Reborn Luna: Reject My Unwanted Alpha

Kaia POV:

A sharp shriek shattered the morning silence of my Mating Ceremony.

I snapped my head toward the sound just in time to see my cousin, Ferne Ferguson, hitch up her pristine skirts and fling herself into the freezing depths of the sacred lake.

Ice-cold water sprayed across the hem of my white silk gown.

Out in the dark water, Ferne thrashed, putting on a clumsy, rehearsed spectacle of drowning. I stood perfectly still on the bank, watching the violent ripples spread. The searing sunlight tore through the ancient cedar canopy, stinging my eyes, but the heat on my skin was real. The air in my lungs was real.

My throat still burned with the phantom agony of my past life-the suffocating smoke, the searing torment of being burned alive in silver fire under the crushing weight of false accusations.

It had all started on this exact day. In my previous life, Ferne's staged plunge into the lake had been the catalyst for my absolute ruin. Because of this very moment, I was stripped of my rightful title as Luna and forced into the humiliating role of a secondary mate. What followed was a nightmare of endless neglect. I was locked away, treated as nothing more than a vessel while they systematically drained my White Wolf bloodline dry to feed her ambitions.

But the Moon Goddess had granted me a second chance. I was back at the beginning, standing at the precipice of my destruction, and I refused to let history repeat itself.

My maid, Sadie Tucker, rushed to my side. She grabbed my arm with frantic hands, her breath catching in her throat.

"My Lady! Miss Ferne jumped! We have to help her!"

I reached over and closed my fingers around Sadie's wrist. My grip was firm and unyielding. Looking into her wide, loyal eyes, I shook my head once, silently commanding her to stay put.

Sadie froze, sensing the cold authority radiating from my touch, and stepped back into line behind me.

A murmur of panic swept through the gathered noble crowd. Deep within my chest, my dormant Inner Wolf let out a low, mocking growl at the pathetic theater playing out before us.

Bryce Mendoza sprinted down from the high ceremonial dais. He shoved startled elders aside, paying no heed to decorum, and leaped into the icy water.

The spray soaked his embroidered coat as he lunged forward, gathering Ferne's limp body against his chest. He swam toward the shallows, cradling her as though she were made of spun glass, his handsome face twisted with raw panic.

Bryce hauled her soaked form onto the muddy bank, his boots squelching heavily in the mire. He marched directly past me, not sparing me a single glance, treating the woman destined to be his Luna as nothing more than thin air.

Sadie took a furious step forward, her fists trembling at her sides. "How dare he-"

I raised a hand, pressing my palm lightly against the back of hers to anchor her. "Wait," I murmured under my breath. "The show has only just started."

Bryce dropped to his knees on the grass, frantically slapping Ferne's pale cheeks.

"Ferne! Ferne, wake up!" he shouted, his voice echoing over the whispering crowd. "Look at me!"

I took a slow, deliberate step forward until my shadow fell across the girl pretending to be on the brink of death.

"If she has truly drowned," I said, my voice carrying cleanly across the silent lawn, "you should summon a physician instead of screaming at a corpse."

Bryce snapped his head up, the veins in his neck bulging with rage. "Kaia! She nearly lost her life in that freezing water! Must you make such vicious remarks when she is lying here half-dead? Have you lost every shred of your humanity?"

I did not blink under his furious glare. Instead, I turned my gaze toward the edge of the pavilion and raised my voice. "Doctor Arthur Miller. Since you are Ferne's dedicated physician, this is precisely when you should earn your keep."

A slender man carrying a heavy leather medicine kit squeezed out from the crowd. Sweat beaded along his hairline, and his eyes darted nervously toward Bryce before he shuffled toward the girl on the grass.

Arthur knelt beside Ferne, reaching out trembling fingers to begin a customary pulse check.

Before his hand could touch her, I reached up and pulled a long, razor-sharp silver hairpin straight from Sadie's braided hair. I stepped into Arthur's space, holding the gleaming silver pin inches from his face.

"When a werewolf drowns, their Inner Wolf risks slipping into a permanent coma as the body's systems shut down," I said, my tone as sharp as winter frost. "Puncturing the fingertips with pure silver will trigger a severe survival response. The burning trauma is the fastest way to stimulate her dormant bloodline and shock the beast awake. Pierce her fingers, Doctor."

Arthur recoiled, his medicine kit slipping from his grip and thudding against the dirt. Every wolf in the pack knew the agonizing, burning torment of silver flesh wounds. Arthur's jaw trembled, and he stared at the pin, completely frozen.

On the ground, the moment the word silver left my lips, Ferne's eyelids fluttered violently. Her breathing hitched, and the rise and fall of her chest became ragged and fast.

