The Alpha's Cheating Luna

I felt Lyra dying inside me.

My wolf—my other half, my strength, my very essence—was fading with each passing moment since the mate bond had shattered. The pain in my neck had spread throughout my body, a burning agony that made even breathing a struggle.

"Elena, please respond," Lyra's voice echoed weakly in my mind, once strong and fierce, now barely a whisper. "I'm slipping away."

I stumbled against the wall of the corridor, my legs buckling beneath me. The guards holding me tightened their grip, but I could feel their disgust. No one wanted to touch the rejected Luna, the failed mate.

"It hurts," I whispered, more to Lyra than to them. "She's dying."

One of the guards—Damien, who had once bowed respectfully to me—snorted. "Your wolf can't die from a broken bond. Stop being dramatic."

But he was wrong. I could feel Lyra's presence dimming, her once-vibrant energy flickering like a candle in the wind. The mate bond had been more than just a connection to Marcus—it had been the foundation of my power as Luna Queen.

"Lyra, please," I begged internally as they dragged me forward. "Don't leave me."

Her response came as barely a flutter of consciousness. "I'm sorry, Elena. The rejection... it's killing me."

I tried to shift—to call forth my wolf and prove to these guards that something was terribly wrong—but nothing happened. Where once I could transform in an instant, now I felt only emptiness. My supernatural strength abandoned me, leaving me as weak as any human.

"Can't even shift anymore," the second guard laughed. "Pathetic."

They pulled me through the pack house, past the jeering crowds, until we reached the grand entrance. Marcus was waiting there, Diana clinging possessively to his arm. My sister wore a triumphant smile that cut deeper than any claw.

"Ah, there she is," Marcus announced as if greeting an unwelcome guest. "My former Luna."

I tried to stand tall despite the pain, despite Lyra's fading presence. "Marcus, please—"

"Silence," he growled, his Alpha command hitting me like a physical blow. Even rejected, I was no match for his power. "You've embarrassed me for the last time."

He gestured to some pack members who were carrying boxes and bags—my belongings from the Luna quarters.

"What are you doing?" I asked, watching as they dropped everything unceremoniously onto the ground.

Marcus's smile was cruel as he kicked one of the bags, sending it tumbling into a mud puddle. "Relocating you."

Diana giggled, pressing herself closer to him. "You can't keep living in the pack house, Elena. That would be... awkward."

Marcus pointed toward the stables at the edge of the property. "Your new home is there. With the livestock."

The guards released me, and I nearly collapsed onto the muddy ground. "The stables?"

"Failed Lunas belong with the animals," Marcus declared loudly enough for everyone to hear. "After all, you couldn't fulfill your most basic duty as a mate."

Laughter rippled through the gathered crowd. Diana's giggle rose above it all, high and mocking.

"Come on," one guard muttered, grabbing my arm and pulling me toward the stables. "Alpha King's orders."

As they led me away, I heard Diana's voice, sweet with false concern. "Don't worry about her things, Marcus. I'll make sure they're properly... disposed of."

I spent three days in that stable, sleeping in straw beside the horses, too weak to even clean myself properly. Lyra was barely a flicker now, her voice silent in my mind.

On the fourth day, a commotion outside drew my attention. Through the stable door, I saw a crowd gathering in the main courtyard. My heart froze when I recognized the figures at its center.

My parents.

Alpha Alaric and Luna Celeste stood tall despite their obvious distress. My father's face was ashen, my mother's eyes red-rimmed from crying.

"We've come for our daughter," my father announced, his voice carrying across the courtyard.

Marcus stepped forward, flanked by his Betas. "She is no longer your concern."

"She is our blood," my mother insisted. "We will take her home."

Home. The word sounded like salvation.

But then I saw something that made my blood run cold. My father was carrying a ceremonial silver dagger—the same one used in our pack's oldest rituals.

"Father, no!" I tried to shout, but my voice emerged as a weak croak.

Marcus's expression shifted to something almost respectful. "Alpha Alaric, I understand your shame. But this is unnecessary."

"Shame?" My father's voice broke. "Our daughter bears the stain of rejection. Our bloodline is cursed forever."

"Alaric," my mother whispered, taking his hand. Together, they raised the dagger.

"No!" I screamed, somehow finding the strength to stumble forward. "Mother! Father! Please!"

But it was too late. In one swift motion, they plunged the dagger into each other's hearts—the ancient ritual of honor death.

I collapsed to my knees as their bodies fell.

---

"This is what you've done," Marcus said coldly as he stood over me, holding a simple clay urn. "Your weakness has killed them."

I couldn't speak through my tears. My parents—gone forever because of me.

"Here," he said, thrusting the urn toward me. "Their ashes."

I reached for it with trembling hands, but before I could take it, Marcus deliberately tilted it sideways.

The ashes spilled onto the ground.

"No!" I lunged forward, trying desperately to gather the scattered remains with my bare hands.

Marcus stepped back, and I watched in horror as he kicked dirt over what I'd collected.

"Oops," Diana said with mock concern, clapping her hands together. "Guess failures don't deserve proper burials."

As they walked away, leaving me kneeling in the dirt beside what remained of my parents, something inside me changed. The pain of Lyra's fading merged with my grief and rage.

In the depths of my soul, something ancient began to stir.