Rejected Luna's Final Escape

The sharp ache in my abdomen was unrelenting as I knelt on the cold marble floor of the packhouse dining hall, gathering the scattered remnants of my dignity along with the clothes strewn across the room. My body screamed in protest, still reeling from the recent loss of yet another pup, my seventh. The hours I’d spent standing in the kitchen, preparing a meal fit for an Alpha and his favored Omega, had left me drained, both physically and emotionally. Yet Marcelo, my mate, my Alpha, seemed to care little for my suffering.

Virginia, perched at the head of the table like a queen, wrinkled her nose as she surveyed the spread of dishes I’d prepared. “Alpha,” she began, her voice dripping with faux sweetness, “my tastes have changed since the pup started growing. Alyssa must have made these dull dishes on purpose because she doesn’t like me or the baby. How am I supposed to eat this?”

Marcelo’s gaze snapped to me, his eyes dark with anger. “Luna,” he growled, his Alpha tone lashing like a whip, “did I not make it clear that Virginia’s needs come first? How dare you serve her something she can’t eat? Are you trying to starve her and my pup?”

I opened my mouth to explain, to remind him that a bland diet was healthier for a pregnant Omega, but Virginia’s eyes welled with crocodile tears as she looked up at him. “It’s okay, Alpha,” she said softly, her voice trembling. “I understand. Alyssa is still grieving her loss, and she wants me to feel that pain too.”

Marcelo’s fury erupted like a storm. “You lost your pup because you couldn’t carry it,” he snarled, his voice cutting through the room like a blade. “And now you’re taking it out on me? On Virginia? On my future pup?” He strode toward me, his towering frame casting a shadow over my kneeling form. Before I could react, he kicked the back of my knees, forcing me to collapse fully onto the unforgiving tiles. The impact sent a jolt of pain through my already battered body, and I bit my lip to keep from crying out.

Marcelo turned back to Virginia, his expression softening into something almost tender. “Come, Virginia,” he said, his voice gentle now. “I’ll take you out for your favorite steak. You deserve better than this.”

Virginia rose gracefully, her smirk barely concealed as she glanced back at me. “Alpha, you’re spoiling me too much,” she purred, her tone teasing. “What if I gain weight? Will you still love me then?”

“Always, Virginia,” Marcelo replied, his voice warm. “You’ll always be the most beautiful mom-to-be in my eyes.”

As they walked out of the dining hall, their laughter echoing behind them, a memory surfaced unbidden—a time when I, too, had been pregnant. It had been my fifth month, my body swollen and aching, my face flushed with the glow of life growing within me. It had also been my birthday, and despite my exhaustion, I’d spent hours preparing a meal for Marcelo, hoping to celebrate with him. But when he’d walked in and seen me, his expression had twisted in disgust.

“Alyssa,” he’d said, his voice cold, “you look like a pig with this pregnancy. It’s repulsive.” He’d slammed the door behind him, leaving me alone with my shattered hopes.

Now, watching him dote on Virginia, I realized something that cut deeper than any insult or humiliation: Marcelo knew how to love. He simply had never loved me.