
He let out a short breath, irritation clear. "You're impossible," he said, his hands tightening before he let them fall. "Forget it. Just remember what I told you. Don't expect anything beyond that."
I nodded right away. "I won't."
Without another word, he turned and walked out.
I stayed where I was, watching the door after he left, my heart still racing. He was harsh, and being near him felt overwhelming, but he hadn't treated me the way I was used to. That alone set this place apart.
When the door shut, I finally let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. My face still felt warm. I had gotten through this first meeting, but it was clear things wouldn't be simple here.
Right on cue, my stomach made a low sound.
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8.6
I was the youngest Paladin in history, the absolute pride of the Azure Blade.
But after a disastrous mission in the snow, I was falsely accused of slaughtering my own squad.
Grand Master Bernardo Rowe didn't just exile me; he surgically severed my connection to the magic Aether, turning me into a crippled mortal.
Desperate to survive, I tried to climb the Holy Stairs to reclaim my legendary sword, "Rebellion."
Instead of answering my call, my own blade shrieked in absolute rejection and blasted me down the thousand stone steps.
My bones snapped like dry twigs, and I was left in a pool of my own blood.
The pilgrims laughed at me. The guards declared me a lost cause and left me to rot in the dirt.
I should have died there, betrayed by the Order and the holy magic I once served.
But a silent, massive laborer named Cato Sims dragged my mangled body into the shadows.
He healed my shattered skeleton in mere days with impossible skill, yet he allowed lowly servants to spit on him and beat him just to keep my presence hidden.
I didn't understand why my holy sword had abandoned me, and I understood even less why this stranger was protecting a condemned criminal.
When I finally snapped and demanded to know his price for saving my life, he didn't ask for money or my body.
"The mountain does not forget its debts. I am reclaiming what was taken from it."
Staring into his unyielding eyes, I realized my exile wasn't the end, but the beginning of a terrifying truth.
7.6
I woke up to the suffocating smell of copper and sulfur, my fingers wrapped around a blood-soaked leather whip.
Hanging from an obsidian cross in front of me was a boy with silver hair and dead, golden eyes.
His pale chest was torn open to the bone.
I recognized those eyes immediately. I had spent three years describing them on my laptop.
He was Kamari Monroe, the tragic, overpowered protagonist of my own web novel.
And I wasn't just a bystander. I was Benedict Guerrero, the sadistic academy headmaster. The ultimate villain.
A reel of images flashed in my mind: my original ending. Kamari, fully awakened, skinning me alive and burning my soul in a furnace for forty-nine days.
My loyal attack dog, Gideon, stepped forward with a basin of glowing green liquid.
"Headmaster, let me wake him up with this bone-rot acid so you can resume."
If that acid hit Kamari, his hatred would become permanent. My gruesome death would be sealed.
But if I broke character and apologized, the magical world would sense the shift, and Kamari would just think it was a sicker, more twisted trap.
How was I supposed to survive a death sentence I wrote myself?
I couldn't show weakness. I had to play the monster to survive.
Suppressing my terror, I smashed the acid basin, healed his ruined flesh with agonizing dark magic, and lied straight to his face.
"Someone had to be the monster to push you into the fire."
This time, I will rewrite my own fate.
7.9
Estrella Ward gave five years of her life to her husband, draining her trust fund to save him from bankruptcy and raising his son as her own.
But one night, she woke up in a freezing hotel room, drugged, with a stranger's bite marks on her skin.
Her husband burst through the door with cameras, his vicious family, and her ten-year-old stepson, publicly framing her as a cheating whore.
The horrifying truth soon surfaced: her husband had drugged her himself, selling her body to his Wall Street boss to secure a senior partnership.
Estrella fought back with hidden security footage, blackmailing him into submission after discovering she was pregnant with his boss's child.
But fate dealt a cruel blow. She was diagnosed with aggressive, terminal breast cancer.
She refused to abort the baby to keep her leverage, but the cancer spread too fast.
She died alone in a cold hospital room, her vengeance unfinished, while her husband and his cruel family celebrated.
They thought they had successfully buried her and her secrets forever, escaping unpunished for destroying her life.
But when she gasped for air and opened her eyes again, she wasn't in a cold grave.
She was in a sterile hospital bed, looking at the perfectly manicured hands of Brooklyn Thompson—the notorious, empty-headed socialite everyone despised.
