Chapter 3 Summoned to the court

She was the daughter of a beta, yet the most despised. Despite her beauty and kind heart, she was incomplete. At twenty, she still hadn't met her wolf.

Fate bound her to Alpha Floyd, but instead of cherishing her, he loathed her for what she lacked. Rejection should have been inevitable, yet for reasons known only to him, he kept her.

Left at the mercy of the palace wolves, including the lowest ranked omegas, cruelty became her closest companion. She recognized its voice, its scent, its very essence.

Her father, once the pack's esteemed beta, could have defended her, but his disdain ran deeper than the Alpha's. As for her mother, she bore only regret, ashamed of the daughter she saw as a disgrace.

In the entire Broln Pack, she was the only one beyond sixteen without a wolf. Duanne clung to the hope that she was merely a late bloomer, but even he knew it was more wishful thinking than truth.

Barred from her parents' home and with nowhere else to go, she endured the torment of the royal house. As long as she had food to eat and a roof over her head, she convinced herself it was enough.

She couldn't leave, becoming a rogue meant a fate worse than death.

Now, at the peak of the ceremony, Alpha Denovan placed his daughter's hand in Floyd's, sealing their union. She was officially named the Luna of the Broln Pack.

Then came the moment she dreaded most, the part of the ceremony where every wolf transformed, bowing in reverence to their Alpha and Luna.

The moment that would bare her weakness to the entire pack.

At the beta's command, the air filled with the sickening sound of bones snapping and fabric tearing as the pack shifted.

Alora dropped to her knees, desperate to make herself invisible, to conceal the cruel truth of her existence. But then, a sharp pain hammered in her skull, the world spun around her, and a shiver crawled down her spine.

A dark, looming shadow stretched over her.

Floyd, in his wolf form, prowled through the crowd, his piercing gaze sweeping over the gathered wolves. His amber eyes burned with fury.

Then came the howls, rising from every corner, a haunting melody of submission and celebration.

Floyd's powerful wolf surged forward, his Luna, a sleek brown furred wolf, moving in perfect harmony beside him. Behind them, the other alphas and their entourages followed in a regal procession.

The rest of the pack joined in, their massive forms trotting around in elation, their howls blending in a deafening chorus to welcome their new Luna.

But Alora remained frozen, still kneeling, her pulse drumming in her ears.

The shadow had not moved. It was still there, towering over her.

Her eyes clenched shut as cold sweat beaded on her skin. Then suddenly, she was weightless.

A powerful force lifted her off the ground, and a rush of wind slammed against her face.

Was she... flying?

She couldn't tell. Fear kept her eyes sealed tight, her body rigid with uncertainty.

Then, just as suddenly as it began, it was over. A soft surface cradled her, the familiar scent of her tiny room grounding her. Slowly, she forced her eyes open.

She was on her bed.

And beside her, looming, massive, and unmistakable, was Moro.

Duanne's wolf.

The shadow from the hall.

Realization struck like a bolt of lightning. Moro had shielded her, had saved her from disgrace.

Duanne stood above her, his presence a silent barrier against the cruelty of the world.

Tears burned in her eyes as gratitude swelled in her chest. Scrambling off the bed, she turned to the large wolf, her lips curving into the first true smile in what felt like an eternity.

Moro whined softly, his tail flicking before he turned and disappeared into the night.

"Thank you, cousin," she whispered, voice thick with emotion.

Alora curled onto her bed, desperate for the escape of sleep, but peace was a luxury she was never granted.

"Piggy!!"

The familiar insult cut through the silence like a blade.

Her old wooden door, the only frail barrier between her and the cruel world outside, creaked violently as it was shoved open. Her heart slammed against her ribs.

"The Alpha demands your presence!"

An omega girl stood in the doorway, her face twisted in disgust. Without warning, a worn-out shoe flew through the air, hitting Alora's arm before landing on the floor with a dull thud. The girl scoffed and disappeared into the darkness.

Alora remained still for a moment, dread coiling in her stomach. The Alpha never summoned her unless he intended to humiliate, taunt, or punish her.

Her head throbbed as anxiety tightened its grip, but she had no choice. Moving on autopilot, she slid into her tattered flip-flops and made her way to the court.

With every step, her fingers twitched, her breath shallowed. The closer she got, the heavier the weight on her chest grew.

Finally, she stood before the massive metal doors. Her trembling hand pressed against her chest, feeling the erratic rise and fall of her breath.

What awaited her inside?

Steeling herself, she drew in a shaky breath and stepped forward.

Floyd lounged on the royal sofa, but something was different. His Luna sat beside him, their hands intertwined, a silent display of unity.

The moment the woman's eyes landed on Alora, something shifted. A jolt of recognition surged through her veins.

"She's his mate."

The bond between them was undeniable, stronger than the fragile thread she, the Luna shared with him. This woman was his first, his true mate.

But as she took in Alora's ragged appearance, a wave of smug relief washed over her. If Floyd had ever truly wanted her, she would not look like this. If he valued her, she would be standing beside him as his Luna, not discarded like an afterthought. Even the lowest omegas were better kept than her.

Alora forced herself to speak, her voice barely steady. "You sent for me, my Alpha."

The weight of his gaze pinned her in place, dark and unreadable. Her breath quickened, each inhale loud in her ears.

Cold fingers of dread slithered down her spine as his eyes bore into her-merciless, calculating.