The Alpha King's Undoing

Aurélie POV

I am married, yet I am not mated.

I carry the title of wife to the Alpha King of the Bloodnight Pack. His wife… but not his Luna. It’s a distinction no one dares speak of openly, a technicality the pack has long chosen to ignore. For two years, they’ve treated me as if the bond existed loyal, respectful, unwavering in their support. I was the Luna in every way but name, even if the title burned like a lie in the back of my throat.

The Bloodnight Pack rules over many. Our warriors have never fallen in battle, our alliances hold weight and fear in equal measure. Smaller packs bend the knee, seeking our protection, trusting the Alpha King to come when their borders bleed.

“Luna… be careful. Let me do that,” Élodie, one of the staff, calls gently, watching me from below.

As acting Luna, I had organized every detail of the annual Moon Conference a gathering of power wrapped in silk and ceremony. It ended only last night. This morning, while the others cleaned, I insisted on helping. They told me I’d already done enough. They never understood that I needed to keep moving, needed to feel useful.

Early summer wrapped the land in deceptive warmth as I balanced on top of a ladder, plucking down the strings of fairy lights and the new banners I had designed. The crimson fabric carried the Bloodnight crest a crown and a wolf howling beneath a red blood moon. My hands were steady, but my mind… never was.

“I’m fine, Élodie,” I call down. “You could help by packing some of the food. Maybe the night watch would appreciate something warm this morning. They missed out last night.”

“Yes, Luna. You’re always so kind to think of them,” she replies with a smile before summoning another pack member.

“Just part of being Luna,” I murmur. A small, soft smile flickers on my lips. I’ve never quite known how to accept kindness.

“Denise, help Luna with the lights,” Élodie instructs, leaving to pack up.

“Of course. Luna, let me do that before the Alpha has our heads,” Denise quips.

I almost laugh almost but it’s dangerous to make jokes at Damien’s expense. Ours is a marriage built on power, not love. He doesn’t like me. He tolerates me. And in our marriage bed, there is only cold. No bond. No warmth. No touch. Still, I’ve stayed. Foolishly hoping he might one day look at me and see me.

Denise climbs the other ladder, helping me unravel the web of lights. “It was a great gathering, Luna. You outdid yourself this year. It’s nice to finally have a Luna again.”

And then before he even steps into view I feel him. That scent. Dark, rich leather with something sweet curling beneath it. My knees weaken; my wolf trembles. For the first year of our marriage, it took everything in me not to melt at the sound of his voice, not to give myself away.

Damien. The Alpha King.

He was every girl’s fantasy long before he became my reality. Broad-shouldered, with long dark blonde hair tied at the nape of his neck, and eyes the color of a clear, frozen lake. A face both beautiful and cruel. He became Alpha King after our union his father stepping down, leaving him with the weight of a crown and a kingdom. Their strained relationship vanished into silence. I hadn’t seen the old Alpha since.

The air thickens when he approaches, as if the world itself holds its breath for him. My fingers fumble with the fairy lights, pretending I don’t notice him closing the distance with that slow, predatory walk.

His grey shirt clings to his body like a second skin, threatening to split at the seams over those carved muscles. Ink crawls down his arms, and I remember the wings etched across his back, the name beneath them I could never quite read. Loose black jeans. Ready to shift. Always ready to fight.

My wolf whimpers inside me, and just as my legs betray me, the ladder shifts. I fall only to land against his chest. His grip is firm, rough around my waist. For a heartbeat, our eyes meet. His breath ghosts against the spot where his mark should be.

His bright blue eyes darken to stormwater a silent snarl from his wolf.

“Erm… thanks,” I manage, stepping back, forcing air into my lungs. His wolf does not like to be touched. Not by me.

Damien is a cold man. Proud. Ruthless. He is Alpha King not because of kindness but because no one dares stand against him. And I, with my soft heart and clumsy smiles, will never be his match. Yet I can’t stop searching for the warmth I swear is buried beneath his ice.

“You shouldn’t have put them so high,” he tuts, shaking his head.

