The Alpha kings rejected Luna

Alba's pov

I stood in the rain for two hours.

My wrists were tied behind my back with silver rope. It burned.

Silver did that to wolves. It didn’t kill you. It just made you weak. Made your knees shake. Made your wolf go silent in your head.

Every drop of rain that hit my skin felt like needles. Cold needles, sliding down my neck, into the thin fabric of the dress they forced me to wear. It was white. The dress of an accused.

The entire Nightfang Pack stood in a circle around me, watching.

Fifty, maybe sixty wolves. Under the grey sky, under the pouring rain. No one had an umbrella except for them.

Some of them used to call me sister.

Mara from the kitchens. She used to sneak me bread when my stepmother locked me out.

Derek, who I grew up fighting in the training yard.

Even old Mrs. Hale, who taught me how to read.

Now they called me traitor.

“Look at her,” someone whispered. “Still not crying.”

“As if she has any tears left,” another laughed. “Wolfless trash.”

Wolfless.

The word followed me like a shadow. For 23 years.

I lifted my eyes from the mud. The packhouse steps were in front of me. Black stone, slick with rain. And standing on the highest step, under a black umbrella, was him.

Alpha Kieran Nightfang.

My childhood mate.

He was 25 now. Broad shoulders. Dark hair plastered to his forehead. His white shirt was soaked through, but he didn’t care. He looked like the posters in the city. Like the alpha he was born to be.

Beside him, in white silk that somehow stayed dry, stood Veronica.

My stepsister.

Her hair was curled. Her makeup was perfect. Two guards held a crystal umbrella over her head like she was made of glass.

She caught me looking and smiled. Not a nice smile. The kind of smile you give a dog before you kick it.

“Pathetic,” she mouthed.

My father stood behind them. Beta Thomas Monroe. His head was down. He hadn’t looked at me once since they dragged me out of the basement at dawn.

Two hours. That’s how long they made me kneel here. For “reflection” before the trial.

My shoulders screamed. The silver rope dug deeper. I could feel blisters forming.

A memory hit me.

I was 8. I fell from the tree in the backyard. Broke my arm. I ran to my father, crying.

“Da, it hurts.”

He looked at me, then at Veronica, who was watching from the window.

“Stop being dramatic, Alba. Go to your room.”

I swallowed. The rain tasted like iron.

Kieran finally spoke. His voice carried across the courtyard, amplified by his alpha power. It made the air vibrate.

“Alba Monroe.”

My name had never sounded so ugly.

“You stand accused of three crimes against the Nightfang Pack.” He held up three fingers. “One. Theft. 2 million dollars missing from the pack treasury. Two. Treason. You fled to the human world 5 years ago without permission. Three. Lying. You have lived among us for 23 years pretending to be a wolf when you have no wolf.”

Each word was a stone.

Theft. I didn’t do it.

Treason. I ran because if I didn’t, Veronica would have killed me.

Lying. The one that hurts the most. Because it was true. And not true.

I opened my mouth. “I didn’t”

“Silence!” Veronica stepped forward. The guards moved with her. “You don’t get to speak until Alpha Kieran says you can.”

She turned to the crowd. “For years we’ve fed her. Clothed her. And this is how she repays us? By stealing and running?”

Boos. Hisses.

I remembered the night I ran. 5 years ago. I was 18. The night of my mating ceremony.

The hall was full of flowers. White roses. Kieran was supposed to claim me.

Instead he stood on the altar and said, “I, Alpha Kieran, reject Alba Monroe as my mate. My true mate stands beside me. Luna Veronica.”

The whole pack clapped.

I stood there in my white dress while my heart was ripped out.

Veronica took my hand and whispered, “You were never good enough.”

That night I ran. With 200 dollars and a bus ticket.

I came back because my father was sick. That’s what the letter said.

It was a lie.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Kieran asked. He sounded bored now. Like this was a waste of his time.

I could lie. I could beg.

But I was tired of begging.

“No,” I said. My voice was hoarse from the rain. “I don’t.”

More murmurs.

Kieran sighed like I was a disappointment. “Then as Alpha of Nightfang, I sentence you to.....”

The gates exploded.

Not metaphorically. The 10-foot iron gates of Nightfang Packhouse blew inward with a sound like thunder.

Everyone screamed. Wolves shifted on instinct.

Black SUVs rolled in. One. Two. Three. Ten. Twenty.

All of them had the same crest on the door. A crown over a wolf’s head.

The Royal Crest.

The rain seemed to pause.

The doors opened all at once.

And out stepped the Alpha King.

Ares Blackwood.

I had only seen him once before. At the Royal Summit when I was 16. He was 20 then and already terrifying.

He was worse now.

He was tall. 6'4 at least. Black suit, tailored. No umbrella. Rain ran down his face, down his jaw, and he didn’t blink. His hair was black, cut short. But it was his eyes that made my blood freeze.

Silver. Like molten metal. Like a storm.

He walked.

The entire pack parted for him without being told. Kieran straightened. Veronica’s smile dropped.

Ares didn’t look at anyone except me.

His gaze dragged over me. The wet dress. The silver ropes. The bruises on my knees from kneeling. The cut on my cheek that Veronica gave me last night.

His jaw ticked. Once.

He stopped in front of me. Close enough that I could smell him. Rain. Cedar. And something else. Power. Raw, dangerous power.

For a second, no one breathed.

