The Rejected Luna's Secret: Rise Of The White Wolf

On our tenth mating anniversary, I stood outside my Alpha husband's office with his favorite coffee, only to be hit by the cloying scent of rotting peaches—a female in heat.

Through the mind-link, I heard him promise his mistress he'd deal with the "boring formalities" regarding me tonight.

I walked in to find him plotting with his pregnant assistant, Jami.

Instead of apologizing, Dustin sneered at me.

"She gave me in three months what you couldn't give me in ten years. A strong lineage."

He conveniently forgot that I was the one who built his empire, designed his impenetrable wards, and funded his lifestyle by selling my own family heirlooms.

When I confronted him about the betrayal, he didn't just dismiss me; he shoved me.

I crashed into a silver nightstand. For a normal wolf, silver is an irritant. For me, a descendant of the White Wolf bloodline, it is acid.

As my flesh sizzled and blood poured down my face, blinding me, Dustin didn't even flinch.

He stepped over my convulsing body—his wife of a decade—to ask his mistress if she was stressed.

Lying on the floor, watching him comfort the woman wearing my mother's stolen ring, the bond finally died.

He thought I was a broken, barren Luna who would accept his scraps just to keep her title.

He was wrong.

I didn't call the police. I called a specialist extraction team.

"I am the architect of this pack's security and financial systems," I told the crew. "Decommission everything."

I wasn't just leaving. I was taking my empire with me.

Chapter 1

Eliana POV:

The tray in my hands did not tremble, even though my wolf, Seraphina, was pacing anxiously in the back of my mind. The coffee in the porcelain cup was black, just the way Dustin liked it, infused with a drop of energy potion I had brewed myself. It was our tenth mating anniversary.

I stood before the heavy oak doors of the Alpha's office. I took a deep breath, expecting the scent of old paper and the sandalwood cologne I had bought him last month.

Instead, a different smell hit me.

It was cloying and sweet, like rotting peaches left out in the sun too long. It was the scent of a female in heat, masked poorly by cheap vanilla perfume. It clashed violently with Dustin's musk.

My stomach churned. I reached for the door handle, but my hand froze when I heard the Mind-Link.

In our pack, the Iron Ridge Pack, telepathic communication was usually reserved for emergencies or tactical commands. But sometimes, if an Alpha wasn't careful, his mental barriers slipped.

You promise? A female voice giggled in my head. It wasn't directed at me, but I intercepted it because my bond with Dustin was still technically intact.

I promise, kitten. Just let me deal with the boring formalities tonight. She expects dinner. It's the anniversary of the day I got stuck with her, Dustin's voice replied. His tone was not weary; it was excited. It was a tone he hadn't used with me in five years.

I felt the blood drain from my face. I lowered the tray to a side table. I didn't knock. I pushed the door open.

The office was empty, but the window was open. The curtains fluttered in the wind. The scent of sex and betrayal was so thick I could taste it on my tongue.

I walked to his desk. There, sitting right on top of the quarterly budget reports I had organized for him, was a bone bracelet. It looked like a primitive charm, something a low-ranking wolf would wear.

I picked it up. It smelled of her. The rotting peach scent.

Just then, the door behind me opened. Dustin walked in, adjusting his tie. He looked handsome, his dark hair slicked back, his jawline sharp. He was the picture of a powerful Alpha. A picture I had painted for him.

"Eliana," he said, his voice flat. He didn't look at me. He looked at the coffee. "You're late with the caffeine."

"Happy Anniversary, Dustin," I said quietly.

He blinked, as if I had spoken a foreign language. "Right. That." He walked past me, grabbing the bracelet from my hand without a second glance. He shoved it into his pocket. "I can't do dinner. Border patrol issues. Some rogues were spotted near the northern line."

It was a lie. I knew the northern line. I had designed the runic wards that protected it. If a rogue had so much as sneezed near the border, I would have felt the vibration in my bones.

"Rogues," I repeated.

"Yes. Don't wait up." He checked his watch, a Rolex I had bought him by pawning my grandmother's silver comb—one of the few things I had kept after walking away from my father's wealth to be with him. "And stop projecting that depressing aura. It's making my wolf agitated."

He didn't wait for a response. He turned and left.

As he walked away, I felt a sharp pinch in my mind. He had severed our mental connection for the night. He didn't want me to hear him with her.

I stood alone in the office. My eyes drifted to his computer screen. It was still active. A photo was minimized in the corner. I clicked it.

It was a selfie. Dustin's hand was resting possessively on a woman's stomach. The woman had blonde hair and a smirk that looked like a scar. Jami. His personal assistant.

On Dustin's wrist, in the photo, was the protection band I had woven from my own blood and spirit threads to keep him safe during the shift.

He was using my protection to touch his mistress.

I walked out of the office and went to the kitchen. On the counter sat the premium Spirit Meat I had ordered for our celebration dinner. It had cost a fortune.

I looked at the meat. It had turned gray. It was spoiled. Just like this marriage.

I grabbed the package and walked to the disposal chute. I shoved the expensive meat down the hole and listened to the grinder tear it apart.

"Seraphina?" I whispered to my wolf.

She didn't howl. She was too weak from years of suppressing our power to make Dustin look stronger. But for the first time in a decade, she stood up. She shook her fur.

I went upstairs to the bathroom and opened the cabinet. There was a box of pregnancy tests there, gathering dust. I had taken hundreds of them over the years, praying for a pup. We never conceived. The pack healers said my womb was "cold."

I looked at the empty box.

Thank the Goddess, I thought. Thank the Moon Goddess I am not carrying the spawn of a traitor.

I remembered the day we bought this land. I had foolishly refused my father's dowry, determined to prove that Dustin and I could build an empire on love alone. Instead, I had sold my mother's Moonstone camera—a rare artifact capable of capturing spiritual energy—just to pay the down payment. I had given up my art, my heritage, and my blood to build his throne.

I looked in the mirror. My brown eyes flashed gold for a split second—the mark of the White Wolf bloodline I had hidden from everyone, even him.

If Dustin wanted to treat me like a disposable stepping stone, he was about to learn a very painful lesson. You don't kick the stone that holds up the castle.