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 6
Elena's POV:
Later that day, Brandon returned and motioned for me to follow him outside. The moment we entered the hallway, he slowed down and spoke carefully, like he was weighing his words first. "This situation wasn't caused by you," he said while leading me through the deserted hallway.
His voice stayed calm, but I couldn't stop myself from wondering if he'd sensed the thoughts running through my head. Someone like Brandon probably could. As the Beta who stood beside the strongest Alpha in the region, his instincts were far sharper than ordinary wolves.
"Maybe that's how you see it," I answered softly. The lie tasted bitter in my mouth.
No matter how distant Davis acted toward me, this place still felt safer than Crimson Howl ever did. Back there, I had spent years surviving cruelty disguised as pack hierarchy. Compared to that nightmare, even Davis' cold silence felt merciful.
The corridor stretched endlessly before us while Brandon's footsteps rang against the polished floor. I stayed a few steps behind him and kept my gaze lowered, forcing myself not to stare out the towering windows surrounding us. Beyond the glass stood lands so beautiful they barely seemed real.
Yet beneath that beauty lingered something sharp and unwelcoming, much like the Alpha who ruled over it.
The thought of Caleb surfaced again without warning. Pain twisted through my chest so suddenly that I had to steady my breathing before the tears could rise.
Rejecting me hadn't been enough for him. Caleb discarded me like I meant nothing, fully aware that an omega without her mate bond rarely survived long afterward. He knew exactly what kind of fate waited for me, and he still chose to walk away without hesitation. Then he made things worse by handing me over like an object in a negotiation, using my existence to secure ties with Alpha Davis and his pack.
The morning I was sent away, Caleb came to see me one last time.
Before I could pull away, Caleb stepped closer until almost no space remained between us. His fingers lifted my chin with a touch soft enough to unsettle me, though the cruelty beneath it still crawled under my skin.
Part of me still wanted to melt into his touch, but the memories tied to him stopped me cold. Everything Caleb had done came crashing back at once, leaving fear wrapped tightly around my body.
"Remember why you're being sent there, Elena. Your only responsibility is to obey him and stay useful. If you try to run away, I'll handle you myself," he said quietly. His voice turned colder near the end.
Then he smiled. Before I could move away, his lips brushed against my cheek in a false show of affection that made my skin crawl.
Disgust rose inside me immediately, and I shoved him back without hesitation. Caleb only chuckled softly at my reaction before walking out of the room like none of it mattered.
"This will be your room," Brandon said, pulling me out of the memory.
We had already reached the end of the hallway. After stopping in front of a closed door, he pushed it open and motioned for me to step inside.
Carefully, I looked around the room.
I expected another miserable space meant for someone unwanted, but the sight before me caught me off guard. Everything looked neat and surprisingly comfortable.
A bed covered with soft blankets sat near the center, while a wooden table rested beside the window. Near the wall stood a small wardrobe. Warm sunlight spilled across the room and made the entire place feel peaceful.
"You may walk around the territory if you want," Brandon explained calmly. "Just stay away from the north wing. That's Alpha Davis' private area, and he doesn't tolerate interruptions. Understood?"
Not wanting to seem disrespectful, I nodded right away. "Yes. I understand. Thank you."
For a brief moment, Brandon kept his eyes on me like he couldn't quite figure me out. In the end, he simply walked away without saying anything else. A quiet click followed after the door shut behind him.
The second I was alone, a relieved breath escaped my lungs.
This room didn't feel threatening.
For once, I had somewhere quiet to stay, even if it wasn't permanent.
I welcomed the silence immediately. Davis wasn't here with his cold stares. Hannah wasn't around to throw cutting remarks at me. Natalie couldn't sneer at me from across the room, and Caleb wasn't here to remind me how easily he discarded me.
No one could reach me here.
After placing my small bag inside the wardrobe, another door caught my attention nearby. Curiosity pushed me toward it, and when I stepped inside, I realized it was a bathroom.
Light reflected against the smooth bathtub while the silver faucet gleamed brightly beneath it. Not a single thing looked dirty or neglected.
The sight alone made me want to cry.
Without wasting another second, I filled the tub with warm water and slowly slipped inside. The heat wrapped around my body instantly, easing the soreness buried deep in my muscles.
I couldn't remember the last time I felt this comfortable.
Closing my eyes, I let myself sink deeper into the warmth while the exhaustion from the past few days slowly melted away.
By the time I stepped out with a towel wrapped around me, some of the heaviness inside my chest felt easier to carry.
The moment I stepped back into the bedroom, a rich scent drifted
through the air and stopped me in place—Food.
A tray sat neatly on the table nearby, filled with warm bread, steaming soup, fresh fruit, and chocolate dessert. My stomach growled painfully at the sight, reminding me how long it had been since I last ate properly.
Slowly, I moved closer. Part of me still couldn't believe any of it was meant for me. Carefully, I picked up a piece of bread and took a small bite.
The softness nearly broke me. Warmth melted across my tongue, and for a second, my legs almost gave out beneath me.
This wasn't another cruel trick.
Someone had actually prepared a real meal for me.
Before I even realized it, I had finished everything on the tray. The soup tasted thick and comforting, far richer than anything I remembered eating before. Every piece of fruit carried a sweetness that lingered on my tongue, and the chocolate dessert felt so indulgent that it almost embarrassed me to enjoy it so much.
But the moment I reached for the last piece of bread, my stomach twisted violently. Nausea hit me without warning.
I barely made it to the bathroom before everything came back up.
Breathing hard, I stayed on the cold tiled floor afterward, too weak to stand right away. Shame settled heavily inside me while I realized my body simply wasn't used to eating that much after being deprived for so long.
After rinsing my mouth, I remained there quietly for another moment.
Then I heard something.
A faint creak drifted from the bedroom door.
My chest tightened immediately.
Carefully, I stepped closer and noticed the door hadn't fully closed. Through the narrow opening, I caught sight of a shadow disappearing down the hallway. Heavy footsteps echoed in the distance before fading away completely.
Fear wrapped around me at once.
Without hesitation, I shut the door firmly and locked it. My hands trembled against the latch even after it clicked into place.
By the time I returned to the bed, exhaustion had completely taken over.
The mattress welcomed me the second I collapsed onto it, and sleep dragged me under almost instantly.
Somewhere within that darkness, a massive black wolf appeared beside me.
Its fur looked dark as midnight, while golden eyes watched me quietly. The steady sound of its breathing filled me with an unexpected sense of safety.
As I rested against its thick coat, warmth slowly wrapped around my body like protection.
I had no idea how long I slept before a sudden knock dragged me out of the dream.
Startled, I shot upright and rushed toward the door without thinking. The moment I pulled it open, my entire body stiffened.
Alpha Davis stood outside.
His gaze immediately fell to the towel wrapped around me, and heat rushed straight into my face. Realizing how little the fabric actually concealed, I clutched it tighter against my chest and lowered my eyes in embarrassment.
"Alpha Davis..." I called out awkwardly, struggling to steady my voice. After everything he told me earlier, he was the last person I expected to see standing outside my room. "Did... did you need something from me?"
For a brief second, his expression hardened. Then he finally spoke. "The ceremony has been delayed for another week."
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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.