Reacting to the sudden shift in her breath, Bryce immediately lunged to his feet, shielding Ferne behind his broad frame.

"Are you insane?" Bryce roared, reaching out to swat the silver from my hand. "You want to torture her with silver right in front of the Moon Goddess?"

I pivoted on my heel, letting his grasping fingers hit empty air. With a swift, downward snap of my wrist, I drove the silver pin deep into the soft earth, barely an inch from Ferne's left ear.

"As I just explained, Bryce," I said, my voice perfectly even. "The silver pin is the absolute best first-aid method to stimulate her bloodline and save her life. How could you possibly accuse me of trying to murder her?"

A low rustle of murmurs spread through the circle of aristocrats. Dozens of suspicious eyes darted between me and the shivering girl on the grass.

As if realizing her act could not withstand the threat of silver, Ferne gasped loudly. She let out a pitiful, exaggerated cough, spitting a mouthful of lake water onto the mud before clutching desperately at Bryce's wet trousers.

I looked down at her miraculous recovery, raising my chin as my voice rang out like iron striking stone.

"However, since she is awake, it brings us to a much darker truth," I declared, my gaze sweeping over the gathered elders. "If she fainted on purpose, then she intentionally interrupted this ceremony. To deliberately sabotage a Mating Ceremony blessed by the Moon Goddess is a massive disrespect to Her divine will. It is a gross violation of our wolf nature, and an absolute contempt for the rules of this pack!"

The entire clearing fell dead silent.

The weight of ancient pack tradition bore down on the gathering, wiping the sympathetic looks from the elders' faces and replacing them with deep scowls. Bryce's face drained of color, his grey eyes flashing with panic as he realized I had just trapped them in an unforgivable crime.

Before he could craft another lie to save her, Ferne's personal maid, Chloe Hicks, threw herself onto the ground, sobbing loudly as she cast a devastating accusation into the open air.

Kaia POV:

"Alpha Bryce and Lady Ferne made a sacred vow to one another long before today!" Chloe screamed, slamming her palms into the wet grass. "They share an unspoken bond!"

A collective gasp ripped through the crowd of nobles, followed by a wave of sharp, judgmental murmurs that turned instantly toward me.

My stomach did not drop. My heart did not race.

Instead, a dark, vindictive satisfaction bloomed in my chest. Hearing their filthy secret spoken aloud didn't bring tears; it only made my blood turn to pure, calculating ice. Finally, the ugly truth was out in the light.

Bryce froze, his face flushing crimson. He took a hesitant step toward me, hands half-raised in a feeble attempt to placate the crowd, but his spine lacked the courage to close the distance.

Ferne collapsed entirely against the mud, tears streaming down her pale cheeks as she choked out her words.

"Chloe, stop... please, be quiet," Ferne whimpered, ensuring every noble within twenty paces heard her trembling plea. "It wasn't real! Bryce and I were just playing a silly game. We never meant for it to be taken seriously..."

Watching her pathetic performance, a wave of profound nausea washed over me. The sheer audacity of her crocodile tears was almost laughable.

Sadie shook with pure fury beside me. Her hand dropped to the hilt of the silver dagger at her belt, her knuckles white.

"Shut your treacherous mouth!" Sadie snapped.

I caught Sadie's wrist, pressing it down to keep the steel sheathed. I wouldn't let my loyal friend dirty her hands. Stepping past her, I faced the pack of parasites staring at us. There was no room for weakness today, only the cold, hard ash of resolve.

I walked forward, my eyes locked onto Ferne's tear-stained face.

"A vow spoken between wolves is witnessed by the Moon Goddess Herself," I said, my voice steady and deadly calm, cutting through her pathetic lies. "Whether you claim it was a joke or not, the bond is forged, and the truth remains."

I then turned my gaze to Bryce. With every stride I took, he stepped back involuntarily until his spine hit the trunk of an ancient cedar.

I stopped two feet away, locking onto his shifty grey gaze.

"And tell me, Bryce," I continued, a fierce, protective rage flaring in my chest at the thought of my mother's legacy. "If you two had already established a sacred vow, why did you say nothing when the Montgomery Pack delivered three carriages of land deeds and gold for my dowry?"

Bryce stammered, his Adam's apple bobbing erratically.

"That is entirely different, Kaia," he pleaded, desperately trying to salvage his dignity. "Accepting your dowry was necessary to ensure the stability of our pack alliance. Besides... I didn't want to break your heart by rejecting you at the last minute."

A cold laugh tore from my throat, loud enough to echo off the stone pillars of the ceremonial pavilion.

