The Rejected Luna’s Secret Heir

Exile Into the Cabins

Wren’s POV

The eastern border cabins were where the Ashvane pack sent the people they wanted to forget. The gravel road ended a mile back, leaving nothing but mud, rotting cedar leaves, and dense fog that never seemed to clear. The trees here grew so close together that they blocked out the afternoon sky, turning the entire area into a dark, airless cage.

I dropped my single canvas duffel bag onto the damp porch of cabin four. The wood groaned under my weight, and the rusted metal roof dripped brown water onto the steps. This place was the absolute edge of the territory, just a short walk away from the neutral zone where the rogue wolves hunted.

“You have got to be kidding me,” a voice groaned from inside the doorway.

I looked up, pushing my damp black hair out of my eyes. Valerie stood in the dark threshold, holding a clipboard and looking at me like I was a piece of trash that had washed up on her porch. She had been assigned to oversee the border workers as part of her office duties, and clearly, she was not happy about the damp air ruining her expensive clothes.

“What did you do to get kicked out of the main house, Wren?” Valerie asked, stepping out and letting the screen door slam shut behind her. “I turn my back for ten minutes, and Jaxon is tossing your bags into a security truck.”

I did not answer her. I kept my lips pressed together and picked up my bag, trying to walk past her into the cabin.

Valerie stepped directly into my path, her narrow brown eyes drilling into mine. She smelled like cheap vanilla perfume and heavy office hairspray. She grabbed my arm, her long nails digging through the fabric of my old jacket until it pinched my skin.

“I am talking to you,” Valerie hissed, her voice dropping into that familiar, spiteful tone she used whenever we were alone. “You think you are special because the Beta personally brought you down here? You are an Omega. You will always be an Omega. Go inside and start cleaning the wood stoves. If the cabins are cold when the night guards arrive, I will make sure you do not get a dinner token.”

I pulled my arm back from her grip, refusing to let her see the tremor in my fingers. “I will get to work,” I murmured to the floor.

She let out a sharp, mocking laugh and walked toward the administrative shack, her boots squelching loudly in the deep mud.

Inside, the cabin was small and smelled heavily of damp wool and old ash. A single cot sat in the corner, covered in a thin, gray blanket that looked decades old. There were no marble floors here. There was no heating. There was only a heavy, iron stove in the center of the room and a small window that looked out into the black line of the forest.

I dropped my bag on the floor and sat on the edge of the cot. The moment I was completely alone, the silence pressed down on my ears. My chest felt tight, and every breath felt like I was inhaling cold water.

He threw us away, my wolf whispered, her voice sounding small and broken in the back of my mind. He felt the bond, and he threw us into the dirt.

“Shut up,” I muttered aloud, pressing the palms of my hands against my eyes until I saw stars. “We do not need him. We were leaving anyway.”

He is our Alpha, she protested, scratching weakly against my thoughts. The cedar smell. It is still on our skin. He touched us.

I rubbed my chin where Rurik’s large, scarred fingers had gripped me in the foyer. The skin still felt hot, like an invisible brand left behind by his touch. The memory made a sudden wave of anger burn through my stomach. He was the King. He had everything, including a beautiful, high society fiancée waiting for him in the conference room. He did not want a broken servant girl messing up his perfect corporate life, and his uncle Silas was right about one thing. I was a nobody to them.

I stood up, determined to drown out the voice of my wolf. I grabbed a metal bucket from the corner and walked back out onto the porch to fetch wood for the stove. The rain had stopped, but the fog was growing thicker, rolling over the grass like white smoke.

As I reached the woodpile near the edge of the trees, the heavy sound of a powerful engine echoed from the gravel road.

A bright red sports car tore through the mist, its tires throwing mud all over the wooden fence. It looked completely ridiculous out here in the wilderness, like a flashy human toy dropped into a graveyard. The engine died with a loud purr, and the gull wing door swung upward.

A guy stepped out, shaking his messy dark hair out of his eyes. He wore an expensive leather jacket and human designer jeans, carrying himself with an easy, arrogant posture that felt entirely different from Rurik’s rigid strength.

It was Gabriel Ashvane, the King’s younger brother.

Gabriel looked around the muddy camp with a disgusted smirk, his storm gray eyes landing on the rows of rotting cabins. He was supposed to be managing the luxury human resorts down south, but everyone in the pack knew he spent most of his time running away from pack meetings and fighting with the elders.

His eyes shifted across the yard and locked onto me. He stopped smirking, his gaze lingering on my face for a second too long. He walked over, his steps light and silent despite the thick mud.

“Well, well,” Gabriel said, his voice smooth and full of easy charm. He stopped a few feet away from the woodpile, leaning his shoulder against a pine tree. “I heard my brother had a total meltdown in the foyer today and exiled a maid to the swamp. I just had to come see who was special enough to make Rurik lose his mind.”

I kept my head down, picking up a heavy log of pine and dropping it into my bucket. “I am just doing my job, sir.”

“Don't do that,” Gabriel laughed, stepping closer until I could smell the expensive human cologne and fresh mint on his breath. He reached down and took the heavy log right out of my hands, tossing it effortlessly into the bucket. “No bowing. No sir stuff. I hate that pack garbage. Look at me, Wren.”

My head snapped up in surprise. “How do you know my name?”

“Jaxon talks when he gets stressed,” Gabriel said, a sharp, knowing glint appearing in his gray eyes. He scanned my face, his expression turning serious for a brief moment as his eyes dropped to my neck, where the invisible bond was fighting to settle. “My brother is an i***t. He lets Silas pull his strings because he is terrified of some old campfire prophecy. He thinks he can just lock you away down here and pretend you don't exist.”

A cold dread flooded my veins. Gabriel knew. If the King's brother knew about the mate bond, then the entire pack would find out soon. Lady Tahlia would find out.

“I don't know what you are talking about,” I whispered, gripping the handle of the bucket and trying to step past him.

Gabriel reached out, his hand gently catching the rim of my bucket to stop me. He did not touch my skin, but his posture blocked the path back to my cabin.

“I am on your side, Wren,” Gabriel said softly, his voice losing its playful edge. “Rurik wants to play the perfect King and marry Tahlia for the family business. But I don't give a damn about the Council. If you need a way out of this territory, you tell me. I have cars, I have money, and I have human IDs. I would love nothing more than to ruin Silas’s perfect little plan.”

Before I could answer, a loud, sharp horn blew from the main gate of the border camp.

Three heavy black trucks with tinted windows rolled through the fog, bearing the golden pinecone logo of the Vance Timber Corporation. The rival pack investors had arrived early for the boundary talks.

Gabriel’s jaw tightened as he looked toward the trucks, his eyes narrowing. “Speak of the devil. The Blackwoods are here. Go inside, Wren. Keep your head down. Things are about to get very messy out here.”

I did not wait for him to tell me twice. I grabbed my bucket of wood and ran back toward cabin four, my heart hammering against my ribs as the dark doors of the rival trucks began to open.