The Luna He Rejected Is The Millennium Wolf

Sienna’s POV

Today was my Luna coronation. The Silver Fang Pack had waited months for it, but something felt off.

I stood on the balcony and watched the thousands of wolves gathered in the courtyard below, their torches looking like a sea of fallen stars against the dark horizon of the forest. For a second, I let myself believe in the warmth—I closed my eyes and breathed in the night air, trying to find the peace I had waited for.

Lucas had promised me this day since we were children, spending years telling me I was his only anchor, his only reason for leading. I wanted to believe him—I needed to believe him, because without him, I had nothing left in this world.

I touched the heavy silk of my gown—the fabric was soft and expensive, but my hands remained cold. The material felt like a shroud rather than a ceremonial dress, and the cheering from the courtyard sounded muffled, as if it were coming from deep underwater. It felt like the world was celebrating a girl who did not actually exist.

Then, a sound drifted from the shadows of our private suite.

It was a wet and rhythmic sound—skin hit skin in a way that made the hair on my arms stand up.

I did not run, nor did I scream, moving toward the bedroom door with a numbness that made my legs feel heavy. Every step felt like walking through deep mud, slow and exhausting, while the air smelled of cedar and something sweet—Ivy’s perfume, which was already in our bedroom.

Ivy was there—my stepsister had her fingers buried in the black hair of my mate as she pressed against him in the dark, her back arched, breathless with a victory I had not seen coming.

“Remind me,” she breathed against his neck, “tell me whose mark really matters.”

“You know it is yours,” Lucas muttered.

His voice was not emotional, but rather a cold statement of ownership—the same voice he used when he discussed pack boundaries or hunting rights with the elders. There was no love in it, only a deep and dark intent that made my blood run cold.

I hit the doorframe with my shoulder—the wood was solid, but the floor seemed to fall away as my lungs tightened until each breath became jagged. I waited for him to push her away, waited for him to look at me and tell me it was a trick or a nightmare—I waited for the man I knew to return and save me from the sight.

But Lucas did not stop, locking his hands around her waist and pulling her closer as he looked at her like he was starving. He looked at her with a hunger he had never shown me in all the years we spent together.

My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird, and my ears rang with a high noise that drowned out the music of the party outside. All the years of him shielding me from bullies at the academy felt like a lie, every memory turning to poison spreading through my blood.

He had not been protecting me—he had been preparing me for this moment of total destruction.

I staggered back, my legs shaking so violently I had to grab the wall to stay upright. I did not want to cry, but the tears moved hot and slow down my face anyway, burning my skin as they fell and marking the end of my innocence.

Everything I had survived came rushing back in a wave of heat—my mother’s death, which Morrigan told me was for the best while telling me to be grateful I still had a roof, and my father being framed and cast out into the wilderness. It was all supposed to lead to this day, leading to safety and a home where I could finally rest.

Instead, the disappointment tasted like cold ash as I sobbed once, a jagged sound that tore through the quiet room and echoed against the high ceilings.

I don't know how long I lay there before the door creaked open.

Lucas walked in without looking at me, stripping off his ceremonial jacket and tossing it onto a chair. He kept his eyes on the rug, as if I were a ghost he was trying to ignore—he looked bored, looking like he had just finished a long day of manual labor rather than a betrayal that broke my soul.

“You are still up,” he said, his voice flat and empty.

“I saw you,” I whispered, my voice a thin and broken thing. “In there. With her. Lucas, why?”

He finally looked up, his eyes bloodshot and hard—there was no regret there, only a tired anger.

“Drop it, Sienna,” he snapped, “the ceremony was a chore, and I do not have the energy for your dramatics tonight.”

“A chore?” The air left my lungs. “Lucas, I thought tonight was ours.”

That was my mistake—thinking the Luna coronation meant he saw me as his wife. To him, it was paperwork, a title to assign and nothing more.

“I am finished with looking at you, Sienna. I, Lucas of the Silver Fang, reject you. You are not my Luna.”

The bond did not just break, but snapped like a dry branch in a winter storm.

The mark on my neck turned into a line of white fire, and I could not scream because the air was gone from the room. I fell, my knees hitting the stone floor with a thud that vibrated in my teeth.

Lucas watched me struggle on the floor, but he did not reach out to help, nor did he even flinch at the sound of my body hitting the stone.

“I will tell the council tomorrow,” he said, sounding like he was talking about the weather. “You will keep the title for the cameras because people need a face to look at during the transition, but you are just a puppet now.”

“Why?” I managed to choke out. “Lucas, please. I loved you.”

Lucas leaned down until his face was inches from mine—cedar clung to his skin, and I could also smell Ivy.

“Because you are a dead end, Sienna. You are a broken wolf who cannot give me a strong heir, but your essence will keep the son Ivy carries strong.”

“Ivy?” I whispered.

A knock sounded on the door where Ivy was standing, and she was not hiding anymore. She was wearing a silk robe that belonged to the Luna of the pack, and she looked at me on the floor and smiled—her reddish hair caught the light of the fire and looked like drying blood.

I hated her, hating every bruise her mother had ever given me, and I hated that she was standing where I was supposed to be.

“Get out,” I tried to push myself up, though my arms were trembling and weak. “How could you do this?”

“Quiet, Sienna,” Lucas barked.

Alpha Command.

The weight hit my shoulders like a physical blow, freezing my muscles instantly. I was pinned to the floor, unable to even twitch a finger, my face pressed against the cold stone as dust coated my cheek.

“Watch your mouth when you speak to my Luna,” Lucas growled.

The weight pinned me to stone—I could not blink, could not breathe against the command. Ivy’s nails dug into my jaw, forcing my eyes to hers.

“You feel it?” she whispered. "Is the drain already starting? Your precious Millennium blood, waking up for me.”

I did not understand and could not ask, the command holding my throat locked.

Morrigan stepped from the shadows behind them, my stepmother looking down at me with cold and calculating eyes—she looked like a scientist examining a bug she intended to crush.

“Enough talking,” Morrigan said. “Take her to the basement—we need to begin the siphoning before dawn, while the moon is in the right position.”

The world tilted—I did not see the hand that hit me, the world just going dark. The last thing I felt was the vibration of the floor as Lucas walked away, and the last thing I smelled was the cedar on his skin.

Then, nothing—the cold dark waited, and I was no longer a bride, but a battery.