The Weakling's Betrayal
When President White Verne of Moondale died, hope flickered like a candle in the wind. For a brief, foolish moment, the people believed peace would return. But Moondale did not heal—it shattered.
The Werewolf Nobles carved the land into four territories, each ruled by an Alpha with blood on their hands and greed in their hearts. The East belonged to Alpha Ivan Dale, the famed true Alpha. The West bowed to Alpha Edgar. The North, to Alpha Glenn. And the South… the South belonged to Alpha Harold—ruthless, calculating, and cold.
And unfortunately for me, Deanna, I was born into Harold’s domain.
I’ve never shifted. Neither have I felt my wolf stir. And in the South, that made me nothing. Weak. An embarrassment. An orphaned girl fated to be the mate of a man who saw strength as the only virtue.
A man like Alpha Harold.
They whispered about me behind my back. Not because they feared me—but because they pitied me. The girl too broken to shift. The girl promised to an Alpha who never wanted her.
“Are you done staring at yourself?” I snapped, my tone sharper than I intended. Erma spun from the mirror with a satisfied smile. She always loved how she looked, especially tonight.
“How’s the lipstick?” she asked, puckering her overly red lips. I offered a faint nod.
“It’s hot,” I lied. Anything to make her move faster.
We arrived at Harold’s mansion—lavish, glowing, grand. No one would guess there was a dungeon beneath it. The ballroom glittered like a scene out of a fantasy. My breath caught when Harold approached us, dressed in black, a wine glass in hand, eyes gleaming with pride.
“You look stunning in the dress I picked,” he said smoothly, handing me his drink.
For a fleeting second, I felt like I belonged—until he stepped away, and another presence entered the room.
Alpha Dale.
The true Alpha.
He was everything Harold wasn’t—graceful, powerful, respected. My heart stilled as I caught sight of him. I’d only ever heard stories. Tonight, I saw the legend in flesh.
“Deanna,” Harold called, tugging my arm. “Time to go upstairs. The Elites await.”
“I’ll catch up,” I murmured. But my eyes followed Dale as he slipped out to the forbidden garden.
Curiosity lured me forward. I trailed him, watching the way his wavy brown hair brushed his shoulders with each step. I stopped at the edge of the garden path, torn. I couldn't disobey Harold. Not because I feared him, but because I feared what I'd discover—what might make me stop loving him altogether.
I turned back.
Later, seated at the long, ornate dining table, Erma adjusted her dress, her cleavage on full display. Harold’s gaze found her. Lingered.
I looked away—straight into the eyes of Alpha Dale as he entered the room. Strong. Silent. Watching me.
Harold rose, clearing his throat.
“Now that we’re complete…”
He began his speech, and I raised the wine to my lips—only to freeze. My gaze locked on his mouth. Red.
Lipstick.
The same shade Erma wore.
My hands trembled. The room spun. I couldn’t breathe.
The glass slipped and clattered against the table, shattering the silence.
“I—I’m sorry,” I choked, rising on unsteady feet, stumbling from the room as tears blurred my vision.
I ran, crashing into Taylor—Harold’s Beta, and once my friend.
“Deanna! What’s wrong?”
I didn’t answer. I locked myself in the bathroom, gripping the sink as sobs tore through me. My heart splintered.
“How could you do this to me, Harold?” I whispered to the mirror, voice breaking. “You were all I had left.”
I washed my face, telling myself I’d forgive him. I had to. Who else would I have?
But back in the dining hall, reality shattered me again.
“I know the rumors,” Harold declared. “But let’s set the record straight. I’d never mate a weakling who can’t shift. I need a real Luna. Someone like Erma.”
He took her hand.
They clapped.
And I died.
I didn’t need Taylor’s worried look to tell me what came next. In Harold’s domain, the weak were discarded. Thrown into the dungeon. Forgotten.
“Here,” Taylor whispered, slipping a key into my palm. “It’s for my place. There’s cash in the drawer. Go. Now.”
I ran.
Boarded a cab. Whispered, “Gen Hills.” Prayed.
I reached his apartment, grabbed the money, packed it into a bag, and opened the door—
Only to find Harold waiting.
And behind him… Taylor.
“I’m sorry,” Taylor said, voice small.
My heart collapsed.
This… this was how I was captured by the man I once loved.