Estrella's soul had survived the abyss.
"You're going to pay for every drop of blood."
She clenched her new fists, the fire of her vengeance burning brighter than ever.
7.4
Bridget, a ruthless twenty-first-century Wall Street analyst, woke up violently coughing up murky lake water in a decaying 1978 slum.
She quickly realized she was trapped in the body of a naive, marginalized teenager who had just committed suicide over a boy's cruel rejection.
The original girl had been mercilessly bullied by a fake rich kid named Kurtis and his cruel followers. They had publicly read her desperate love letters out loud, mocking her as a toad trying to eat swan meat, and simply watched as she threw herself into the freezing water. Now, her impoverished mother was left weeping by the bed, facing catastrophic debt and total social ruin in their small town. Everyone expected the surviving girl to wake up begging and crying for the boy who humiliated her.
Instead, a cold, calculating fury took over Bridget's analytical mind.
"I already died in that lake. That stupid girl is never coming back."
How could anyone throw their life away for a pathetic, vain clown wearing a mass-produced fifty-dollar watch? To Bridget, those uncollected love letters weren't symbols of teenage heartbreak. They were toxic assets. They were reputation landmines left out in the open that threatened her new family's survival.
Locking away the dead girl's weak emotions, Bridget forced her freezing, exhausted body out of the clinic bed. She set a hard three-month deadline to drag this family out of tier-one poverty. But first, she was marching straight to the volunteer camp to liquidate those liabilities and completely destroy the people who drove this body to death.
9.7
Gemma expected the tearing agony of the bullet wound that had just ended her life.
Instead, her trembling fingers met the cool, smooth friction of heavy silk.
She stared into the mirror. Her face was flawless, completely devoid of the jagged scar that had marred her cheek for the last five years.
It was exactly ten years ago. The day of her engagement party to the ruthless billionaire, Brion Hubbard.
In her past life, her "best friend" Katelyn convinced her to run away with a scheming scumbag.
Katelyn claimed Brion was a heartless tyrant who would ruin her. Gemma had foolishly believed those fake tears.
That choice led to her family's bankruptcy, her brutal disfigurement, and ultimately, a fatal bomb explosion.
The only person who tried to save her was Brion, his blood-soaked body shielding hers from the blast.
She even realized too late that the strawberry cream cakes she always made for him were full of dairy.
He wasn't leaving to cheat on her. He was locking himself in a medical bay, fighting fatal allergic shock, just to accept a tiny scrap of her affection.
Gemma had been so incredibly blind. Why did she trust the venomous snakes who destroyed her, while hating the man who died for her?
Hearing Katelyn frantically knocking on the dressing room door, urging her to run away again, a towering hatred surged through Gemma's veins.
This time, she wasn't going to run.
She was going to expose the traitors, take back her family's wealth, and claim the tyrant for herself.
7.3
Ciel Miller opened her eyes to the blinding lights of a Manhattan ballroom, realizing she had been reborn on the exact night her life was ruined.
On the stage, the billionaire patriarch of the Chavez family was proudly announcing her engagement to his arrogant grandson, Harry.
In her past life, Ciel had blindly accepted his outstretched hand. That single step plunged her into a suffocating marriage filled with public humiliation and psychological torture, slowly draining her life away until she died. Harry had treated her like a pathetic stray dog, flaunting his absolute ownership while systematically destroying her.
Now, as the polite applause echoed, Harry extended his hand with a sickening smirk, waiting for her to lower her head and submit.
Instead, Ciel stood perfectly rigid and publicly rejected him in front of the entire New York elite.
Harry's face drained of color, while his family quickly mocked her.
"This is a cheap, embarrassing trick to get his attention," his sister sneered.
Harry's arrogant smirk crawled back. He fully believed she was just throwing a childish tantrum to make him jealous, convinced she was absolutely nothing without his wealth and status.
But Ciel looked at the man who had killed her in her past life with freezing disgust.
Then, she turned to the powerful patriarch and dropped a bombshell that left the entire ballroom gasping for air.
"If the family insists on taking care of me, I will marry into the Chavez family."
"But I want to marry the comatose war hero. I want to marry General Deacon Chavez."
She would rather spend the rest of her life with a "vegetable" than wake up next to a monster.