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When My Mate Chose Her Novel Cover

When My Mate Chose Her

The pack house was silent at three in the morning, the kind of silence that pressed against my skin like a physical weight. I moved through the darkened hallways like a ghost, my bare feet making no sound on the cold wooden floors. Ophelia had finally fallen asleep after hours of fussing, her small body curled tight around her favorite stuffed wolf. But I knew better than to hope for rest. Sleep had become a stranger to me, another casualty of the darkness that had settled in my chest since she was born. The medication the pack healer had prescribed sat untouched in my bathroom cabinet. I couldn't bear the thought of dulling myself further, of missing even more of Ophelia's precious moments in a chemical haze. Tonight, I needed something real—the small blue blanket Ophelia loved, the one that smelled like lavender and home, tucked away in Sterling's office. I didn't turn on the lights. After months of navigating these halls in the dark, I knew every corner, every shadow.
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Chapter 5

The pack registry office was silent save for the soft hum of ancient computers and the occasional rustle of paper. I stood before the archives, my hands steady as I pulled out the heavy leather-bound registry that contained the official records of every mate bond in Moonveil Pack's history. My fingers traced the embossed silver moon on its cover—a symbol of the sacred bonds the Moon Goddess herself had blessed. Or so we were told.

The archivist, a middle-aged Delta woman named Eliza, looked up with surprise as I approached her desk. 'Luna Maren,' she said, her voice hushed with respect. 'What brings you to the archives today?'

'I need to access the mate rejection protocols,' I said, my voice calm and clear. 'And the official forms.'

Eliza's eyes widened slightly, but she asked no questions. She simply nodded and pulled a thick folder from beneath her desk. 'Of course, Luna. I'll get you what you need.'

I sat at the small wooden table in the corner of the office, the rejection papers spread out before me. The legal language was dense, the requirements specific and unyielding. But as I read through each section, a strange sense of clarity washed over me. This wasn't just a formality—it was a reclamation.

With steady hands, I began to fill out the documents. My name, Sterling's name, the date of our mating, the grounds for rejection. My pen didn't waver as I wrote the words: 'Emotional abandonment. Spiritual infidelity. Irreparable breach of mate bond.'

When I reached the bottom of the final page, I pulled out the small silver box that contained my Luna seal. The wax was warm and pliable as I pressed the seal into it, the crescent moon and wolf's head emblem glowing faintly in the dim light of the office.

'There,' I whispered, setting the seal aside to cool. 'It's done.'

The weight that had been pressing on my chest for so long seemed to lift, just slightly. Not gone, not yet, but lighter. I felt like I could breathe again.

I returned to the pack house, my steps sure and deliberate. The rejection papers were tucked safely in the leather satchel, along with the 521 notes. Evidence. Ammunition.

In my bedroom, I opened the closet and reached for the back, where I'd hidden it away. The Luna ceremonial sash lay folded neatly on the shelf, its deep blue fabric embroidered with silver threads that caught the light. I hadn't worn it since Ophelia's birth, unable to bear the weight of what it represented.

But today was different. Today, I needed every ounce of Luna authority I could muster.

I dressed with meticulous care, each movement deliberate. The white blouse, the tailored black pants, the silver jewelry that marked me as Luna. And finally, the sash. It felt heavier than I remembered as I tied it around my waist, the fabric settling against my hips like an old friend.

I looked in the mirror, and for the first time in months, I recognized myself. Not just as Sterling's mate, not just as Ophelia's mother, but as Luna. As Maren.

A soft knock on the door interrupted my thoughts. 'Come in,' I called, my voice steady.

Sara, a young Omega woman from the pack, entered with a gentle smile. 'You called for me, Luna?'

'Yes,' I said, returning her smile. 'I need you to watch Ophelia for me. I have... business to attend to.'

Sara nodded, her eyes kind. 'Of course, Luna. I'll take good care of her.'

I walked to the nursery, where Ophelia was playing with her wooden wolf. She looked up as I entered, her eyes brightening. 'Mama Moon!' she exclaimed, holding out her arms.

I picked her up, cradling her close. Her small body was warm against mine, her scent—a mixture of baby powder and innocence—filling my nostrils. I pressed a kiss to her forehead, lingering there for a moment.

'I love you, Ophelia,' I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. 'More than anything in this world.'

She giggled, not understanding the weight behind my words. 'Love Mama Moon too!'

I set her down gently, handing her to Sara. 'Be good for Sara, okay? Mama has to go do something important.'

Ophelia nodded solemnly, already distracted by the promise of a new game. I took one last look at her, burning her image into my mind, before turning and walking out the door.

The drive to the Black Moon Pack estate was long, the miles stretching out before me like a promise. With each passing minute, my Luna aura grew stronger, more vibrant. It had been suppressed for so long, hidden beneath layers of depression and doubt. But now it flared to life, a beacon of power and purpose.

As the imposing gates of the Black Moon Pack came into view, I felt a surge of determination. The Mate Ceremony between Fernanda and Dario Voss was about to begin. And I was about to crash it.

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