The Alpha's Rejected Luna: Her Revenge Begins

"Luna, I believe I've told you before that regardless of your reason for needing money, you must submit an application three days in advance according to the regulations."

Selene's voice cuts through the phone like ice.

My knuckles turn white around the device as I stand in the hospital corridor, the smell of antiseptic burning my nose.

"Please!" The word comes out broken. "A hundred thousand—just a hundred thousand. My mother was in a car accident. This is money to save her life! You're just a secretary. I can explain to Vern afterward, I'll submit whatever forms you need, but she's dying now—"

"That's not my concern."

Selene's laugh is cold and sharp. "And since it's a car accident, you should also provide the accident report and proof that the responsible party cannot be located. Pack financial protocols exist for a reason, Luna. I'm sure you understand."

The line goes dead.

I stare at my phone, my designer heels clicking against the linoleum as I pace.

The irony burns—I'm wearing a dress that costs more than the surgery my mother needs, with diamond earrings that could probably pay for her entire hospital stay.

But I have access to all of it and control over none of it. I only have usage rights, nothing more.

Since becoming Vern's Luna four years ago, his stepmother Sylvia made the financial arrangements crystal clear: as Luna, I would represent the pack's prestige, which meant maintaining appearances befitting our status.

Designer wardrobes, jewelry for pack functions, a luxury vehicle—all provided and maintained by pack funds. But personal liquidity? That required applications, approvals, documentation.

I'd agreed. For Vern's sake, I'd agreed to everything.

I'd handed over the small savings account I'd had before our marriage, signed papers I barely understood, smiled and nodded and promised to be the perfect Luna.

I never imagined those rules would become the cage that trapped me.

"Miss, you need to pay as soon as possible." The nurse appears beside me again, her expression apologetic but firm. "Your mother's internal bleeding is getting worse."

"Please," I whisper. "Just a little longer. I'll get the money, I promise."

She hesitates, glancing back toward the emergency wing.

"I'll tell the surgical team to prep, but they can't begin without payment authorization. Hospital policy. I'm sorry."

As she walks away, an older woman in the waiting area mutters loud enough for me to hear.

"Look at her, dressed like she's going to some fancy party. Designer clothes, expensive jewelry. But when her own mother is dying, she can't even come up with the hospital bill?"

"Shameful," another voice chimes in. "Young people these days have no sense of responsibility."

I feel their eyes on me, judging, condemning. My hands shake as I clutch my phone tighter.

Vern is my last hope—my husband, my mate, the Alpha who swore to protect me.

He usually doesn't allow me to contact him privately during work hours, says it sets a bad precedent for pack hierarchy, but surely this is different. Surely when I explain that my mother is dying, that I need him, he'll answer.

The call goes straight to voicemail. Not even a ring—just that automated voice, cold and impersonal. "The number you have dialed is currently unavailable."

"He's blocked us," my wolf Elle says quietly in my mind. "I can't feel him anymore. He's shut us out completely."

There must be some mistake, some technical issue.

I dial again. And again. Each time, that same mechanical rejection.

My fingers tremble so badly I nearly drop the phone on the fourth attempt.

"Please answer," I whisper, pressing the call button once more. "Please, Vern, please..."

Nothing.

"Unbelievable," I hear someone mutter behind me. "She's been standing there making calls for half an hour while her mother bleeds out. What kind of daughter does that?"

I want to scream at them. I want to explain that I've been trying, that I've been begging, that every second I spend on this phone is another second of desperation.

But my throat closes up and no words come out.

The doctor approaches, his shoulders set, his expression carefully neutral. He says quietly, "Your mother had been in critical condition too long without surgical intervention. I'm very sorry—she's gone."

The words reach me as if from underwater.

My ears fill with a rushing sound and the edges of my vision blur white. I slump against the wall, the floor cold beneath me.

Someone's crying—high, broken sounds—and it takes me a moment to realize it's me.

"Poor woman," I hear someone say, but the tone is more contemptuous than sympathetic. "Died waiting for her daughter to figure out how to pay. What a way to go."

My phone vibrates.

Through tear-blurred vision, I see a notification from the hospital billing system. Not about my mother—about my sister Mia.

Her monthly treatment fee for Wolf Soul Deterioration Syndrome is overdue. A hundred thousand dollars. Vern has always paid it without question, an automatic transfer on the first of every month.

But now it's overdue.

I stare at the screen, my vision blurring again.

