The Rogue Luna's Vengeance

The chains were too tight.

Aria's wrists bled beneath the silver cuffs, the metal biting into her skin like a predator that wouldn't let go. Each step forward on the cold marble floor echoed through the Bloodmoon Pack's ceremonial hall-once her place of honor, now her place of judgment.

She'd walked down this same aisle before, draped in white, hand-in-hand with the Alpha everyone feared and she had loved.

Now, they paraded her like a criminal before her pack-her people-none of whom met her eyes.

Her breath caught as her gaze swept across the faces in the room: warriors she'd trained beside, elders she'd healed, pups she'd comforted after nightmares. All now sat in a cold, judgmental silence. Not a single whisper rose in her defense. Not even when her bare feet slipped on bloodstained stone.

It was her blood.

It had started three days ago. A false report. A missing patrol. And somehow, it all pointed to her. Spying for rogues. Treason. A betrayal no one had bothered to verify-because they wanted it to be true. Because the truth would be harder to accept.

She looked up to the dais.

There he was.

Alpha Damien Blackthorn.

Her mate.

Her husband.

Her executioner.

He sat upon the high stone chair, black uniform perfectly buttoned, his expression carved in ice. The scar on his left cheek-a gift from a battle they'd won together-was the only reminder of the man she once knew.

"You may speak," his voice rang out across the room. Cold. Formal. As if she were a stranger.

Aria swallowed, trying to find her voice. Her lips were cracked, her throat dry, but the truth burned behind her eyes.

"I didn't betray you."

Silence.

"I would never endanger this pack. Never." Her voice shook with restraint. "You know me, Damien. You know me."

His jaw clenched. For the briefest moment, something flickered in his eyes. Pain. Doubt. But then it vanished, like everything else between them.

"You were found with a rogue's message seal in your quarters," he said. "Signed in your hand."

"It wasn't mine. I didn't write it. Someone-"

"You were the last to see the missing patrol alive."

"I-because they were injured! I brought them to the healer, you can ask-"

"She claims she never saw them. Only you."

"She's lying!" Aria shouted, voice cracking from raw desperation. "Why would I-?"

"Because the patrol was found dead," Damien said softly. "And one of them... was your cousin."

The air left her lungs.

"My cousin...?" she whispered. "That's why-"

"Do you deny your blood ties to rogue bloodlines? To her?"

"Yes!" Her voice rang with disbelief. "No-I mean, yes she's my cousin. But that doesn't mean-"

"Enough." Damien stood slowly. The room tensed as the Alpha descended the steps.

He came to a stop in front of her.

Up close, she could see the storm behind his eyes. Not anger. Not even disgust.

Guilt.

"You are hereby stripped of your title as Luna of the Bloodmoon Pack," he said. "By the decree of the council, and the Moonstone Laws, you are to be exiled. Effective now."

Aria's knees buckled.

"No," she breathed. "You're not doing this. Damien-"

"You will be escorted beyond the northern border," he continued. "You will not be allowed to return. If you do, you will be hunted down as a rogue and executed on sight."

She stared at him, eyes wide, mouth open. Not at the words. But the way he said them.

Like he didn't care.

Like she didn't matter.

"I'm carrying your child."

The words dropped like a stone in a still lake.

Damien froze.

His eyes snapped to hers.

The room gasped in unison.

Aria felt the room tilt around her, but she didn't blink.

"I'm carrying your child," she said again. "And you're sending us both to die."

For the first time in days, the Alpha faltered.

But he didn't speak. Didn't step back. Didn't reach for her. And that silence-his silence-was the real betrayal.

The guards grabbed her arms.

She screamed.

Fought.

Bit one of them.

But Damien didn't stop them.

Not even when her eyes filled with tears. Not even when she cried out his name.

"DAMIEN!"

The forest was freezing.

Night had fallen like a death shroud by the time they reached the edge of the border. Her body ached, her skin bruised, her stomach twisted in agony-not just from the cold, or the fear, or the pain.

But from the tiny heartbeat pulsing within her.

Her baby.

She hadn't been sure until the chains came off. Until her wolf had stirred weakly inside her and whispered the truth.

The guards shoved her to her knees.

"No further," one said.

Aria coughed, spitting blood on the snow.

"I hope you choke on your lies," she rasped, glaring up at them. "All of you."

The guards turned without a word. She wasn't worth a response.

They walked back toward the woods, leaving her alone at the edge of exile.

Alone.

Pregnant.

Broken.

A rogue.

She didn't cry.

Not until they were gone.

Not until the trees swallowed them.

Then, with no one left to witness her disgrace, Aria fell forward onto her hands and knees and screamed into the snow.

She almost died that night.

Not from wolves.

Not from hunger.

But from cold. The kind of cold that slips into your bones and tells you that sleep would feel good. That closing your eyes wouldn't be so bad.

But she didn't sleep.

Because a spark-small, barely there-fluttered in her belly. A heartbeat. A reminder.

She had to survive.

Not for herself.

But for him. For the life inside her. For the vengeance that had already started to take root in her soul.

Aria didn't die in that snow.

She was reborn.

Three Years Later

The rogue camps knew her name.

She was no longer Aria of Bloodmoon.

No longer the Luna of anyone.

Now, they called her something else:

The Rogue Queen.

She stood atop a rocky ledge, the wind howling around her, her cloak snapping like a war banner behind her. Below, dozens of rogue wolves gathered in the clearing-packs that had never united before. Wolves that had hated one another now stood shoulder-to-shoulder.

Waiting.

Watching.

She raised her hand, her palm glowing faintly under the moonlight.

"This is not a war for revenge," she called out. "This is a war for freedom."

They roared their agreement.

She let her eyes sweep over them-ragged wolves with nothing left to lose. Just like her.

Except she had one thing left.

One thing to protect.

She turned toward the small figure standing beside her-his silver eyes glowing in the dark.

Her son.

Caleb.

The boy born of betrayal. Born of pain. Born of love.

The prophecy they would all soon learn to fear.