“Then they wouldn’t have worked, Alpha. Luna did an excellent job,” Denise interjects.

“Yes,” he says tonelessly. “You’ve clearly worked hard, Aurélie.”

My name on his lips is a blade wrapped in velvet. It shouldn’t make my wolf sing, but it does.

“Thank you, Alpha,” I murmur, inwardly cringing at how small I sound.

“Do you need help packing?”

“No. I’m sure you have other matters to handle.”

“Of course,” he replies, lips flattening.

Élodie returns then, lighthearted and unaware. “So, Alpha… when are you giving the pack a pup? We’re all dying for a baby!”

“Élodie!” Denise hisses, scandalized.

My blood burns. I can feel the heat rising to my cheeks as Damien’s glare slams into Élodie. The weight of his power rolls through the air like a thunderstorm. My heart pounds, not from fear but from the reminder of what I want and cannot have.

The pack doesn’t know the truth. They don’t know how I ache for a child. For his child. A pup might make him look at me differently. Might anchor me to him in a way my empty title never has.

But in two years, he’s touched me only once.

That night burned itself into my bones. He’d been drunk on whiskey and grief, too lost to care who held him. I had helped him upstairs, and when his hands finally reached for me, I didn’t hesitate. For me, it was everything. For him, it was a mistake. He fled the next morning without a word.

And then there were the photographs. A girl with soft eyes and a smile he used to return. Geneviève. His mate. The real Luna that should have stood where I stand now.

My cheeks are still burning as I turn back to the lights. He leaves under the excuse of taking the packed food, leaving silence and awkward stares behind. Élodie and Denise exchange quiet glances. My world tilts dizzy, nauseous, wrong.

“Luna, are you alright? You look pale,” Denise says, stepping forward.

“I’m fine. Just… tired,” I lie.

They insist on finishing up. I walk away from the warmth of their voices toward the sterile brightness of the medical center. Wolves don’t get dizzy spells not like this.

“Come in,” Fabrice calls softly when I knock on his door.

His smile is warm, familiar. A piece of the life I left behind in the Darkvale pack. He followed me here to ensure I had someone to trust. My best friend. My doctor. The one who sees through the mask I wear for everyone else.

I catch my reflection in the mirror pale skin, tired green eyes, hair dull like winter straw. My once bright lips now just… lips. Petite curves swallowed by oversized clothes. It’s easier this way. Damien never noticed when I tried.

“Aurélie,” Fabrice says, concern clouding his chocolate-brown eyes behind gold-rimmed glasses.

I sink into the chair like a woman who’s run out of armor.

He checks my heart, my breathing. His voice is low, gentle, but firm when he asks, “How are things… really?”

I let out a humorless laugh. “The Moon Conference is done. Things should calm down now.”

“And Damien?”

I sigh. That says everything.

He scowls, wolf rising in his chest. “Two years, Aurélie. Two years and not once has he looked at you the way he should.”

“Don’t,” I whisper. “I’ve made my choice.”

He examines me carefully, hands warm but clinical. “Are you and Damien… intimate?”

“Fabrice!”

“Be honest.”

I look away. “Two months ago.”

He goes quiet for a heartbeat, then breathes out a single sentence that cracks the air in two.

“You’re pregnant.”

The room spins again, but this time it’s not fear. It’s light. It’s joy. It’s hope clawing its way up my throat.

I barely hear the rest the appointment, the vitamins, the instructions. I run. I run toward the Alpha mansion with my hands on my stomach and a wild, fragile happiness blooming in my chest.

His pup. Our pup. Maybe this is it. Maybe this is what finally makes him see me.

But when I push open his office door, the world doesn’t wait for me to breathe.

Damien is already holding someone else. A woman. His arms are wrapped around her like they were made for it. She’s crying into his chest, and he’s holding her as if he belongs nowhere else.

Her scent is soft, achingly familiar.

Geneviève.

His mate.

The woman he was always meant to love.

My heart doesn’t just crack. It shatters.