The Alpha's Forgotten Moonstone Princess

CHAPTER 1:

POV: Elara

The crinkle of the paper in my coat pocket was the sweetest sound I had ever heard. It was my pregnancy report, a thin slip of paper that carried the weight of my entire future.

Three years. For three years, I had lived as Silas Silverfang’s shadow. I was the "orphan rogue" he had taken as a mate, the girl who had spent every day shrinking herself, silencing her own voice, and praying for a sign that I was more than just a placeholder in his grand Alpha life. Now, I finally had it. A fated heir.

I hailed a cab to The Obsidian Lounge, my heart dancing a frantic, happy rhythm. I could almost picture the look on Silas’s face, the way his cold, flinty eyes would surely soften when I told him he was going to be a father.

But as I stepped out onto the rain-slicked pavement and approached the high-end bar, my feet froze.

The front of the lounge was a massive wall of floor-to-ceiling glass. It was meant to show off the luxury inside, but for me, it became a window into my own execution.

There he was. Silas Silverfang. He sat in the center of a velvet booth, looking every bit the ruthless Alpha King. And leaning against him, her fingers draped possessively over his shoulder, was Genevieve.

My breath hitched. Genevieve, the Beta’s daughter. The woman who had fled the pack years ago the moment Silas was forced to marry me. She was back, and she looked like she had never left his side. It was her welcome-back party, and the air inside the bar was thick with celebration.

Silas remained as indifferent as always, his expression a mask of stone, but he didn't move. He allowed her to press against him, allowed her perfume to coat his skin a closeness he hadn't offered me in months.

I stood paralyzed behind the glass, a ghost haunting my own marriage.

"Look at them," a voice erupted from inside, loud enough to pierce through the heavy doors as a guest raised a glass. "A true Alpha and his real match! Genevieve, the pack hasn't felt right without you."

"To the perfect pair!" someone else cheered, and the room erupted in applause.

I watched as a high-ranking warrior leaned in, laughing. "Silas, man, we all heard the stories. We know the rogue chased you until you finally gave in. It’s a tragedy, really. No matter how you treat her—even with Genevieve back in your arms we all know Elara won't care. She’ll just be at home, waiting to wag her tail when you walk in."

The laughter that followed was a jagged blade, twisting in my gut. I waited for Silas to growl. I waited for him to snap that I was his wife, his fated mate, and that Genevieve was a guest.

But Silas didn't deny it.

He took a slow sip of his whiskey, his eyes cold and distant.

"Someone told me," a woman near the booth whispered loudly, leaning toward Genevieve with a smirk, "that the only reason Silas even married that wolfless rogue was because children born from fated mates are the strongest. It’s all about the bloodline, isn't it, Alpha?"

Silas set his glass down with a definitive clink. He didn't look at the window. He didn't see me shattering on the other side of the glass.

"A fated mate is a biological necessity for a strong pack," Silas admitted, his voice cold and devoid of a single drop of warmth. He tilted his head toward Genevieve, his lip curling into a mocking sliver of a smile. "Elara is a rogue. She was never worthy to be my Luna, and she certainly isn't worthy to be the mother of my child. She is a means to an end."

The world stopped.

I froze at the door, the pregnancy report in my pocket suddenly feeling like a shard of ice stabbing into my hip.

Inside, the party continued. A few people noticed me standing there in the rain my hair damp, my eyes wide with a pain so deep it felt like death. But they didn't care. They didn't stop. They simply looked back at Silas and continued making their offensive jokes, laughing at the "pitiful rogue" who loved her husband too much to ever leave.

I looked at Silas one last time. He knew I was there. I saw his eyes flicker toward the glass for a heartbeat, but he didn't move. He didn't come for me. He stayed in the warmth, with his ex-girlfriend, leaving me alone in the dark.

I had spent three years losing myself to please him. And in one sentence, he had turned my greatest joy into my deepest shame.

I wasn't a wife. I was a breeding animal.

I turned and ran, the rain finally swallowing my sobs.