The Rejected Lunas Secret Rise Of The White Wolf

On our tenth mating anniversary, I stood outside my Alpha husband's office with his favorite coffee, only to be hit by the cloying scent of rotting peaches—a female in heat.

Through the mind-link, I heard him promise his mistress he'd deal with the "boring formalities" regarding me tonight.

I walked in to find him plotting with his pregnant assistant, Jami.

Instead of apologizing, Dustin sneered at me.

"She gave me in three months what you couldn't give me in ten years. A strong lineage."

He conveniently forgot that I was the one who built his empire, designed his impenetrable wards, and funded his lifestyle by selling my own family heirlooms.

When I confronted him about the betrayal, he didn't just dismiss me; he shoved me.

I crashed into a silver nightstand. For a normal wolf, silver is an irritant. For me, a descendant of the White Wolf bloodline, it is acid.

As my flesh sizzled and blood poured down my face, blinding me, Dustin didn't even flinch.

He stepped over my convulsing body—his wife of a decade—to ask his mistress if she was stressed.

Lying on the floor, watching him comfort the woman wearing my mother's stolen ring, the bond finally died.

He thought I was a broken, barren Luna who would accept his scraps just to keep her title.

He was wrong.

I didn't call the police. I called a specialist extraction team.

"I am the architect of this pack's security and financial systems," I told the crew. "Decommission everything."

I wasn't just leaving. I was taking my empire with me.

Chapter 1

Eliana POV:

The tray in my hands did not tremble, even though my wolf, Seraphina, was pacing anxiously in the back of my mind. The coffee in the porcelain cup was black, just the way Dustin liked it, infused with a drop of energy potion I had brewed myself. It was our tenth mating anniversary.

I stood before the heavy oak doors of the Alpha's office. I took a deep breath, expecting the scent of old paper and the sandalwood cologne I had bought him last month.

Instead, a different smell hit me.

It was cloying and sweet, like rotting peaches left out in the sun too long. It was the scent of a female in heat, masked poorly by cheap vanilla perfume. It clashed violently with Dustin's musk.

My stomach churned. I reached for the door handle, but my hand froze when I heard the Mind-Link.

In our pack, the Iron Ridge Pack, telepathic communication was usually reserved for emergencies or tactical commands. But sometimes, if an Alpha wasn't careful, his mental barriers slipped.

You promise? A female voice giggled in my head. It wasn't directed at me, but I intercepted it because my bond with Dustin was still technically intact.

I promise, kitten. Just let me deal with the boring formalities tonight. She expects dinner. It's the anniversary of the day I got stuck with her, Dustin's voice replied. His tone was not weary; it was excited. It was a tone he hadn't used with me in five years.

I felt the blood drain from my face. I lowered the tray to a side table. I didn't knock. I pushed the door open.