Then he smiled. Slow. Dangerous.

“Interesting.”

His voice was low. Rough. Like he didn’t use it much.

He turned to the two guards still holding me. “Release her.”

They didn’t move.

“Now,” Ares said.

The word wasn’t loud. But the air in the courtyard dropped 10 degrees. My knees nearly gave out. Alpha command. Royal alpha command.

The guards let go immediately. The silver rope fell to the mud.

I rubbed my wrists. They were red and bleeding.

Ares held out his hand. Not to help me up. Just... there.

I stared at it.

Behind me, Kieran stepped forward. “She’s mine.”

The words were stupid. The same words he said 5 years ago.

Ares didn’t even look at him. His hand stayed out. Waiting.

“Was,” Ares said. He finally glanced at Kieran. And that one look made Kieran take a step back. “Now she’s mine to question. Unless you want to be questioned too, Alpha Kieran?”

Questioned. That was the polite word for what the Royal Court did to criminals.

Kieran’s face went red. “This is a Nightfang matter. You have no jurisdiction here.”

“I have jurisdiction everywhere,” Ares said simply. Then he looked back at me. “Come.”

My legs were shaking. From the cold. From the silver. From fear.

I could stay. Beg Kieran to be merciful. Let Veronica win again.

Or I could take his hand.

I put my hand in his.

His skin was warm. Too warm. His grip was firm but careful, like he was afraid he’d break me. He pulled me up. I swayed, and he caught me by the elbow.

“Can you walk?” he asked quietly. Only for me.

I nodded. I couldn’t speak.

He kept his hand on my elbow as he led me through the crowd. No one touched me. No one spoke.

We got to the lead SUV. The door was opened by another guard.

Inside it smelled like leather and rain and him.

I slid in. Ares followed and closed the door. The sound was final.

For a moment we just sat there. Rain hitting the roof.

Then he turned to me. Fully.

Up close, he was even more. The scar under his left eye. The way his suit strained over his shoulders. The faint scent of blood under the cedar.

“You’re bleeding,” he said. He reached out and, with two fingers, tilted my chin up to look at the cut on my cheek. His touch was light. Clinical.

It still made me shiver.

“Who did this?”

“Veronica,” I whispered.

He dropped his hand. “I see.”

The car started moving. Through the tinted window I could see Kieran shouting. I could see my father finally looking up, confused. I could see Veronica’s face twisted in rage.

We passed the gates. Passed the burning torches. Passed my old life.

“So,” Ares said. He leaned back. “Alba Monroe. Wolfless. Traitor. Thief.”

Each word was a knife.

“That’s what they call me,” I said.

“And what do you call yourself?”

I looked at my hands. At the rope burns. “Tired.”

Something flickered in his silver eyes.

The car was silent except for the rain.

After a minute, he spoke again. “I’m not here to save you, Miss Monroe.”

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“No. You didn’t.” He studied me. “I’m here because 12 she-wolves have gone missing in the last year. All of them labeled ‘wolfless’ or ‘weak’. All of them disappeared right before their 18th birthday. And all of them were last seen in packs connected to Nightfang.”

My blood went cold.

“What does that have to do with me?”

“You,” he said, “are number 13.”

The car hit a bump. I gripped the seat.

“I don’t understand.”

“You will,” Ares said. He pulled a file from the seat between us. Inside were photos. Girls. Young. Scared. All of them with the same hollow look I’d seen in the mirror.

“Someone is suppressing wolves. Experimenting on them. And I think Nightfang is involved.” He closed the file. “I need someone on the inside. Someone they think is broken.”

He looked at me.

“I need a contract Luna.”

The words hung in the air.

Contract Luna. A fake mate. A political position. Usually given to daughters of allied alphas.

Not to wolfless trash.

“Why me?” I asked.

“Because they rejected you,” Ares said simply. “Because you have nothing left to lose. And because,” he paused, “I don’t believe you’re wolfless.”

I jerked. “What?”

“Your scent,” he said. “It’s buried. Suppressed. But it’s there. Under the silver and the fear. There’s a wolf in you, Alba. A strong one.”

No one had ever said that to me.

Ever.

“6 months,” Ares continued. “You act as my Luna in public. You help me investigate. In return, I give you protection. Training. And when we find who did this to you... we make them pay.”

Revenge.

The word tasted sweet.

“And if I say no?”

“Then I drop you back at Nightfang and let Kieran decide your fate,” Ares said. No threat. Just fact. “The choice is yours.”

The car slowed. Ahead was a massive estate. Black gates. Blackwood Tower in the distance, lit up against the storm.

My old home was behind me. Burning, metaphorically.

My future was in front of me. With a king I didn’t know.

I thought of Veronica’s smile. Of Kieran’s rejection. Of 23 years of being called trash.

I straightened my back. The pain in my wrists was nothing compared to the fire starting in my chest.

“I accept,” I said.

Ares nodded once. “Good.”

The car stopped. A guard opened my door.

As I stepped out into the rain, Ares stepped out behind me. He shrugged off his suit jacket and draped it over my shoulders. It was heavy. Warm. Smelled like him.

Behind us, in the distance, I could have sworn I heard shouting. Nightfang Pack, realizing what they’d lost.

I didn’t look back.

Alpha King Ares fell into step beside me.

And for the first time in my life, I wasn’t walking alone.

I was walking into war.

And I was going to win.