The Alpha's Abandoned Mate Is The True Luna
My Alpha mate abandoned me three years ago, leaving me as a disgraced Omega to raise our two children in a freezing, ruined hovel.
To keep them from starving, I was forced into a humiliating deal with a rogue wolf named Jax, who stole our pack rations and demanded my young son as payment.
The entire pack shunned me, my mother-in-law treated me like dirt, and my children lived in constant fear.
When I finally awakened my ancient Luna bloodline to fight off Jax and feed my kids, Ryker suddenly returned.
But he didn't come to save us. He blasted our door off its hinges, his eyes burning with a murderous rage.
He ignored our starving reality and accused me of selling our bloodline to the rogue.
"Where is the rogue? Who did you trade my bloodline to?!"
I had endured beatings, starvation, and utter humiliation just to keep his children breathing.
I had bled to protect our family. Yet, the moment he returned, he believed the lies of our tormentor and looked at me with the intent to kill.
Why was I the villain in the story of my own survival?
As his powerful inner wolf suddenly whined in submission for the magical food I had cooked, his Alpha command faltered into deep confusion.
He ordered me not to leave his sight until I explained everything.
But looking at the mate who had abandoned us, my mind was crystal clear.
The real question wasn't whether I would leave, but whether he was still worthy of letting me stay.
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Chapter 3
Elara Thorne POV:
Cole’s question was a punch to the gut. "Who... are you?"
My heart clenched. I knelt down, trying to meet his gaze, but he flinched away. "I'm your mother, Cole," I said softly, my voice aching with a pain deeper than any physical blow. "I will always be your mother."
He took another step back, pulling Faye behind him. His small face was a mask of suspicion. "My mother... she doesn't use black whips on people."
Before I could answer, a tiny gurgle broke the tense silence. Faye’s stomach. Hunger, a more immediate and honest need than fear.
The worn blanket serving as our door was pushed aside. Moira Blackwood, my mate's mother and the pack's former Luna, stepped inside. Her sharp blue eyes took in the broken doorframe and the fear on her grandchildren's faces. She ignored me completely.
"Here," she said, her voice clipped, handing Cole and Faye a piece of stale bread. "Eat. Don't expect anything from her."
Her gaze finally fell on me, cold and sharp as ice. "Jax was here. What trouble did you cause this time? Did you renege on your deal, and he came to collect his due?"
In her eyes, I was and always would be a disgrace who consorted with rogues. The old me would have dissolved into tears, babbling denials. The new me simply met her gaze.
"I sent him away," I said, my voice calm. "He will not come near my children again."
Moira let out a disbelieving scoff. The fear in the children's eyes only confirmed her assumptions about me.
I knew words were useless. "Wait here," I told my children, my tone gentle but firm. "Mama is going to make you a real breakfast."
I went to a corner of the hovel, closed my eyes, and entered the Sacred Hunting Ground. My intent was clear: I needed something gentle, nourishing, something that radiated life, not violence.
My consciousness drifted over a moon-drenched meadow. I saw them. A small herd of creatures like rabbits, but their fur glowed with a soft, internal light. Moon-rabbits.
I chose the plumpest one, focusing my will. When I opened my eyes, a rabbit-like creature, warm and pulsing with a faint light, lay in my hands. It smelled of sweet milk and fresh grass.
Moira gasped, her eyes wide with shock and suspicion. "What is that? What dark magic did you use to conjure such a thing?"
I didn't answer. I moved to our small fire pit, my hands moving with an instinct I didn't know I possessed. It was as if the Luna blood in my veins knew exactly how to prepare this blessed food. With my last few embers and a dented pot, I began to stew the meat.
Soon, an incredible aroma filled our small home. It was a warm, rich scent, one that seemed to soothe the soul and promise comfort.
Faye’s little nose twitched, and she swallowed audibly. Cole's rigid, defensive posture relaxed slightly. Even Moira's harsh expression softened with a flicker of something I couldn't name. Their inner wolves, starved for so long, were captivated.
When the stew was ready, I ladled the first bowl. I didn't taste it myself, nor did I offer it to anyone. I walked to the small, crude stone shelf in the corner—our altar to the Moon Goddess. I placed the bowl there.
"Thank you for your gift," I murmured, my head bowed.
The simple act of reverence seemed to chip away at the wall of Moira’s suspicion. Just a little. She watched me, her expression unreadable.
Then she looked at the steaming pot, and back at her hungry grandchildren. Her eyes narrowed, her face hardening once more into a mask of maternal defiance.
She pointed a stern finger at me. "Before my grandchildren touch a drop of that, you will eat it. In front of me."
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9.3
Born into privilege, Eleanor never imagined her life could shatter in a single night. Then her father disappeared with his mistress, her mother fell from a building and slipped into a coma, and everything she once owned turned to dust.
Determined not to ruin Jonathan's future with her family's disgrace, she ended their relationship and became the bride of a man trapped in a vegetative state.
