The Luna He Broke: A Second Chance at Life

Sarah POV:

"Are you sure you're up for this?" Marcus asked, checking his reflection in the rearview mirror of the SUV.

"I need to be useful," I said softly, smoothing the skirt of my dress. It hung loosely on my frame; I had lost ten pounds in three days. "If I'm going to be... just a wife, I should focus on charity."

We were parked outside the pack orphanage. It was a grim brick building on the edge of the territory, usually underfunded. But today, Marcus was strangely eager to visit.

He reached into the back seat and pulled out a box. It was a limited edition mecha-robot, the kind that cost more than an Omega's yearly salary.

"A donation?" I asked innocently.

"Just something to brighten a kid's day," he said dismissively.

We walked inside. The scent of bleach and boiled cabbage hit me—or rather, the ghost of the scent. My human-like nose was pathetic compared to what I was used to.

The matron hurried over, bowing low to Marcus. "Alpha! We weren't expecting you."

"Just a casual visit," Marcus said, his eyes scanning the room.

Then, a blur of motion shot across the linoleum floor.

"Daddy!"

A small boy, about three years old, slammed into Marcus's legs.

The room went silent. The matron looked terrified.

Marcus froze for a second, then laughed nervously, peeling the child off his leg. "Well, aren't you a friendly one."

I looked at the boy. He was the spitting image of the photos in the safe. Dark hair, dark eyes, the same arrogant tilt of the chin.

Even without my wolf senses, the biological connection was screaming. In the werewolf world, a pup's scent is a mix of their mother and father. It is an undeniable signature.

"What's your name?" I asked, crouching down.

The boy sneered at me. "Oliver. And who are you? You look burnt."

"Oliver!" A woman's voice cut through the air.

Rachel stepped out from the back office. She wasn't wearing the gray uniform of the orphanage staff. She was wearing a silk blouse and tight jeans, dripping in gold jewelry.

"I'm so sorry, Alpha," Rachel cooed, walking over and placing a possessive hand on the boy's shoulder. "He's just spirited. He loves strong wolves." She glanced at me with veiled contempt. "He doesn't like... weakness."

"He's charming," I said, standing up. My legs felt weak. "Marcus, why don't you go with Miss...?"

"Rachel," she supplied.

"With Miss Rachel and Oliver to check the facilities? I need to sit down for a moment. The drive made me dizzy."

"Of course," Marcus said, looking relieved to get away from my scrutiny. He handed the expensive toy to Oliver. "Here, buddy. Let's go look at the playroom."

They walked away, a perfect little family unit.

I waited until they turned the corner, then I slipped into the hallway adjacent to the playroom. I couldn't hear whispers anymore, but the walls here were thin plasterboard. I pressed my ear against the surface.

"...she looks hideous," Rachel's voice came through, muffled but audible. "That scar on her neck? Disgusting."

"It serves a purpose," Marcus's voice replied. "It keeps her insecure. She won't leave me if she thinks no one else will want her."

"Why didn't you just kill her?" Rachel whined. "I want to be Luna now. The ceremony is in two days."

"We have to be smart, Rachel. If she dies suspiciously right after the fire, the Council investigates. If she 'steps down' because of her injuries and tragic loss of her wolf, I look like the benevolent Alpha caring for a cripple, and you step in as the mother of my heir."

"Look at this!" Rachel exclaimed. "I got a Moonlight Healing Crystal from the market. Should we use it on her? Maybe fix her face so she's at least presentable for the photos?"

"Don't waste it," Marcus scoffed. "Those crystals are rare. Keep it for Oliver. Sarah doesn't need healing. She needs to stay exactly as she is—broken."

"Mommy, tell the ugly lady to go away," Oliver's voice piped up.

"Soon, baby. Soon she'll be living in the servants' quarters where she belongs."

I pulled away from the wall. My hands were shaking, but not from fear this time. From rage.

He would rather see me scarred for life than waste a crystal on me. He was already planning to move me to the servants' quarters.

I walked back to the entrance hall.

When they returned ten minutes later, I was sitting on the bench, smiling.

"Did you have a nice tour?" I asked.

"Very informative," Marcus said. He looked flushed, happy.

"I think we should sponsor little Oliver," I said, looking directly at Rachel. "He seems... special. Don't you think, Marcus? He has your eyes."

Marcus paled. Rachel narrowed her eyes, trying to gauge if I knew.

"Yes," Marcus stammered. "Yes, maybe."

"Great," I said, standing up. "Let's go home. I have so much to prepare for the ceremony."

Prepare to burn it all down, I thought.