THE NIGHT I WAS REJECTED

Elara POV

The Moon was already high when they called my name.

“Elara Moonfall.”

The sharp crack of Elder Rowan’s staff against stone split the clearing. The sound echoed once, then died, leaving a silence so complete I could hear my own heartbeat pounding in my ears.

Cold air slid beneath my skin.

The white dress they had given me clung to my body, thin as breath, the fabric damp against my palms where my hands shook. The hem brushed my bare ankles, already numb from standing too long on the frost-kissed ground. The scent of pine smoke and crushed grass filled the clearing, sharp enough to sting my nose.

This was supposed to be sacred.

This was supposed to be beautiful.

All my life, I had been taught one truth above all others:

The Moon does not make mistakes.

“You’re shaking,” Vera whispered beside me. Her shoulder brushed mine, warm, solid, real. “Breathe. This is your bond night. Your mate is already here.”

Her voice was steady, but her fingers tightened painfully around my wrist, as if she could hold me in place by force alone.

Vera had always been like that—strong where I was quiet, bold where I learned to disappear. When the others mocked me for being weak, for being an omega who dreamed too much, she was the one who stood between me and their cruelty.

“I don’t feel right,” I murmured. My throat felt tight, raw. “What if the Moon is wrong?”

Vera snorted softly. “The Moon isn’t wrong. People are.”

I wanted to believe her.

Moonlight flooded the Silverclaw Pack grounds, turning the ancient stone circle into pale silver glass. The symbols carved into the stones glowed faintly beneath the light, older than memory, older than law.

Wolves stood in perfect ranks around the circle.

Alphas at the front.

Betas behind them.

Omegas pushed near the trees, half-hidden in shadow.

That was where we belonged. Except tonight.

Tonight, I stood in the center of the circle.

Dozens of eyes burned into me. Some curious. Some amused. Some sharp with open disdain.

Whispers slithered through the crowd like snakes through grass.

“An omega?”

“She thinks the Moon chose her?”

“How embarrassing.”

Heat crept up my neck, shame prickling my skin, but I lifted my chin and forced myself not to run.

This was my night.

I had waited for it since the first time my wolf stirred inside me, small, uncertain, aching—whispering a name that never made sense.

Darius.

Elder Rowan lifted his staff again. The carved bone at its head gleamed white in the moonlight.

“Elara Moonfall,” he said. “Step forward.”

My bare feet met the stone. Ice-cold.

The chill shot up my legs, biting deep, but I didn’t stop. My heart pounded so loudly I was certain everyone could hear it. Each step felt like walking toward judgment itself.

Across the circle stood Alpha Darius Blackmoor.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Impossibly calm. His dark ceremonial cloak marked him as the future Alpha King of Silverclaw, the sigil stitched in silver thread over his heart. Power wrapped around him like a second skin. Wolves lowered their heads instinctively as he stood there, unmoving.

My mate.

I had known it for years. The pull had always been there, quiet but unbreakable. A thin silver thread wrapped around my soul, tugging gently whenever he was near.

They said I was delusional.

An omega dreaming of an alpha.

A nobody reaching too high.

But the Moon did not lie.

“Elara Moonfall,” Elder Rowan intoned. “Stand before the Moon.”

I did.

“Alpha Darius Blackmoor,” he continued. “Stand before your fated mate.”

Darius stepped forward with slow, controlled confidence. When he stopped in front of me, I lifted my eyes to his face.

He did not look at me. Not really.

His gaze skimmed over me as if I were air. As if the bond burning in my chest meant nothing at all.

Cold spread through me, sharp and sudden.

“The Moon has revealed your fated mate,” Elder Rowan declared, his voice echoing through the clearing. “Do you accept the bond and claim Elara Moonfall as your Luna?”

The world stopped.

My lungs burned as I held my breath. My wolf pressed forward inside me, trembling with fragile hope.

Darius finally met my eyes. There was nothing in them.

No warmth.

No recognition.

No bond.

“I do not.”

The words fell like an execution. For one heartbeat, the clearing remained frozen.

Then everything shattered.

Gasps exploded. Laughter followed, sharp, ugly, cruel.

Pain tore through my chest as something inside me snapped. I screamed and dropped to my knees, the bond ripping away like living flesh being torn from my soul.

My wolf howled. Blood filled my mouth. I tasted iron as my body shook violently, rejection burning through every vein.

Rejected. Before the Moon. Before the pack. Forever.

“She really thought she had a chance.”

“Pathetic.”

“An omega dreaming of being Luna.”

The voices blurred together.

“You understand the cost,” Elder Rowan said grimly. “A rejection under the full moon cannot be undone.”

“I know,” Darius replied. Relief softened his voice.

That sound destroyed something final inside me.

“Then who do you choose?” Rowan asked.

I lifted my head just in time to see Lyra Stormborn step forward.

She was everything I was not, tall, radiant, confident. Her silver hair caught the moonlight as if the Moon itself favored her. She wore power like jewelry, effortless and admired.

She slid her hand into Darius’s like it belonged there.

“I choose Lyra Stormborn as my Luna,” Darius announced.

The clearing erupted.

Cheers. Howls. Approval.

Wolves bowed. Voices rose in celebration. Everyone was rejoicing.

Everyone except me.

Vera stood rigid at the edge of the crowd, her face pale with fury and helplessness.

Lyra leaned close to Darius, her lips curving as she glanced at me. “You made the right choice,” she murmured, just loud enough for me to hear.

Something inside me went numb.

Elder Rowan struck his staff once more. “It is done.”

Just like that, my life ended. I forced myself to stand. My chest burned, my legs shook, but I turned to leave.

“Elara Moonfall.”

I stopped.

Two guards stepped in front of me, blocking my path. Beyond them stood the Council. Their expressions were carved from stone.

At the center sat Councilor Malrec Thorn, thin-lipped, hawk-eyed, his fingers heavy with gold rings. He watched me the way one might watch a problem that needed removing.

“Come with us,” he said mildly.

The council hall was warm, thick with torch smoke and polished stone, but I couldn’t stop shaking.

“Your rejection weakens the pack,” Elder Rowan said calmly, as if discussing weather. “It creates imbalance.”

I laughed bitterly. “Sorry my pain is inconvenient.”

“Silence, omega,” Malrec snapped, his voice sharp with disgust. “You should be grateful we’re finding use for you.”

Rowan continued, “Silverclaw owes a debt. A political one.”

Cold dread crept into my bones. “To whom?”

“The Northern Lycan Dominion.”

The world tilted.

The Lycan King.

“No,” I whispered.

“The debt will be paid,” Rowan said. “With you.”

Understanding hit like a blade. “You’re selling me.”

“You will be delivered,” Malrec corrected smoothly.

My legs gave out. I collapsed to the stone floor, rejection still burning like an open wound.

Rejected. Discarded. Sold.

“The Lycan King arrives at dawn,” Rowan added. “Prepare her.”

A deep horn sounded in the distance, low, powerful, ancient. The stone beneath us vibrated.

Every wolf in the hall bowed instinctively. Fear crawled up my spine. But beneath the pain… beneath the humiliation…

Something stirred.

Awake.

Ancient.

Unforgiving.

They thought they had broken me.

They had just sent me to King Kael Varyn, the ruler wolves feared to name, the king whose shadow bent borders and bloodlines alike.

And fate never forgave those who tried to own what already belonged to a king.