She believed that was the last time their paths would cross. But two years later, Jonathan pinned her in the dark and whispered, "Long time no see, my sister-in-law."
9.4
Michael Carter is an undercover FBI agent on a mission to take down ruthless mafia king Fernando Ramírez-the man he believes killed his sister. But getting close to Fernando means playing a dangerous game, one where seduction and power blur the lines between enemy and lover.
When Michael uncovers a shocking truth, his thirst for revenge turns into a fight for something far more dangerous-his own heart. Now, torn between duty and desire, he must decide: destroy the man he swore to take down or surrender to the one thing he never saw coming.
Love has never been more lethal.
9.2
Clara was drowning in student debt and barely making rent when she downloaded a fantasy mobile game to escape reality.
Inside the game, an exiled prince named Alex was freezing to death. Pitying him, she spent her last few dollars on microtransactions to fix his shelter and cure his poison.
But the game was far too real.
Every time she paid, the prince reacted. When she complained aloud about going broke, the in-game army suddenly halted, as if the prince had heard her voice.
Then, the terrifying real-world consequences hit.
Clara woke up to find her water glass and a box of Kleenex had vanished from her locked bedroom overnight.
She frantically searched the tiny apartment, her heart pounding in her chest.
She thought she was losing her mind. Had she thrown them out in her sleep? Was there a stalker hiding in her home?
How could physical objects just disappear into thin air behind a deadbolted door?
Until she looked at her nightstand.
Sitting exactly where her missing items used to be was a glowing, weightless crystal cup that defied all logic.
And on her laptop screen, the exiled prince was carefully holding her Kleenex box, offering a mountain of real gold on an altar.
She hadn't just downloaded a mobile game; she had opened a cross-dimensional trade route with a desperate future king.
7.2
Clara's husband of three years walked into their penthouse with two lawyers.
He threw a divorce agreement on the table, demanding she sign away all her assets. If she refused, he would bankrupt her family and send her mother to federal prison.
He did it all for his new girlfriend, Corinne. After stripping Clara of everything, Kane stood by while Corinne publicly humiliated her, stepping on her fingers and mocking her misery. When Kane suspected Clara might be pregnant, he dragged her to a private clinic. He forced her onto an examination table and ordered a deeply invasive medical check-up, treating her like absolute garbage just to ensure she wasn't carrying his heir.
Lying on the cold medical bed in a thin paper gown, Clara's heart completely shattered. She didn't understand how the man who once promised her forever could turn into such a ruthless monster. She was indeed pregnant, but she knew if he found out, he would steal her baby and destroy her completely.
With the help of a tech-genius friend, Clara faked a negative test result and escaped his clutches. The next day, she walked into their company, threw a bold "I QUIT" note right in the mistress's face, and walked away. Touching her belly, Clara swore she would return to make them pay for every single thing they had done.
7.1
To save my family from ruin, I remarried my billionaire ex-husband, Jaxon Lowe. He held my late mother' s locket hostage, forcing me back into a gilded cage where I endured his cold contempt and his very public affair. I played the part of the silent, obedient wife he demanded, building a wall of ice around my heart just to survive.
But my obedience didn't protect me. He abandoned me in a torrential downpour to rescue his mistress, Ivory.
Then, he broke his one promise. He let Ivory have my mother's locket pulled from auction, the very reason for my sacrifice, simply because she found it "unlucky."
That final betrayal led me straight into the hands of his business rival, where I was tortured and left for dead.
But I survived.
Four months later, Jaxon found me. He stood before me, tears streaming down his face, holding the now-repaired locket and begging for forgiveness.
I took back what was mine.
"I want a divorce," I said, my voice calm and final. "And I never want to see you again."
7.6
My baby daughter died in the cold hospital, and I agreed to donate her heart to save another pup. I brought her ashes home in a small wooden box, seeking comfort from my mate.
But when I returned to the packhouse, I found a massive celebration. My Alpha mate wasn't away on patrol; he was throwing a grand Naming Ceremony for his sister's newborn. He didn't even know our daughter was dead.
"Give Lyra the gift. Now."
He impatiently demanded I hand over the box in my arms. When his sister's son tried to snatch it, I pushed him away to protect my baby's ashes. His sister immediately screamed, accusing me of trying to hurt her children out of jealousy.
Without asking a single question, my mate grabbed my wrist, ready to smash the box to teach me a lesson. To save my daughter's remains, I had to drop to the floor, bare my neck in ultimate submission, and lie that it was just my late father's relics.
He was disgusted by my tears. Later, when I tried to jump off the balcony to end my pain, he pulled me back—not out of love, but because my suicide would ruin his perfect party. He locked me in my room and ordered the maids to force me into a bright red dress for the evening feast.
Looking at the red silk that mocked my bleeding heart, my despair finally died, replaced by a cold, venomous hatred. I tucked a white funeral flower into my hair and walked out the door. This time, I was going to turn their joyous celebration into a living hell.