"Break my heart?" I asked, turning slightly so every pack elder could see the disgust on my face. The mere mention of my mother's wealth sent a sharp ache through my chest, instantly hardening into pure fury. I would not let these leeches drain her hard-earned legacy. "Using the vast estates left behind by my late mother, Lady Evelyn Benton, to finance your secret lover's lavish lifestyle under the guise of an alliance-is that what passes for honor in the Mendoza Pack?"

The elders in the front row bristled, their expressions darkening with severe disapproval.

Among noble werewolves, squandering a highborn female's maternal inheritance to harbor a secret mistress was an unforgivable stain on pack honor.

Ferne saw the tide turning against them. She dragged herself across the grass, reaching out a muddy, trembling hand toward the hem of my dress.

"Sister... please, it isn't like that," Ferne sobbed. "Bryce was only trying to protect me. He has done nothing wrong..."

I took a smooth step back, letting her fingers claw empty air and plunge into the dirt.

"Do not touch me," I said, looking down at her filthy fingers, my skin crawling with revulsion. "A Mating Ceremony woven from deceit is not an alliance. It is a calculated theft of noble blood and legacy."

Bryce's jaw clenched, and his nostrils flared. Humiliated and cornered, he tapped into his Alpha aura, releasing a heavy, suffocating wave of dominant pheromones meant to force my knees to buckle.

Deep in my chest, my dormant White Wolf flared to life, roaring against his filthy dominance with absolute, unadulterated disgust. How dare this pathetic excuse for a male try to break me?

Instead of cowering, I straightened my spine, letting the ice in my pale blue eyes bore into his skull. I wanted him to feel the exact moment he lost control over me forever.

The raw, ancient authority slumbering in my veins pushed back against his cheap parlor trick. Bryce grunted under the invisible backlash, staggering back against the tree as his aura shattered like cheap glass.

Before the silence could settle, the heavy oak doors of the Mendoza Packhouse swung open with a deafening crash.

Beatrice Mendoza, the dowager lady of the territory, swept down the stone path, flanked by four armed sentries.

Her deep crimson velvet gown trailed behind her, her face carved from furious marble. Just the sight of her arrogant face made my pulse hammer with a dark urge. It took every ounce of willpower to keep my expression impassive.

Beatrice shoved her way through the murmuring guests, casting a furious glare at Ferne before fixing her cold eyes on me.

She forced a tight, condescending smile onto her lips and reached out to take my hands.

"Kaia, dearest," Beatrice said smoothly, trying to wrap her fingers around mine. "This is nothing more than foolish children making a scene. Let us not air private matters before the entire kingdom."

I felt the sharp pinch of her manicured nails attempting to dig into my skin.

I pulled my hands away with sharp precision, crossing them over my chest in a rigid stance of noble defense.

"This is not a petty squabble, Lady Beatrice," I replied, my tone polite yet laced with steel. "This is a deliberate insult to the honor of the entire Montgomery bloodline."

Beatrice's fake smile vanished instantly. She leaned in, lowering her voice so that only I could hear the venom dripping from her words.

"You push this today, girl, and you leave as a rejected female. A discarded wolf will never find a place in the high courts of the capital."

A rejected female. The words were meant to be a death sentence, a terror that would force any noble lady to yield. But as they hung in the air, a profound, exhilarating sense of liberation washed over me. I didn't fear rejection; I craved it. It was my ticket to freedom.

I tilted my chin, meeting her venomous glare without a single flinch, a triumphant smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth.

"I would rather walk the wilderness alone for eternity than share a sacred bond with a family of thieves."

Ferne let out a bloodcurdling shriek from the ground.

Before anyone could react, she reached into the cuff of her riding boot and pulled out a gleaming, polished blade.

A collective shout of panic erupted from the surrounding crowd.

It was a dagger forged from pure silver, the one weapon capable of burning a werewolf's soul to ash.

Ferne pressed the razor edge directly against the pulse point of her neck. A thin line of crimson welled up instantly, and she glared at me with desperate, crazed eyes.

Kaia POV:

The pure silver bit into Ferne's flesh, and the sharp hiss of burning skin rose into the crisp air, accompanied by the acrid stench of scorched wolf blood.

Bryce let out a frantic, guttural howl, lunging forward to disarm her, but the wild desperation in Ferne's wide eyes froze him dead in his tracks.

"Don't come closer!" Ferne shrieked, pressing the silver deeper. "I'll carve my own throat out!"

Beatrice gasped, clutching her heavy velvet bodice with trembling fingers as she barked orders at her personal guards.

"Lower your weapons! Stand back, all of you! Do not provoke her!"

Tears carved clean tracks through the mud on Ferne's cheeks. She looked past Bryce's shaking hands, locking her frantic gaze squarely onto me.

