Broken by the Alpha, Reborn as Queen

I was the Luna of Silver Lake, yet I spent my mornings cooking eggs for my Alpha mate while his mistress, Keyla, sat in my rightful seat.

I endured the humiliation for the sake of the bond, until the day my mother found Keyla poisoning the pack's water supply.

To hide her crime, Keyla murdered my mother in cold blood.

I screamed for justice, begging Garrison to open his eyes.

But he didn't look at the evidence. He looked at the merger Keyla’s father offered.

"She's hysterical," he told the guards, stepping over my mother's body to protect his mistress.

To seal their alliance, he dragged me to the Great Hall and publicly rejected me, severing our soul-bond to sell me off to a sadistic Alpha for mining rights.

He expected me to beg. He expected the weak, bloodline-cursed Omega to crumble.

Instead, I accepted the rejection with a smile.

That night, I drank a potion to erase my scent and threw myself into the storm, faking my death.

Garrison thinks I’m a corpse at the bottom of a cliff, and rumors say he’s finally drowning in regret.

He has no idea that the pain didn't kill me. It triggered the ancient, legendary blood of the White Wolf.

Now, standing on the ridge with a Rogue mercenary army, I’m no longer the wife who cooks breakfast.

I’m the monster at his gates, and I won't stop until his entire world is ash.

Chapter 1

Janette POV

Hot grease spat from the skillet, searing the back of my hand.

I didn't flinch.

Pain was a familiar friend in the Silver Lake Pack house. It was certainly a more constant companion than the warmth of a mate’s affection.

I plated the eggs, sunny side up, just the way Garrison liked them. My movements were mechanical, a routine honed over three years of suffocating silence. I was the Luna of this pack by title, but here in the kitchen, wearing a stained apron while the Omegas whispered in the hallway, I knew my true place.

I was an anomaly. A glitch in the Moon Goddess's design.

I touched the scar on my neck. The Mate Marking. It should have been a symbol of eternal devotion, a claim that told every other male wolf to back off because I belonged to the Alpha. But Garrison’s teeth had sunk into me with reluctance, not passion. It was a political necessity, nothing more.

I carried the tray into the dining room. The morning sun streamed through the high windows, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. Garrison sat at the head of the long mahogany table. He didn't look up. He was reading a human financial newspaper, his brow furrowed.

"Breakfast," I said softly.

"Hmn."

That was it. No *Good morning*. No *How did you sleep?* Just a grunt of acknowledgement that a servant had delivered fuel.

I sat at the far end of the table, the distance between us feeling like miles of frozen tundra. I closed my eyes and reached out with my mind, trying to find the thread that connected us. The Mate Bond. It was supposed to be a golden cord of shared emotion and thought.

*Garrison? Are you worried about the merger?* I sent the thought timidly.

I hit a wall. A cold, impenetrable barrier of mental static. He was blocking me. Again.

My wolf, usually dormant and beaten down, whined in the back of my mind. She craved her other half, but he kept his spirit locked away in a fortress where we weren't welcome.

I remembered the day we met. I was eighteen. The moment our eyes locked, the world had shifted. The scent of him—like rain-soaked earth and burning pine—had flooded my senses. My wolf had howled *Mine!* so loud it rattled my teeth.

I thought it was a fairy tale. I was wrong. I was a healer’s daughter with weak blood. He was the Alpha heir who needed a powerful Luna from a rich lineage. Destiny had played a cruel joke on us both.

The heavy oak doors swung open.

The air in the room changed instantly. It became heavy, charged with a dominance that made the hair on my arms stand up.

Keyla Dixon walked in.

She was everything I wasn't. Tall, voluptuous, and radiating the aggressive pheromones of a high-ranking Alpha female. She was the daughter of the neighboring pack’s Alpha, and technically, she was here as a "business consultant."

"Good morning, Garrison," she purred. Her voice was like warm honey laced with arsenic.

She didn't look at me. To her, I was furniture.

She walked right up to Garrison and placed a hand on his shoulder. I saw his muscles tense, then relax. He leaned into her touch.

