The Unwanted Luna: Claimed By The True Alpha King

Charlotte POV:

Pain.

Dull, throbbing, encompassing. I was hanging by my wrists from a rusted pipe in a warehouse smelling of mold and old blood. A heavy leather muzzle gagged me.

I struggled. The ropes were soaked in liquid silver, burning my skin. My dormant wolf whimpered, a dying candle.

The metal door creaked. Heavy footsteps.

Aiden walked into the light. But not the Aiden I knew.

Clothes torn. Skin flushed red. Eyes... gone. Replaced by pools of glowing, feral gold. No pupil, no iris. Pure beast.

"Rogue..." he growled. A vibration that rattled my bones.

Feral State. Someone had drugged him, stripped his humanity.

"Kill the threat," a voice whispered from a speaker. Haven, distorted. "She is the leader. She took the boy. Kill the threat."

Aiden roared. He didn't recognize me. My scent was masked by Wolfsbane and filth. To him, I was just the enemy who hurt his son.

He charged.

The first blow broke my ribs. I couldn't scream through the muzzle, only gurgle. He hit me again and again. A massacre. An Alpha against a human-weak female.

He slashed his claws across my stomach. White-hot fire.

I tried to push a thought to him. Aiden, it's me!

But the bond was silent. He grabbed my throat, slammed me against the brick wall.

"Die," he snarled.

My vision went black.

Satisfied the "enemy" was broken, the beast receded slightly. He dropped me. I crumpled, ropes snapping. He turned and stumbled out, gait uneven like a drunk.

He paused at the door, spotting the silver anklet in a pool of my blood. A flicker of confusion crossed his face. But the drug was too strong. He shook his head and vanished into the night.

I lay there for a long time.

I was going to die here.

No.

A voice echoed in my mind. Not a whimper. Deep. Ancient.

Get up.

A surge of heat erupted in my core. Not fever. Star fire. White light knit my ribs. The bleeding slowed. The pain became fuel.

I dragged myself to the wall. With a trembling finger, I dipped it into my own blood.

I wrote three words on the peeling paint.

I REJECT YOU.

"I, Charlotte Knox," I rasped through the ruined muzzle, "reject you, Aiden Herrera, as my mate."

Thunder cracked outside. I felt something snap inside me—a guillotine dropping. The connection was severed.

I stood up. Limping, bleeding, alone. But not empty.

I pushed open the back door and vanished into the storm.