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

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.
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Chapter 3

Eliana POV:

I didn't take much. Just my grimoire of runes, my laptop, and my old film camera.

I left the mansion and walked straight to the edge of the territory. As I crossed the invisible barrier of the wards, I felt a tug in my gut. These were my wards. I had sung the spells into the earth myself.

With a mental snap, I severed my connection to them.

Behind me, the lights of the mansion flickered. The security system would now be glitchy, the heating inefficient. The house was reacting to the loss of its mistress.

I walked five miles to the nearest human town. I didn't go to a hotel. I went to Sarah's apartment.

Sarah was a Beta who had left the pack life years ago to live among humans. She was the only friend I had left who wasn't on Dustin's payroll.

When she opened the door and saw me—shivering, pale, and carrying a duffel bag—she didn't ask questions. She just pulled me inside and handed me a blanket.

I slept for three days.

It was a coma-like sleep. My body was purging the stress of the bond. My wolf, Seraphina, howled in my dreams, mourning the loss of her mate, but also celebrating her freedom.

When I woke up on the fourth day, the sun was streaming through the window. I felt empty, but light. The crushing weight of Dustin's expectations was gone.

"You're alive," Sarah said, walking into the living room with toast. "Your ex-husband has been blowing up your phone."

I looked at my phone. 47 missed calls. 12 voicemails.

I didn't listen to them. I turned on the small TV in the corner.

It was a local news channel. They were interviewing the local business leaders. There was Dustin, looking charming in a suit. Jami was next to him, beaming.

"Mr. Powell," the reporter asked. "What is the secret to your success?"

"A strong diet," Dustin laughed. "My partner prepares a special tonic. Silver-infused energy blends. It keeps the mind sharp. Most wolves can't handle the metal content, but... I like living on the edge."

My blood ran cold.

Silver.

He was bragging about micro-dosing the one substance that was uniquely lethal to me. While most wolves just got a rash from ingested silver, my White Wolf bloodline made me hypersensitive. It caused anaphylaxis. I had spent ten years carefully filtering our water and food.

He knew this.

He was celebrating with the very thing that could kill me. It was the ultimate proof. He hadn't just neglected me; he had erased my existence from his mind. He didn't care if I lived or died.

My phone buzzed again. A text from Dustin.

Where are you? I can't find the pack seal. The bank needs it for the loan renewal. Stop being a childish brat and come home.

He didn't care that I was gone. He cared that he couldn't find his stamp.

I looked at the text. I started to type the code to the safe—it was the date the pack was founded, not our anniversary.

Then, I stopped.

Why should I make it easy?

"Sarah," I said, standing up. My legs felt strong. "I need to go back."

"Are you crazy?" Sarah asked, dropping her toast.

"Not to stay," I said. My eyes drifted to my hand. My ring finger was bare. But my mother's ring—a sapphire set in ancient goblin silver—was still in the safe in the master bedroom. It was the source of my family's runic power.

"I left something behind," I said. "And I'm going to take back what is mine."

I grabbed my camera. I wasn't going back as a wife. I was going back as a spy. A ghost in the machine I had built.

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