"Keyla," Garrison said, folding his newspaper. His voice held a warmth I hadn't heard directed at me in months. "You're early."

"I couldn't wait to discuss the territory expansion," she said, sliding into the chair next to him—my rightful place, if only I had the courage to claim it. "Plus, I wanted to see how your shoulder is doing. The old injury acting up?"

She brushed her fingers over the fabric of his shirt, lingering near his neck.

I gripped my fork until my knuckles turned white. The scent of her perfume—cloying roses—mixed with her natural musk, trying to drown out my own scent in the room. It was a territorial display, plain and simple. She was marking him with her smell, right in front of me.

"It's fine," Garrison said, but he didn't move her hand. He looked at her, and for a second, I saw the calculation in his eyes. Keyla meant an alliance. Keyla meant power. Keyla meant a strong lineage.

I meant nothing.

"Remember that night in the ravine?" Keyla asked softly, her voice dropping an octave. "When I pulled you out of the wreck? I still have the scar on my shoulder from the jagged metal."

Garrison’s expression softened into guilt. "I owe you my life, Keyla. I haven't forgotten."

Lies. Or perhaps, convenient half-truths. My mother always said memory was a tricky thing, especially when influenced by ambition.

I stood up. The chair scraped loudly against the floor.

Both of them looked at me, annoyed by the interruption.

"I'll... I'll clear the plates," I whispered.

Keyla smirked. It was a small, sharp expression. "You do that, Janette. Domestic work suits you."

I gathered the dishes, my hands trembling. As I reached for Garrison’s plate, Keyla shifted, "accidentally" bumping my arm. The fork clattered onto the table.

"Clumsy," she muttered.

Garrison sighed, a sound of pure exasperation. "Janette, just leave it. The Omegas will get it."

I fled.

I ran past the grand staircase, out the back door, and into the herb garden. The air here was clean, smelling of rosemary and damp soil.

My mother, Elara, was on her knees, digging up roots. She was the Pack Healer, a woman of earth and quiet wisdom. She stopped when she saw me, her nose twitching.

"You smell like distress," she said, standing up and wiping her hands on her apron. "And... synthetic roses."

"She's in there again, Mom," I choked out.

Mom’s face tightened. "The bond is sacred, Janette. But men... men are weak creatures when power is dangled in front of them."

"He blocks me out. He lets her touch him."

Mom gripped my shoulders. Her eyes, usually so gentle, were fierce. "Listen to me. You have a strength inside you that they cannot see. You must hide it. Remember what I told you about your bloodline?"

"The White Wolf," I whispered. "But it's just a story."

"It is not a story," she hissed, looking around to ensure no one was listening. "It is a target on your back. If they knew what you truly were, Janette, they wouldn't worship you. They would cage you and breed you for power. You must remain the weak Omega in their eyes. Until you are ready."

I nodded, though I didn't feel strong. I felt like glass, already cracked and waiting to shatter.

*

That night, Garrison came to bed late. I was feigning sleep.

The mattress dipped under his weight. He smelled of brandy and Keyla’s rose perfume. It made my stomach turn.

He didn't reach for me. He lay on the edge of the bed, his back to me.

I opened my eyes and stared at the broad expanse of his shoulders. I wanted to scream. I wanted to claw at him and demand he acknowledge me. But the pack laws were clear: The Alpha’s word is law. The Alpha’s will is absolute.

I reached out a hand, hovering it inches from his spine. I could feel the heat radiating from him. My mate. My destiny.

"Garrison?" I whispered into the dark.

"Go to sleep, Janette," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "I have a long day tomorrow."

I pulled my hand back. I turned to the window, watching the full moon hang heavy and bright in the sky.

*Moon Goddess,* I prayed silently, a tear sliding down my nose to wet the pillow. *Is this it? Is this my Luna’s path?* To fade away until I am nothing but a ghost in my own home?

The moon offered no answer. Only the cold, silver light that felt less like a blessing and more like a spotlight on my shame.