Rejected Luna Turned The Alphas Surrogate

The moonlight filtered through the high windows of Damon's chamber, casting a silver glow on the polished wood floors. The room, usually bustling with advisors and pack members, was eerily quiet tonight. Damon stood by the window, his tall frame silhouetted against the night sky. His gaze was fixed on the full moon, but his thoughts were far from the serene scene outside.

Damon was known for his strength and ruthless leadership. He was a man of few words and even fewer emotions, at least on the surface. His pack respected him, and his enemies feared him. He had built his power through strategic alliances and calculated decisions, always staying one step ahead. But tonight, a rare unease gnawed at him. For all his power, the one thing he couldn't control was the future. And the future of his pack depended on him-yet he had no heir to ensure that future.

A soft knock on the door broke through his thoughts. Without turning, Damon grunted, signaling whoever it was to enter. The door creaked open, and Marcus, his trusted advisor, stepped into the room.

"Damon," Marcus said in a low, respectful tone. "Everything is prepared."

Damon nodded but kept his eyes on the moon. He didn't need to ask what Marcus was referring to; they had discussed this plan many times, always in secret, away from curious ears. Yet now, with everything in place, Damon hesitated.

"Do you think this is necessary?" Damon's voice carried a rare hint of doubt.

Marcus, careful with his words, stepped closer. "It's a precaution. The pack must have an heir, someone to continue your legacy... if anything were to happen."

Finally, Damon turned away from the window, his eyes cold and calculating. "Nothing will happen to me," he said, more to convince himself than Marcus. Damon had faced countless threats, vanquished challengers both within and outside his pack. But deep down, he knew that even the strongest Alpha couldn't fight time.

Still, the thought of storing his sperm felt like an admission of vulnerability. It went against everything Damon believed in, everything he had built. But Marcus was right. The pack's future was more important than his pride.

"Very well," Damon said after a long pause. "Make sure it's done discreetly. No one outside this room is to know."

"Of course," Marcus replied, his relief barely visible behind his stoic demeanor. He knew better than to show too much emotion in front of Damon, but he had worried that the Alpha's stubbornness would override his logic.

As Marcus left the room to finalize the arrangements, Damon returned to the window. He watched as the moon dipped lower in the sky, signaling the approach of dawn. The decision was made, but the unease remained. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had set something in motion, something that would change the course of his life-and the lives of those around him-forever.

Far from the grandeur of Damon's chamber, in a much smaller and humbler home, Seraphina sat on the edge of her bed, her head bowed, and hands clenched tightly in her lap. The room was dimly lit by a single candle, its flickering light casting long shadows on the rough wooden walls. She had just returned from yet another meeting with an Alpha, and once again, she had been rejected.

The words still rang in her ears, cruel and dismissive. "You're not what I'm looking for," the Alpha had said, his tone flat and unfeeling. "I need a mate who can stand by my side, who can command respect. You... you're not strong enough."

It wasn't the first time she had heard those words. In fact, it was the third time in as many weeks. Each rejection chipped away at her self-confidence, leaving her feeling smaller and more insignificant with each passing day. But she refused to let the pain consume her. Seraphina had been through worse, much worse, and she had survived. She would survive this too.

Seraphina took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart. She had always known that finding a mate would be difficult. She wasn't like the other female wolves, who were strong and commanding, able to hold their own in the brutal world of werewolf politics. She was quiet, more comfortable in the background than in the spotlight. But that didn't mean she was weak.