"Sister, I am not asking for a title!" she cried out, her voice cracking with manufactured grief. "I don't need a ceremony! Just let me stay by Bryce's side, even as an unmarked servant in the kitchens! Just let me breathe the same air as my Alpha!"

A ripple of sympathetic murmurs fluttered through the gathering. Several elderly Beta lords exchanged troubled looks, their eyes drifting toward me with unspoken judgment, as though my refusal to accept her made me a heartless monster.

Inside my mind, a bitter laugh echoed.

In my past life, this exact performance had fooled me. I had swallowed my pride, accepted her humble plea, and watched helplessly as she slowly dismantled my life, poisoned my wolf, and stole my rightful seat as Luna.

I stood unmoving, my arms hanging loosely at my sides, watching her theatrical tragedy unfold without a flicker of pity.

Beatrice spun around and clamped her hand onto my forearm, her nails digging into the silk of my sleeve.

"Kaia, look at her!" Beatrice hissed, her voice trembling with barely suppressed fury. "Are you truly going to stand there and watch a young girl slaughter herself on your wedding day? The blood of kin will curse your name across every pack in the realm!"

I ripped my arm from Beatrice's grasp with enough force to make the older woman stumble.

I smoothed down the ruffled silk of my cuff, keeping my voice level and cold.

"A curse? Under the ancient Royal Code, any wolf who draws a silver blade to threaten their sovereign lord or lady is guilty of high treason. The law demands her head, not my pity."

The crowd erupted into stunned whispers. Bryce stared at me as if looking at a stranger, his mouth agape.

I pointed a finger at Ferne, turning my fierce glare back to the man who claimed to be an Alpha.

"Bryce Mendoza, you stand here as the lord of this pack, yet you allow a hysterical woman to hold you hostage with a silver blade. Where is your command? Where is your strength? Is this the pathetic excuse for leadership the Mendoza Pack offers its people?"

Bryce's pale skin flushed a deep, mottled purple. Stung to the core by the public assault on his pride, his fists shook, yet his feet remained glued to the earth.

Ferne saw the tide of public opinion wavering again. With a dramatic sob, she jerked her wrist, letting the silver blade bite half an inch deeper into her neck. Dark blood poured down her collarbone, soaking the white lace of her bodice.

"Alpha, please!" Chloe wailed from the grass. "Promise her! If this goes on, the silver poison will reach Miss Ferne's heart and destroy her Inner Wolf forever!"

Bryce's fragile composure shattered entirely.

He turned on his heels, his knees buckling under the weight of his desperation, and dropped heavily to one knee in the dirt right before me.

He reached out, his muddy hands grasping for the hem of my pristine gown.

I pulled back half a step, letting his empty hands hover in the air like a beggar's cup.

Bryce looked up at me, his grey eyes bloodshot and pleading.

"Kaia, I am begging you. Yield just this once. I swear to you by the moon, you will remain the only true Luna of this castle. She will be nothing more than a shadow in the halls. She will never challenge your rule."

Looking down at the man who had ordered my execution in another life, a wave of pure nausea churned in my stomach.

Beatrice stepped forward, adopting a honeyed tone of compromise.

"Kaia, child, if you nod your head today, our pack will forever honor your grace. We will even grant you an extra tenth of the annual trade tax from the southern valley. Think of the wealth you will control."

I looked at the mother and son pair, marveling at how easily they believed honor, dignity, and bloodlines could be bought with a few gold coins and false promises.

I took a slow, deep breath, allowing my words to cut through the stillness like a winter wind.

"You expect me to permit a woman who shares a secret, broken vow with my betrothed to dwell in my household as an unmarked servant?"

Bryce nodded frantically, a flicker of triumphant relief sparking in his eyes. He truly believed I was on the verge of breaking.

My lips curved into a razor-thin smile.

"And then," I continued, my voice dropping into a deadly, ringing register, "I am supposed to sit quietly while she uses the bastard growing in her womb to rob my future heirs of their rightful inheritance?"

The clearing fell into an absolute, suffocating silence.

Every single noble, guard, and elder snapped their heads toward Ferne's flat stomach.

Beatrice staggered backward, her hands flying to her mouth in horror.

Ferne's hand jerked violently, the silver dagger slipping from her slick fingers and clattering harmlessly against a rock. She stared up at me with sheer, unadulterated terror, as though looking at a demon who had torn her mind wide open.

"What... what are you talking about?" Bryce stammered, his eyes darting frantically between me and Ferne. "That's impossible... she isn't..."

"Doctor Arthur Miller," I called out, not sparing Bryce another glance. "When you hesitated to draw blood earlier, was it truly because you feared the silver-or were you terrified that silver toxicity would stop the fragile heartbeat of the child she carries?"