Forsaken for a Fake: The True Luna's Revenge

My husband, Alpha Kaeden, once looked at me with adoration. But after he brought Clemmie home, his eyes turned cold, glazed over by the "herbal tea" she fed him.

Now, I lay chained to a steel table in the dungeon, the smell of my own burning flesh filling the air.

Kaeden stood over me, indifferent to my screams. He ordered the guards to electrocute me through silver cuffs-the poison of our kind-even though he knew I was carrying his pup.

But torture wasn't the end goal. I froze when I heard the doctor's question.

"The transplant carries risks, Alpha. Taking a heart from a living donor..."

Clemmie didn't just want my husband; she wanted my heart to cure her "sickness" and steal my White Wolf power.

I waited for Kaeden to refuse. Instead, he rubbed his temples and delivered my death sentence.

"Harvest the heart. Dispose of the rest."

"And the fetus?" the doctor asked.

"Incinerate it."

Those words killed me faster than the silver. I died on the operating table that night, my heart flatlining for three minutes to stage my death.

Kaeden thinks I am ash in a jar. He thinks he saved his mistress.

But when I opened my eyes in the safe house, they weren't brown anymore. They were glowing silver.

Beside me, my daughter slept, alive and radiating ancient power.

The weak Luna is dead. The White Wolf has risen.

And I am going home to take back my pack.

Chapter 1

POV: Daria

The air in the dungeon didn't smell like damp earth or rot. It smelled like burning sugar and metallic death. It was the scent of Wolfsbane, the purple flower that could paralyze a werewolf's nerves and strip away our strength.

I lay on the cold steel table, gasping for air. My wrists were bound by cuffs that weren't just iron. They were plated with silver.

Silver is the bane of our existence. To a human, it is just jewelry. To a werewolf, it is acid. It burns on contact, stopping our supernatural healing cells from knitting our flesh back together.

"Please," I whispered. My throat felt like I had swallowed glass. "Kaeden, please."

The heavy iron door creaked open. Two figures stepped into the dim light.

First came Alpha Kaeden. He was tall, his shoulders broad enough to carry the weight of the entire Moonstone Pack. But his eyes, usually a warm amber that made me feel safe, were glazed over, distant and cold.

Behind him stood Clemmie. She wore a white silk dress that looked ridiculous in a torture chamber. She clung to Kaeden's arm, looking at me with wide, fearful eyes. But I saw the smirk twitching at the corner of her lips.

"She still denies it?" Kaeden asked, his voice flat, sounding more exhausted than angry.

"She's stubborn, my love," Clemmie whispered, her hand tightening on his bicep. "The guards said she was screaming threats against me. Against us."

Kaeden rubbed his temples as if fighting a headache. He didn't look at me with rage, but with a chilling indifference.

"Secure her," Kaeden muttered to the guard. "If she won't tell the truth about the pregnancy stunt, maybe a night in the silver will sober her up."

My jaw snapped shut. My tongue felt like a stone in my mouth. I wanted to scream, to tell him about the baby, but the Command held me paralyzed.

"You posted it," Kaeden said, staring at the wall rather than my face. "You posted that you are pregnant on the pack forum. You knew Clemmie cannot conceive. You did it to mock her."

"Kaeden, don't be too harsh," Clemmie whimpered, pressing her face into his bicep. "Maybe... maybe Daria just wanted attention. Even if it breaks my heart to see her lie about carrying your pup."

She looked up at him, tears shimmering in her eyes. "My heart is so weak, Kaeden. The doctor said stress could kill me."

Kaeden flinched. The mention of her heart seemed to trigger something programmed deep in his mind.

"I won't let her stress you," Kaeden said mechanically.

He nodded to the executioner. "Turn it on. Low voltage. Just enough to keep her quiet."

The executioner hesitated. "Alpha, the voltage... if she is pregnant..."

"She's lying!" Clemmie shrieked, then covered her mouth, feigning shock. "I mean... she must be. Right, Kaeden?"

"Do it," Kaeden ordered, his eyes squeezing shut.

The switch was thrown.

The table beneath me hummed. Then, agony exploded.

It wasn't just electricity. The current ran through the silver cuffs, driving the burning metal essence straight into my bloodstream. My body arched violently against the restraints.

My pup!

My Inner Wolf, the spirit of the beast that lives within every shifter, woke up screaming. She didn't howl for me. She howled for the tiny spark of life in my womb.

Alpha! Save the pup! The pup is dying! my wolf cried out through the Mind-Link.

