The White Wolf He Threw Away Returns As Luna

Ellie POV

The chisel glided against the marble with a rhythmic precision. *Tap. Tap. Scrape.*

Fine stone dust danced in the sunbeams filtering through the skylight of my studio, settling over the room like a soft, white veil. It coated my hands, turning them as pale as my White Wolf fur.

"You've been at it for hours, *amore*."

David’s voice wrapped around me, warm and grounding. I turned to see him leaning against the doorframe, holding a tray with water and fresh fruit. His scent—rich Earth and crisp Pine—filled the room, instantly settling the low hum of anxious energy beneath my skin.

"It's almost done," I said, stepping back to critique the sculpture.

It was a wolf breaking out of chains. Not just any wolf. A female, her marble muscles strained against invisible bonds, head thrown back to howl at a moon that wasn't there.

David set the tray down and walked over, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind. He rested his chin on my shoulder, careful not to get dust on his impeccable suit. Being an Alpha meant endless meetings, but he always made time to come here. To just watch me.

"It's powerful," he murmured, his breath tickling my ear. "Just like you."

I leaned back into him, letting his solidity anchor me. The bond between us was a steady, thrumming rhythm. It wasn't the frantic, desperate pull I had felt with Marcus years ago. It was solid. Safe. It was peace.

"My White Wolf is restless today," I admitted, wiping my hands on a rag. "She feels... unsettled. Like something is coming."

David stiffened slightly against my back. "Rogues?"

"No," I shook my head, turning in his arms. "Not danger. Just... sorrow. A deep, echoing sorrow carried on the wind."

He cupped my face, his blue eyes searching mine with intensity. "You are safe here, Ellie. You are my Luna. The pack adores you. Your sculptures are bringing in visitors from packs all over Italy. You have built a life."

"I know," I smiled, reaching up to trace the strong line of his jaw. "And I wouldn't trade it for anything."

He kissed me then, deep and slow. It tasted of strawberries and promise.

But even as I melted into him, that strange feeling persisted. A ghost of a sensation. A memory of a bond that had been severed long ago.

*

Marcus POV

I smelled like a Rogue. I smelled like death.

I hadn't bathed in days. My clothes were torn from tearing through the underbrush. My beard was overgrown, itching against my skin like a constant reminder of my neglect.

I stood on the edge of a public square in a small town near the Blood Rose territory. An art exhibition.

People—humans and wolves alike—were crowding around a display in the center. I shouldn't be here. I was an Alpha without a pack, a man without a mate. But the scent...

I sniffed the air, desperate for another hit. Beneath the smell of roasted coffee and cloying perfume, there was a faint trace. Winter Frost.

It was a siren song I couldn't resist.

It led me to a statue.

I pushed through the crowd, ignoring their grumbles and the way they wrinkled their noses at my filth. When I saw it, my breath hitched in my throat.

It was a marble sculpture of a wolf. The pain etched into the stone eyes was so raw, so visceral, it felt like looking into a mirror. The plaque beneath it read: *Rebirth. Artist: E. Thorne.*

Thorne. She kept my name? Or had she just forgotten to change it?

"Beautiful, isn't it?" a woman next to me said. "The artist is the new Luna of the Blood Rose Pack. They say she is a White Wolf."

The wave hit me, crashing down like a tidal wave. *The new Luna.*

I turned and ran.

I ran until the town was behind me, shifting into my wolf form as soon as I hit the tree line. Bones cracked and reshaped. My brown fur was matted, my ribs showing through my skin.

I crossed the border into Blood Rose territory. I knew it was suicide. David would kill me if he caught me. But I had to see her. I had to see her face one more time.

I crept through the shadows of the forest, a ghost haunting the perimeter, following the scent that haunted my dreams. Winter Frost and Lilac.

I found them in a garden behind the main Pack House.

She was sitting on a stone bench, laughing. Her hair was silver-white, shining in the sunlight like spun moonlight. She looked radiant. Healthy. Strong.

And he was there.

David sat on the grass at her feet, looking up at her with an expression of such pure devotion it made my stomach churn with acid. He said something, and she threw her head back, her laughter ringing like bells.

She reached down and ran her fingers through his hair.

My wolf let out a low, pathetic whine. *That should be us.*

*No,* I thought, the bitterness tasting like bile in my throat. *I threw that away.*

I watched them for an hour. I watched him kiss her hand as if it were a sacred relic. I watched her look at him with eyes that held no shadows, no pain.

She was happy.

And that hurt more than the Rejection ever could.