Rejected by My Mate, So I Became the Enemy Alpha’s Luna

Chapter 6 – Packing What Hurts

By the time the Council room emptied, I felt hollow.

Helena left with Marcus and Serene to talk “logistics.” Warriors drifted out in tense clusters. At some point Hannah disappeared too, taking her jasmine-and-salt scent with her.

I stayed in my chair.

Dad and Mom were the last ones left with me.

For a moment we just sat in the ticking quiet.

Mom moved first. She knelt in front of me, hands closing over mine. Lavender and healing herbs hit my nose so hard my eyes burned.

“I am so, so sorry,” she whispered.

“For which part?” I asked. It came out rougher than I meant.

She flinched. “For all of it. For not seeing how much we were asking you to carry. For not stopping this sooner. For not making sure you knew you were—”

“Enough?” I supplied.

Her mouth trembled. “More than.”

Dad lowered himself into Helena’s old chair, elbows on his knees. “When Liam told us,” he said, voice raw, “I nearly tore his throat out. Right there.”

“You should have,” I said.

“He’s heir to this pack,” Dad replied. “Killing him in front of the Council would’ve destroyed more than just him. That’s what I told myself while I didn’t do it.” He shook his head. “I don’t know if I chose right. I just know you keep paying.”

“You just agreed to send me to an enemy alpha,” I said.

“I agreed,” he met my eyes, “to stand in a room where my daughter chose something for herself, even if it scared me more than war.”

Mom’s fingers tightened. “We should have listened when you went quiet,” she whispered. “You’re never quiet, Aria.”

“I was trying not to make trouble,” I said. “You had a rescued human kid, an heir, the Council. Me bleeding in the corner didn’t seem urgent.”

“You were never—”

“You treated me like someone who could take it,” I cut in. “You weren’t wrong. But you can’t be surprised I’m choosing not to keep doing it here.”

Silence, heavy and real.

“Three days is too fast,” Dad muttered.

“It’s fine,” I said. “Less time for everyone to practice their sad faces.”

“You’re going to spend the rest of your life wondering if you betrayed me,” I added quietly. “So here: you made the call you thought would save the most people. I’m making the call that saves me. We can both live with that.”

He sagged, looking suddenly older. “I don’t deserve you.”

“No one does,” Jace said from the doorway.

He stalked in, arms crossed, eyes red. “She’s not a resource. She’s my sister.”

Mom half‑laughed, half‑sobbed. “Jace, please—”

“No. You had your turn.” He jerked his chin at me. “Come on, bristle‑face. If Blackpine doesn’t wait, we’ve got packing to do.”

I stood. Mom rose too, panic in her eyes.

“Where will you stay? Do they have an infirmary? You have to promise—”

“Mom.” I stepped in and hugged her.

She crushed me to her. I breathed her in one last time as home, not just history.

“I’ll send word,” I said. “I’ll stay alive. I’ll make Blackpine regret thinking of me as a political convenience. That’s the best I’ve got.”

“You shouldn’t have to prove anything,” she whispered.

“I know. But if I have to, I’d rather do it where no one remembers me as the girl who got left at the door.”

Dad pulled me into a hard hug. “We’ll visit,” he said. “If Kael lets us.”

“If he doesn’t, you’ll have a great reason to hate him,” I managed.

“Be louder than them,” he said. “Whatever they say. Be louder.”

In my room, everything looked wrong. The bedspread, the training clothes, the photos—me, Hannah, Liam, all teeth and mud and laughter.

I crossed the room, tore one photo down.

Jace took it, ripped Liam’s half off, and handed me the piece with just me and Hannah.

“There,” he said. “Better.”

A shaky sound escaped me.

“Three days,” he said, hauling my duffel out. “What do you want to take?”

I looked around at my life. At how small it suddenly felt.

“Not much,” I said. “Only what’s mine.”

My wolf lifted her head, gaze turned toward the dark line of trees beyond the window.

In three days, I’d be running toward a border I’d been raised to fear, to an alpha who didn’t know me and hadn’t pitied me even once.

For the first time, it didn’t feel like exile.

It felt like a door I’d chosen to walk through.