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The Alpha's Plump Luna

After being humiliated and cast out by her mate, Rhiannon seeks sanctuary within the formidable Crescent Moon pack. There, she encounters Kael, a battle-hardened Alpha who guards his heart against vulnerability. While an obsessive shadow from her past emerges to reclaim her, Rhiannon proves she is far from broken. Together, they must confront a rising tide of vengeance. As blood stains their path, they face a choice: succumb to fear or unite to protect their future.
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Chapter 6

: The Alpha Who Couldn't Stay Away

[KAEL]

The warriors arguing in my office were giving me a headache.

"—patrol rotation was changed without notice—"

"—your shift ended an hour before mine started—"

I cut through their bickering with one sentence. "Emrys will handle the schedule. Get out."

They left, still grumbling but smart enough not to push.

The office felt too quiet after they'd gone. Papers scattered across my desk—border reports, supply inventories, incident logs from the rogue breach we still hadn't solved. Work that should have commanded my full attention.

Instead, I kept glancing at the framed photo on the corner of my desk.

Lyra smiled back at me, frozen in time. Sun-gold hair and bright eyes that had made the whole world feel lighter. Three years gone, and sometimes the grief still hits like I'd lost her yesterday.

'Different,' Saen insisted, restless beneath my skin. 'This is different.'

'It shouldn't be anything,' I shot back.

A knock interrupted the argument with my wolf. My mother entered without waiting for permission, silver-streaked dark hair pulled back, eyes sharp with maternal concern.

"Kael." Isolde settled into the chair across from me with the kind of deliberate grace that meant she wasn't leaving until she got answers. "We need to talk about the girl."

"Rhiannon has a name."

"So, you've been paying attention." Her eyebrow arched. "The pack is asking questions. They want to know who she is and why you brought her here personally. Covered in blood. Unconscious."

I shuffled papers that didn't need shuffling. "She needed help."

"You're the Alpha of this territory. You have healers for that. You don't typically carry wounded strangers through the main hall yourself."

'Tell her,' Saen urged. 'Tell everyone. Make them understand she's ours.'

I couldn't. Saying it aloud meant making it real. Meant accepting that the Moon Goddess had given me something I'd sworn never to want again.

Meant letting Lyra go.

My chest tightened just thinking about it.

"She's under my protection," I said finally. "That's all anyone needs to know."

Isolde studied me with the kind of knowing look only mothers mastered. "And what about what you need to know?"

I met her gaze. Held it. Gave her nothing.

She sighed and stood. "Just remember—hiding from something doesn't make it less true."

The door closed behind her, leaving me alone with Lyra's photograph and a wolf who wouldn't stop pacing.

A scent drifted through the open window. Impossible because she was halfway across the territory, but Saen conjured it anyway—midnight rain and smoke, electric and haunting.

'She's hurting,' my wolf insisted. 'Find her.'

"She's healing. Mira cleared her yesterday."

'Not that kind of hurt.'

I gripped the edge of my desk, fighting the pull. Fighting the instinct that demanded I go to her, check on her, and make sure she was safe.

Lyra's face smiled at me from the photo. Patient. Understanding. The woman who'd trusted me to protect her and our unborn child.

The woman I'd failed.

The grief that had calcified into a vow sat heavy in my chest: never love like that again. Never give anyone that kind of power to destroy me.

Footsteps approached. Melissa leaned against the doorframe, blonde hair falling in waves, smile calculated to be inviting.

"You look tense." She moved closer, hips swaying. "I could help with that."

Saen snarled so violently I nearly shifted on the spot. The reaction shocked me—my wolf had never responded to Melissa with anything before. Not interest. Not rejection. Just... nothing.

Now he radiated hostility.

'Wrong,' Saen growled. 'She smells wrong. Send her away.'

"I'm working." My voice came out colder than I'd intended.

"You're always working." Melissa trailed a finger along the desk's edge. "When are you going to let yourself—"

"I'm not interested, Melissa. I've never been interested." I forced myself to soften the blow slightly. "Find someone who is."