The Mind-Link is the telepathic web that connects every member of the pack. Usually, an Alpha can hear the distress of his pack members. He should have felt my wolf's terror.

But Kaeden's mental wall was up. It felt thick, unnatural, like a dam built of fog.

"Stop acting!" Clemmie shouted over the crackle of electricity, her voice losing its sweetness. "Clemmie needs a stress-free environment. You are a cancer to this pack, Daria."

The current stopped. I slumped back, smoke rising from my wrists. The smell of my own burnt flesh filled the room.

Blood.

I felt a warm, wet sensation between my legs.

"No," I croaked, the Command fading slightly as Kaeden's focus shifted. "My baby..."

Clemmie walked closer. She leaned down, pretending to check on me. Her voice was a whisper, too low for Kaeden to hear, but loud enough for my sensitive wolf hearing.

"He doesn't want it, Daria," she hissed. "And soon, he won't have you, either."

She straightened up and turned to Kaeden. "Alpha, I feel faint. Her aura... it's so toxic."

Kaeden scooped her up into his arms as if she were made of glass. He didn't even look at the blood pooling on the metal table.

"Let her rot here tonight," Kaeden ordered the guard. "If she survives the silver, we will deal with her tomorrow."

They walked out. The heavy door slammed shut.

I lay alone in the dark. The silver burns throbbed in rhythm with my failing heart. I tried to summon my healing ability, but the silver suppressed it. My wolf was whimpering, curling into a ball in the back of my mind, fading into silence.

As the cold seeped into my bones, I realized the electricity hadn't killed me.

But the heartbreak might.

POV: Daria

Pain has a way of warping time. As I lay in the puddle of my own blood and amniotic fluid, memories flickered like a broken movie reel.

I remembered the day I met Kaeden.

It was the Recognition.

For werewolves, finding a mate isn't about dating or compatibility. It is biological destiny ordained by the Moon Goddess. When you meet your Fated Mate, your senses explode.

I remembered the scent. It hit me across a crowded ballroom-fresh pine needles crushed under heavy rain, mixed with the smoky warmth of a wood fire. It was the best thing I had ever smelled.

Then came the spark. When his hand brushed mine, a jolt of static electricity, stronger than any household shock, zipped up my arm. My Inner Wolf had stood up on her hind legs and roared one word: Mine.

We were happy. For two years, we were the perfect couple.

Then Clemmie arrived.

She didn't have a scent. Or rather, she smelled like cloying vanilla perfume that masked everything else. She wasn't his mate. But she had something else.

Witchcraft.

I didn't have proof, but I knew. She gave him "herbal teas" for his stress. Slowly, Kaeden changed. He stopped reaching for me in the night. He started saying that the Moon Goddess had made a mistake. That Clemmie was his true soulmate, and I was just a genetic error.

A "defect." That's what he called me.

The defect is bleeding out, I thought bitterly, staring at the ceiling of the dungeon.

Voices drifted from the hallway. My hearing was fading, but the adrenaline of terror sharpened it for one last moment.

"Is the donor ready?" It was a man's voice. Clinical. Cold.

"She is prepped," Kaeden's voice replied. He sounded impatient, his words slurring slightly. "Just get it done. Clemmie is deteriorating fast."

"The transplant carries risks, Alpha," the doctor said. "Taking a heart from a living donor... especially a Luna..."

"She's not a Luna," Clemmie cut in, her voice sharp. "And the donor list is too long, Kaeden. You said you'd do anything to save me."

"Anything," Kaeden echoed, sounding like a man talking in his sleep.

"Her blood work matches mine, Kaeden," Clemmie pressed, her voice dropping to a hypnotic purr. "It's almost like fate. Her heart is the only one strong enough. If you love me, you'll let the doctor do his job."

I froze.

They didn't just want me dead. They wanted my heart.

Why me? There were thousands of wolves. Why did Clemmie need my heart specifically?

"The White Wolf bloodline is potent," the doctor murmured, his voice dropping so low I almost missed it. "Even if she is a recessive carrier, her organ will grant the recipient immense power. Miss Clemmie will not just be cured; she will be stronger than any female in the region."

White Wolf?

The legends spoke of the White Wolves-royalty among shifters, closest to the Goddess, capable of miracles. I had always healed fast, faster than the others, but I thought it was just luck.

"Do what is necessary," Kaeden murmured, rubbing his temples as if fighting a migraine. "Harvest the heart. Dispose of the rest."

"And the fetus?" the doctor asked.

