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 5
Elara Thorne POV:
Jax’s arrogant words shattered the fragile peace in our home. I felt Faye stir in my lap, and I carefully lifted her, placing her gently on our small pile of furs in the corner. Then, I stood up.
I moved to stand between him and the pot, my body a silent barrier. My eyes were as cold as a winter night. "My food is for my family," I said, my voice low and even. "You are not welcome here."
His face flushed a deep, ugly red. Humiliation warred with his greed. "You forget yourself, Omega!" he snarled, taking a threatening step forward. "Without me, you and your pups would have starved in the woods long ago! Consider this a taste of the interest you owe me!"
I didn't back down. I took a step toward him. "I remember," I said, my voice cutting through his bluster. "I remember you taking the pack rations meant for my children, then 'gifting' me back a few scraps and demanding my gratitude."
The words hung in the air, sharp and undeniable. Jax was struck dumb, his jaw working but no sound coming out.
Behind me, I heard a sharp intake of breath. Moira and Cole were staring, their faces a mixture of shock and dawning understanding. They had believed his lies. They thought he was our protector, not our tormentor. My silence had allowed their disdain to fester.
Rage finally overtook Jax's shock. He lunged, his hand reaching for the pot.
I was ready. My hand moved in a blur, and the thorny, black vine materialized in my grasp. It sang through the air, cracking like a whip.
He had learned his lesson from before. He tried to snatch his hand back, but the tip of the vine caught him across the back of his knuckles. A thin, black line of blood welled up instantly.
He yelped and scrambled back, his eyes fixed on the vine in my hand with raw terror.
I held the vine loosely, letting it dangle from my fingers. I let my gaze sweep across the room, from the cowering Jax to my wide-eyed son, and finally, to my stunned mother-in-law.
My voice, when I spoke, was not loud, but it held the weight of absolute law. "From this day forward, there are new rules in this house. Rule one: No one touches my children. Rule two: I do not share my food with outsiders."
My eyes locked onto Jax, sharp and unforgiving. "You are an outsider. Get out. And never come back."
The combination of my unyielding stare and the unnatural weapon in my hand was too much for him. His bravado crumbled completely. He muttered a stream of curses under his breath and stumbled out of our hovel, a coward defeated.
As he disappeared, the vine in my hand dissolved into harmless motes of light.
The silence that followed was profound. Cole looked from the empty doorway to me, and for the first time, I saw something akin to awe in his eyes.
Moira’s expression was a tempest of emotions. She finally found her voice, though it was rough and strained. "Was it true? What you said? Jax was stealing your supplies?"
I simply nodded. There was no need for embellishment. The truth was enough.
A flicker of guilt crossed her face before she masked it with her usual stoicism. She stood for a long, silent moment, then turned to leave. "I... I should go."
She paused at the doorway, her back to me. "Tomorrow," she said, not looking at me. "Make extra. I want to take some to the Elder."
She left without another word, almost fleeing. But I understood. It wasn't an order. It was a request. The first she had ever made of me.
Cole walked over to me, his small hand reaching out to tug on my tunic. He looked up, his emerald eyes clear and direct.
"Mom," he said.
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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.