Her expression flickered—hurt or anger, I couldn't tell—before smoothing back into that practiced smile. "If you change your mind—"

"I won't."

She left without another word.

Saen's fury didn't diminish. It crystallized into something clearer, more terrifying.

My wolf wasn't just avoiding Melissa. He was rejection-level hostile toward her because she wasn't Rhiannon.

The realization made my hands clench.

Emrys' voice cut through my mind-link, urgent and careful. 'She's training. Alone. And the comments are getting rough.'

I was out of my chair and moving before the link finished.

The training grounds spread out below the ridge—open arena, packed dirt, and weapons racks along the perimeter. Morning sun burned off the last of the fog, illuminating everything with harsh clarity.

And there—

Rhiannon stood in the center, weighted gauntlets straining her wrists, wooden staff gripped in both hands. Sweat slicked her temples. Her breathing came ragged but steady, each exhale visible in the cold air.

She moved through forms with raw determination, every strike precise despite obvious exhaustion. Her scent hit me from across the field—midnight rain turning sharp and electric, like a storm fighting to break free.

Every wolf in the arena watched her. Some amused. Some dismissive. A few openly mocking.

I noticed what they didn't.

The precision in her stance. The survivor's grit that kept her upright when her body begged to quit. The pain behind her hazel eyes that she channeled into focused fury.

'Help her,' Saen demanded. 'Stand beside her. Protect her.'

"She needs independence, not interference."

'She needs us.'

My feet carried me toward the field's edge anyway.

Emrys intercepted me with a subtle shake of his head. Through the mind-link: 'Be cool. She's doing this for herself.'

Then aloud, quiet enough only I could hear: "And you hovering isn't going to make the rumors stop."

My jaw clenched. "What rumors?"

"You really want to know?" At my expression, he continued. "Too big for a she-wolf. Omega trash. Some are saying she faked the rogue attack to get your attention."

Rage flooded hot and immediate. My hands balled into fists, nails biting into palms hard enough to draw blood.

"Who?" The word came out lethal.

"Does it matter?" Emrys met my eyes. "You haven't told the pack the truth. About the bond. About her status. So, they're filling in the blanks themselves."

The guilt hit like a physical blow.

If I'd just claimed her publicly—told them she was my mate—she wouldn't be enduring this cruelty. Wouldn't be fighting to prove herself worthy of basic respect.

I'd caused this. Not entirely, but enough.

Because I was afraid.

Because I couldn't let go of Lyra.

Because claiming Rhiannon felt like betrayal.

I forced myself to watch as she stumbled under the gauntlets' weight, caught herself, and pushed through. Her staff connected with the practice dummy hard enough to crack wood.

Something inside me gave way. Not desire exactly. Something deeper.

Respect. Understanding. Recognition of strength most people would never see.

Saen thrashed against my control. 'Tell them. Tell them all she's ours.'

I couldn't move. Couldn't speak. Could only stand there watching her fight battles she shouldn't have to face.

Movement at the arena's edge caught my attention.

Melissa appeared, leaning against a pillar with a thin, sweet smile that made my skin crawl. She wasn't watching Rhiannon with jealousy.

She was watching with victory.

"So that's who he's been protecting." Her voice carried just far enough for nearby wolves to hear.

Whispers erupted immediately. Eyes darted between me and Rhiannon. Speculation rippled through the crowd like wildfire.

I froze—caught between instinct screaming to claim her and the political nightmare Melissa had just ignited.

Rhiannon heard the murmurs.

She turned, staff lowering fractionally. Her eyes found mine across the distance.

The hurt in them gutted me.

Confusion. Pain. And worse—distrust flickering beneath the surface like she was wondering if I'd orchestrated this somehow. If my protection was just another form of humiliation.

Her hazel eyes shifted darker, walls slamming back into place.

I took one step forward.

Melissa's smile widened.

And Rhiannon turned away from me completely, raising her staff toward the nearest warrior with deadly calm.

"Train with me."