"Incinerate it."

The words hit me harder than the Alpha Command.

He wasn't just misguided. He wasn't just drugged. He was a murderer. He had just signed the death warrant for his wife and his unborn child to please a woman who wanted to steal my strength.

Tears hot as lava slid down my temples.

I tried to move my fingers. I had to run. I had to fight.

But the silver cuffs held tight. My body was heavy, like it was filled with lead. My Inner Wolf was too weak to take control.

The door handle began to turn.

Goddess, I prayed, closing my eyes. If you are real... curse him. Curse him for eternity.

The door opened.

But it wasn't the doctor.

POV: Alois

I hacked the electronic lock on the dungeon door in fourteen seconds.

As a former Gamma-the tactician and strategist of the pack-I knew the security protocols better than the Alpha himself. I had been demoted to the IT department because Clemmie didn't like the way I looked at her.

She was right to be suspicious. I knew a snake when I saw one.

The door hissed open. I sprayed a cloud of "Scent Mask" aerosol over myself. It smelled like chemically synthesized mud and ozone, designed to hide a wolf's natural odor from other predators.

I stepped inside and nearly retched.

The smell of blood was overwhelming.

"Luna," I whispered.

Daria lay on the table. She looked like a broken doll. Her skin was pale, almost translucent, contrasting with the dark red stains soaking the metal beneath her.

I rushed forward, pulling a lockpick from my pocket. My hands shook. Not from fear, but from rage.

I remembered two years ago. I was dying from a Rogue bite that had gone septic. The healers had given up. Daria had come to the infirmary. She sat by my bed for three nights, wiping my fevered brow. She even gave me her own blood for a transfusion when the supplies ran low.

Her blood had burned like fire in my veins, but it healed me in hours.

I owed her my life.

"Alois?" Her voice was a cracked whisper. Her eyes fluttered open. They were glazed with pain.

"I've got you," I said, working the pick into the silver cuffs. "Hold on."

Click.

The cuff sprang open. I freed her hands and feet. The burns on her wrists were deep, the flesh raw and angry.

I scooped her up into my arms. She weighed nothing. It felt like carrying a ghost.

"Leave me," she murmured, her head lolling against my chest. "He will kill you."

"Let him try," I growled.

I carried her out of the cell, moving silently through the corridors. The pack house was quiet. Most of the warriors were at the border, distracted by a fake Rogue sighting I had generated in the system ten minutes ago.

We reached the underground garage. My modified SUV was waiting, the engine idling silently.

I opened the back door and laid Daria gently on the seat. She was shivering violently. Shock was setting in.

"Stay with me, Daria," I said. "We're almost out."

I jumped into the driver's seat and gunned the engine. The tires squealed on the concrete as we shot toward the exit ramp.

Suddenly, a figure stepped out from the shadows, blocking the exit.

It was Marcus, the Beta. The Alpha's second-in-command.

He stood with his arms crossed, his massive frame filling the lane. His nose twitched.

He couldn't smell Daria because of the blood loss and the silver in her system suppressing her wolf. He couldn't smell me because of the masking spray.

But he could smell the fear.

I slammed on the brakes, the car skidding to a halt inches from his knees.

Marcus walked to the driver's side window. He tapped on the glass.

My heart hammered against my ribs. If I shifted now, I would destroy the car and kill Daria. I had to bluff.

I rolled the window down two inches.

"In a hurry, IT boy?" Marcus asked, his eyes scanning the dark interior of the car.

"Server crash at the downtown office," I lied, keeping my voice steady. "Alpha Kaeden will skin me alive if the financial data is lost."

Marcus sniffed the air again. He frowned. "I smell... ozone. And something metallic."

"Cleaning supplies," I said. "Spilled some in the back."

Marcus leaned closer, his eyes narrowing. He looked at the backseat. Daria was covered by a blanket I had thrown over her, but a stray hand was visible.

"What's under the blanket?" Marcus asked, his voice dropping an octave.

I gripped the steering wheel, my knuckles turning white.

"Marcus," I said, dropping the act. "Look at me."

Marcus met my eyes. He saw the desperation there.

"You know what's happening upstairs," I whispered. "You know it's wrong. You have a daughter, Marcus. Would you let Kaeden carve her up for that witch?"

Marcus stiffened. His gaze flicked to the blanket, then back to the gate controls. He had always been loyal, but he wasn't blind. He hated Clemmie as much as I did.

He reached for the door handle, hesitated, and then pulled his hand back.