CHAPTER 1

Rachael POV

“Shut up, Racheal. You’re just too weak.”

The words hit me like a blade to the chest.

I stared at Ezekiel, blinking as if I hadn't heard right. My own husband. The Alpha of Blue Moon. The man I married….no, sacrificed myself to was now looking me in the face and calling me weak.

“Did you just tell me to shut up?” My voice trembled, not from fear, but from the weight of betrayal.

 “After what you promised her? You gave your word that you'd be faithful to one mate. That you'd protect me.”

He turned his head slightly, refusing to meet my eyes.

“You came back from the battlefield,” I continued, “and now you show up with another woman claiming she’s your fated mate? Is this how you repay my loyalty?”

“Racheal…” he said, voice flat. “I’m the Alpha of the Blue Moon Pack. I can’t settle for someone like you. 

You're not strong enough. You’re good with the people, yes. But I need a warrior beside me now. Someone who can stand equal to my power.”

My fists clenched by my side, nails digging into my palm. “I gave you everything, Ezekiel. My home.

I married you not because I loved you but because my dying mother believed you would keep me safe. Because we had nothing else left.”

His eyes flickered, but he said nothing.

That night burned into my memory like an old wound that never healed.

Kael and I had gone out for patrol in the Grey Moon Pack. My eldest brother and I had walked those woods hundreds of times. But that evening felt… different. The air was too still. A strange, bitter scent lingered clinging to the trees like a silent threat.

Before we could raise the alarm, the shadows broke open and spilled death.

Rogues.

They came in a silent wave, eyes wild, mouths snarling. No warning. No mercy. They tore through our borders with speed and cruelty, and by the time our pack caught on, they were already inside burning, slaughtering, destroying.

I fought like hell. Every blow I landed was for my family, for my people. But they kept coming.

I watched my second brother fall, pierced through the chest.

My youngest barely a boy died. He didn’t even cry out. Just dropped.

And then my father, Alpha Darius, the fiercest man I ever knew, stood his ground in the heart of the chaos. He fought like a storm but even storms fall. A blade found his back when he was distracted.

I reached him too late.

His blood stained my hands as I cradled him. His last words were simple. A whisper that would haunt me forever:

“Live. Protect what remains.”

My mother, Luna Myer wounded and barely standing dragged me through a hidden tunnel beneath the forest floor. Her face was streaked with ash and blood, but her eyes… her eyes held fire.

“You carry what’s left of us now,” she said, voice trembling but firm. “You are the legacy, Racheal.”

Only thirty of us survived that night.

Grey Moon Pack the pack that had ruled for three generations was reduced to nothing but ash and memory. Our lands were taken. Our warriors, gone. Our name… barely a whisper.

But my mother refused to let it die.

She arranged a deal with the one Alpha powerful enough to offer protection. Ezekiel of the Blue Moon Pack. A marriage, not of love, but of strategy. 

I didn’t protest. There was no time for dreams. No space for love. I was the last flame of my family. I would marry him. I would protect the survivors. I would carry the weight.

I entered Blue Moon Pack with dignity and silence. I carried hidden treasures from Grey Moon , secrets only a daughter of Alpha Darius would know. I used my wealth in the making Ezekiel pack good and comfortable. I gave him loyalty.

I ruled beside him. I led his people when he was away. I raised his warriors. I gave this pack my life.

And now, he calls me weak.

“Ezekiel…” I whispered. “Is this how you betray me? Knowing my family is gone? Knowing I have no one left?”

He lowered his eyes. Because deep down, he knew I was right.

“But…” he started.

“But what?” I snapped, stepping forward. “Don’t even finish that sentence, Ezekiel. I have”

“How dare you speak to the Alpha that way!” he roared, voice booming through the hall.

He raised his hand like he meant to strike me.

I didn’t flinch. I looked him dead in the eye, my voice ice cold.

“I have taken care of this pack as if it were my own. I’ve given everything. Sacrificed everything. I..”

I paused, nearly revealing the one secret he still didn’t know. The one secret that would shake this pack to its bones.

But he cut in.

“Quiet, Racheal!” he barked. “You’re nothing but a housewife. You may keep your place as my mate but Lucy… Lucy is my fated. She’s strong. She’s a warrior. She isn’t like you.”

His voice softened oddly when he spoke her name. Like a boy talking about a goddess.

“Lucy,” he said again, almost proudly. “She’s everything I need in a Luna.”

Rage boiled inside me. I turned and stormed out of the hall, every footstep echoing with fury.

He would regret this...

With anger burning inside me, I turned away from Ezekiel. I wouldn’t let him see me break. I had given everything to this pack my loyalty, my strength, my silence and this was how he treated me.

Each step down the hall felt heavier than the last.

I reached the door to our room and hoped for a moment of peace. A place to collect myself.

But when I turned the corner, my heart stopped.

No. This can’t be.

My things were scattered all over the cold floor.

Not just moved. Thrown.

My dresses were crumpled and torn, stretched out like broken flags.

My mother’s old scarf the one she wrapped me in when we escaped the fire was crushed under a heavy boot.

The wooden box holding my father’s insignia? It was broken and empty.

My journals… ripped open, pages torn and fluttering in the wind, secrets left wide open.

Then I saw it the worst part.

A soft, light purple cloth

Lucy’s scent was on it. That smell she always wore. Soft but sharp. It wasn’t a mistake.

She did this.

She didn’t just take Ezekiel.

She wanted me to see.

To feel it.

A small piece of paper was pinned to the door with a dagger.

I pulled it off.

There were no words, just a jagged line cut across the paper like a scar.

The message was clear: You’re not welcome here.

My hands shook as I bent down to pick up the torn pages of my journal.

Click.

The door behind me moved.

My breath caught.

I didn’t

dare turn around.

I heard footsteps, a shadow maybe.

Someone was there.

Watching.

Waiting.

And as I reached for my things, the door slowly opened…