Rejected On Blood Moon, I Found My True Alpha

"She has no wolf." The scarred elder, Torin, paced around me in a tight circle.

"Her aura is completely dead," Torin continued, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings of the great hall. "Iron Ridge didn't banish a threat. They tossed out their garbage."

Kael kicked the back of my knee. I hit the marble floor hard, my bones rattling against the stone.

"A useless hostage," Kael sneered. "Kill her, Alpha. Slit her throat and send her head back to Kane in a wooden box."

Ezra lounged on his obsidian throne. He didn't look angry. He looked entirely bored.

"Is this true, Serena?" Ezra asked. "Are you completely powerless?"

"My magic is bound," I answered.

"Bound or broken, the result is exactly the same," Torin argued, pointing a crooked finger at my face. "She holds zero value. Kane won't trade a single copper coin for her return."

"Execution is the only logical step," another council member agreed from the shadows. "Why feed a mouth that offers no advantage?"

I pressed my bleeding palms against the cold stone. I had to survive. If I died here, Kane and Lyla won. My parents' legacy would end in a puddle of blood on a foreign floor.

"Spare me," I said.

The great hall went dead silent.

"What did you say?" Ezra leaned forward, resting his chin on his fist.

"I beg you to spare my life," I repeated. I forced the words through my teeth. I lowered my head until my forehead touched the icy floor, abandoning every ounce of pride I had left.

"You beg?" Ezra mocked. "The former future Luna of Iron Ridge, groveling like a stray mutt?"

"I am no Luna," I said. "I am nothing. I will never return to Iron Ridge. Just let me live."

"Why should I?" Ezra asked. "You consume my resources. You take up space."

"I will work. I will scrub your floors. I will clean your stables. I will do the labor your people refuse to do."

Kael laughed harshly. "She can barely stand up straight."

"I will earn my keep," I insisted, staring directly at Ezra's heavy boots.

Ezra stood. He walked down the steps, stopping inches from my face.

"You have no pride left," Ezra noted.

"Pride doesn't keep a heart beating," I replied.

"Fine," Ezra declared, turning his back on me. "Strip her of those rags. Give her the gray tunic. She belongs to the scullery now. Make sure she suffers for every scrap of bread she eats."

***

Two weeks passed. My hands blistered, cracked, and bled.

I knelt in the central courtyard, scrubbing the mud from the cobblestones. The midday sun beat down on my aching back.

"Hey, useless!" A wet rag slapped against the back of my head.

I turned around. A burly scullery maid named Greta stood over me, her hands planted on her wide hips.

"You missed a spot," Greta sneered.

"I scrubbed that section twice," I said, my voice hoarse from thirst.

"Are you talking back to me?" Greta kicked my scrub brush across the yard. "Go fetch it, stray. Before I tell Kael you're slacking."

I crawled across the rough stones to retrieve the brush. My knees scraped against the gravel, tearing open fresh wounds.

The heavy iron gates suddenly swung open.

"Make way for the Alpha!" a guard shouted.

I kept my head down and scrubbed harder. The coarse bristles tore at my raw skin.

Ezra strode into the courtyard. Lyla clung tightly to his arm. She wore a pristine white dress, completely untouched by the dusty roads of the outer territory.

"Careful on the stones, Lyla," Ezra instructed, wrapping a protective arm around her waist.

"You spoil me, Ezra," she giggled, leaning her head against his chest.

"You are the only one who deserves it," he replied. His voice held a warmth I had never heard before.

Shadow Veil wolves gathered around them quickly. They bowed their heads in deep respect.

Ezra raised his free hand. "Hear me. Lyla of Iron Ridge is my chosen. She is my guiding light. Anyone who disrespects her answers directly to my blade."

Murmurs of approval rippled through the pack.

"Thank you, Ezra," Lyla whispered. "You make me feel so safe."

I plunged my brush into the bucket of soapy water. The sharp splash drew Lyla's attention.

She stopped walking. Her spotless white shoes paused inches from my bruised hands.

"Oh, Serena," Lyla sighed. "Look at what you have become."

"Move," I muttered, refusing to look up.

"You shouldn't speak to me like that," Lyla said, her tone thick with fake sympathy. "I could ask Ezra to give you better quarters. A softer bed, perhaps?"

"I don't need your pity," I told her.

Ezra stepped between us. He kicked my bucket hard. Filthy water splashed across my face and soaked my thin gray tunic.

"Do not speak to her," Ezra snapped. "You are dirt beneath her feet, servant."

I wiped the dirty water from my eyes. I didn't flinch. I didn't cry. The last fragment of hope in my chest froze solid. Let them play their twisted game. I just needed to survive long enough to find a way out.

"Get back to work," Ezra commanded. He guided Lyla away, his hand resting gently on the small of her back.

I picked up the brush. I scrubbed the stones.

***

Midnight. The servant's quarters in the cellar.

I collapsed onto a thin pile of straw. My ribs throbbed relentlessly. The salt Kael rubbed into my wounds days ago still festered, sending sharp spikes of agony through my nervous system.

I closed my eyes, shivering in the damp cold.

A sudden breeze swept through the windowless room.

A shadow detached from the far corner.

I scrambled backward, pressing my spine against the rough stone wall. "Who is there?"

A tall, broad figure stepped into the sliver of moonlight filtering through the floorboards above. He wore a dark cloak. His face remained hidden beneath a heavy hood, but I recognized the glowing silver eyes immediately.

The prisoner from the dungeon.

He knelt beside my straw bed. He didn't speak.

"Did Ezra send you to finish me off?" I asked.

He shook his head. He reached out, holding his large, calloused hand inches above my torn ribs.

Silver mist flowed from his palm. It wrapped around my torso. The searing pain vanished instantly. The infected flesh knit together, leaving behind smooth, unblemished skin. The magic seeped into my pores, feeling like warm sunlight piercing through a frozen lake.

I stared at him in pure shock. "You have magic."

He lowered his hand.

"Why are you helping me?" I whispered.

He stood up, towering over me in the cramped space.

"Survive, Serena," a deep, rough voice echoed directly into my mind.

He turned toward the wooden door.

"Wait," I called out, pushing myself up. "Give me a name."

He paused at the threshold. The shadows seemed to bend and warp around his massive frame.

"Lucian," he answered aloud.

He vanished into the dark corridor.

I looked down at the floor. A wooden bowl of fresh water and a wrapped loaf of warm bread sat near my feet.

I grabbed the bread, tearing off a piece.

Heavy boots stomped down the hallway.

The door slammed open, smashing against the stone wall.

Kael stood in the doorway, a cruel smile twisting his face. He held a rusted iron collar in his hands.

"Get up, rogue," Kael ordered. "The Alpha has a new job for you."