Why did everything happen at the same time? Why did the person who promised to protect me disappear when I needed him most?

Why did the rules I accepted for love become the reason I lost my mother?

The hospital corridor is still full of people—doctors, families, strangers.

Everyone continues living.

But my world has stopped.

I force myself to stand, my body heavy, my heart empty.

For four years, I built my entire life around Vern, around being his Luna, around being his mate. I gave him my trust, my savings, my future. I thought I was building a home.

But standing here, after losing my mother, I finally understand. I had built my life on something I could never control.

My phone rings again.

I stare at the unfamiliar number on the screen.

Who could it be? Who would be calling me at a time like this?

My voice comes out hoarse. "Hello?"

"Oh my poor child, you must have suffered so much." The woman's voice is warm, almost too warm. "Your father and I will make it up to you. Please come home with us, won't you?"

My mind goes blank. I can't process what I'm hearing.

"Who... who is this?"

"I'm your mother, sweetheart. Your biological mother." Her voice softens. "We've been searching for you for so long. We only just found you."

I've always known I was adopted. My mom—my real mom, the one who raised me—never hid it from me.

And now, on the very day she died, my biological parents appear out of nowhere, offering to take me home?

The timing is too perfect, too cruel. The Moon Goddess must be laughing at me.

"What's your decision, Lyra?" On the phone, my biological mother urges me, as if she knows I'm teetering on the edge.

I don't believe it—is this some new kind of scam?

But even so, a thread of hope still lingers in my heart, the way a drowning person will grasp at any piece of driftwood within reach.

Mom is dead. I couldn't save her.

But Mia is still alive, still fighting, and she needs treatment I can't afford on my own.

"Can you give me a hundred thousand dollars?" I ask, my voice steadier now.

If they're scammers, this will end the conversation quickly.

She's silent for a moment. When she speaks again, her tone shifts—becomes confident, almost superior.

"Of course, but on the condition that you return to our side."

My hand trembles around the phone.

Eighteen years. A lifetime.

And now, at the moment when I have nothing left, someone is telling me I was never truly alone.

I don't know whether to cry or laugh, because fate has a cruel sense of humor. It waited until I lost the mother who loved me, until the person I trusted most abandoned me, until I was standing at the edge of my life.

Only then did it decide to return something to me.

The choice is obvious. I don't even need to think about it.

I take a shuddering breath. My chest feels like it's being squeezed, but I force the words out.

"I agree to return to you, but I have conditions."

"It's only a hundred thousand, right? We'll give you a million." Her response is immediate, almost eager. "The driver will come get you now."

A million dollars.

Said so casually, as if it's nothing.

"Two hours," I say, my voice steadier than I feel. "I'll send you the address in two hours. I have something I need to do first."

There's a pause on the other end, then a knowing hum. "Of course, darling. Take your time. We'll be waiting."

I end the call and stand there for a moment, staring at the blank screen.

Then I turn toward the emergency wing, my legs moving on autopilot.

The nurse sees me coming and her expression softens with sympathy.

"Would you like to see her?" she asks quietly.

I nod, unable to speak.

She leads me through a set of double doors into a small, sterile room.

My mother lies on the bed, covered with a white sheet. Her face is peaceful now, the lines of pain smoothed away.

I sink into the chair beside her and take her cold hand in mine.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, my voice breaking. "I'm so sorry, Mom. I tried. I tried so hard."

The tears come again, hot and endless.

I sit there with her for what feels like both an eternity and no time at all, memorizing the shape of her face, the curve of her fingers, storing away every detail because this is the last time I'll ever see her.

Finally, I lean down and press a kiss to her forehead.

"I love you," I whisper. "Thank you for everything. Thank you for being my mom."

I force myself to stand, to let go of her hand, to walk out of that room.

The nurse is waiting outside with paperwork. I sign what needs to be signed, my hand moving mechanically across the pages.

When I step out of the hospital into the cool night air, I walk across the parking lot to my car—the sleek black luxury sedan that represents everything I have access to but don't truly own.

I slide into the driver's seat and grip the steering wheel, my knuckles white against the leather.

Four years of my life.

Four years of trust, of devotion, of trying to be everything he needed me to be.

And when I needed him most, he blocked my calls and let my mother die.

I don't want to be his Luna anymore.

I turn the key in the ignition, the engine purring to life beneath me.

My hands are steady now as I shift into drive and pull out of the parking lot, heading toward the pack house.

I want to sever the mate bond.

I want to be free.