The scent of roses filled the ceremonial hall. Ayesha's trembling body stood at the edge of the crowd, heart pounding as her eyes locked on the raised platform, where he stood.
Alpha Ronan. Dressed in black and gold. Powerful. Untouchable. And beside him… the woman in white.
Not her…
The pack cheered as Ronan lifted his Luna's hand and kissed her knuckles. Ayesha felt her legs tremble beneath her. Her throat tightened.
It was an open space, yet she couldn't breathe. Because just two days ago, it was her in his bed. Her body he craved night after night. Her hand he held, whispering promises under moonlight, 'You'll be mine, Ayesha. My Luna. My forever.'
But now, he wouldn't even look at her. Not once.
Ayesha bit down on her lower lip so hard she tasted blood. She fought to keep the tears from spilling, even as her eyes brimmed with them. Her fingernails dug into her palms, grounding her against the sharp, stabbing pain in her chest.
Behind her, whispers slithered like vipers.
"Is that her? The omega who thought she'd be Luna?"
"She actually believed it? How pathetic."
"Like I predicted! He tossed her out in just a few weeks."
"She's not even shifted."
"She must've dosed her scent. No omega smells like that naturally."
"Of course, he'd never choose a nobody like her."
"She's just his bed warmer."
"A heat toy. Nothing more."
One high-ranked she-wolf, her name Alenna, bumped into her near the garden path and sneered openly.
"The Alpha's favorite little whore. Pity, I guess you'll be back in scrubbing floors, huh?" she said, smiling sweetly before walking off.
Aria didn't respond. She couldn't. Her throat was too tight.
She turned away, blinking quickly but it didn't stop the sting. Tears slipped down her cheeks, unstoppable, no matter how hard she tried to wipe them away.
She'd grown up in this pack, with her older brother Levi and her five-year-old niece, Lyra, as her only family.
Levi was a respected warrior. But Ayesha? She was just a kitchen omega, scrubbing floors and serving meat to ranked wolves like her life depended on it.
A bitter smile tugged at her lips as she remembered the night everything changed… The night she became Alpha Ronan's woman.
Everyone used to say Alpha Ronan never touched the same woman twice. He'd use them, leave them, and forget them. And as far as anyone could remember, he had never even looked in Ayesha's direction. She was invisible. No rank. No name. Just another face in the crowd.
She was nineteen then. Still no wolf. Still no shift. But that night was different. It was the Moon Rite - a sacred midnight tradition where werewolves were tested, ranked, and, if they were lucky, claimed. That midnight, she also turned twenty.
As the world around her shifted that night, Ayesha fell to her knees. She remembered it clearly - how her spine arched, how her fingers clutched at her chest as something powerful unfurled inside her.
Her scent spilled out - wild, rich, and dangerously sweet - rushing through the clearing like smoke on the wind. That was the moment Alpha Ronan's eyes locked on hers.
Conversations halted. Laughter died. And the air turned still.
And across the stone altar, Alpha Ronan's head snapped up.
He stood at the center of the platform, tall and terrifying in black ceremonial furs. His golden eyes burned like embers, scanning the crowd, searching for the source.
Then his gaze landed on her. And the world seemed to stop breathing. The silver goblet in his hand bent under his grip.
She didn't move. Couldn't. Not when her entire body was locked in place by the way he looked at her like she was prey, prophecy, and possession all at once.
And then he stepped down. Alpha Ronan, the strongest wolf in the Crimson Howl Pack, moved through the crowd like a storm coming to life. He didn't speak. He didn't break eye contact. Even as ranked warriors and nobles stepped back in confusion, he didn't stop.
When he reached her, he stopped just inches away. His eyes - bright gold, wild with something barely restrained - roamed her face, then her throat.
And before she could speak, he grabbed her wrist. Firm. Possessive. Like she already belonged to him.
His head dipped low, his nose brushing the sensitive spot just below her jaw. He inhaled, deeply, hungrily, as if he were taking in something vital to his survival.
A low, guttural growl rumbled from his chest. "Mine," he said, voice rough and dark.
No one dared to speak. No one dared to stop him.
"No one will touch her. She's mine," he announced.
Then, without warning, he pulled Ayesha forward, leading her away from the ash-stained altar stones, away from the servants who used to mock her, and away from the life she thought she'd live forever.
That night, she was no longer invisible. He took her to a private room on the upper floor of the Alpha Wing, a place no omega had ever been allowed. He pulled her into his arms, and kissed her like he'd waited years to do so. And Ayesha let him.
Even though it scared her. Even though she had no place in this world of ranked wolves and Luna heirs. Because for once in her life… someone had chosen her.
Each night, Alpha Ronan came to her. He didn't knock. He didn't speak, not at first. He would step into her room like a storm, closing the door behind him, and pull her into his arms.
There were nights he kissed her with aching hunger, nights he took her with a growl in his throat and his face buried in her neck. Nights where it felt like the world outside her walls didn't exist.
"You smell like sin," he murmured once, his hand wrapped around her waist, "and something I don't want to live without."
Ayesha's heart had nearly stopped.
'Was that love?' She didn't ask. She didn't dare.
Instead, she clung to that moment. To that sentence. Let it carry her through the lonely mornings and the judgmental stares. She tried to believe she was different.
That maybe she wasn't just another omega in his bed. That maybe, just maybe… he would claim her and make her his Luna.
But it had all been nothing but broken promises and a lie.
Ayesha turned to the joyful gathering, the scene blurring through the tears that streamed down her face.
She placed a trembling hand over her belly, her voice cracking as she whispered, "I'm carrying his child."