Claimed by the Alpha I Hate

Untitled Episode

The wind carried a whisper through the trees of Emeritus Forest soft at first, like a forgotten lullaby. But beneath its gentle sound was something darker. A warning. A wound.

Long ago, before the soil was soaked with blood and the stars feared the howls of their children, the wolves of Emeritus lived in delicate harmony. They hunted beneath silver skies, ruled by a sacred balance passed down through the veins of their Alphas. The moon was not just their goddess, it was their law. She chose leaders. She carved destinies. And she demanded obedience.

But peace is fragile where pride and prophecy meet.

Her name was Seraphina.

And she was the first to challenge the moon.

Seraphina was born beneath a lunar eclipse the rarest of nights, where the moon bleeds into shadow. The moment her cry pierced the air, the Seers whispered that her life would never be ordinary. Her mother, a respected warrior, died hours after her birth. Her father, a silent and brooding hunter, raised her alone, never speaking of the death that hung over their home like morning mist.

From the beginning, Seraphina burned too brightly. Her eyes glowed like molten gold, her spirit defied even the gentlest of commands. As a child, she refused the strict customs forced upon the she-wolves of the pack.

While others were taught to submit, Seraphina asked, “Why should I?” She hunted with the males before she turned ten. She challenged older wolves in training duels. She climbed cliffs no one dared to touch, and she stood at council gatherings, questioning laws written in blood.

The elders said she was dangerous. The males said she was too wild. The other she-wolves watched her with a mix of awe and fear.

But the moon? The moon said nothing.

Until she turned seventeen.

That year, the stars aligned in the shape of a mark long foretold in ancient scrolls the Flame Sigil. It was said that when the Flame returned, a she-wolf would rise to either save the pack from destruction... or cause it.

And Seraphina bore the mark, etched into her skin just above her heart three curling lines of crimson that shimmered under moonlight.

Within weeks, the elders declared her the Fated Luna. She was to be bonded with the future Alpha of the PackDominic Vane. A cold, brutal male twice her age, feared by many, respected by all. The union would make her Queen of the Wolves. Her place would be beside him. Her voice would be silenced behind his power. Her body, his possession.

Seraphina stood before the pack on the night of the ceremony. Dressed in white, the moon watching, the fire roaring behind her.

And she said one word:

“No.”

The silence that followed her defiance was louder than a thousand howls.

Dominic’s face twisted into something inhuman. The elders’ eyes burned with disbelief. She was dragged away from the altar, stripped of her title, and cast out of the sacred ranks.

But Seraphina didn’t weep.

Because her heart had already been claimed.

By a human

His name was Elias Maren, a botanist who had come to Raven’s Peak from the city to study forest ecosystems. He had met Seraphina by accident, deep in the woods, when she was in wolf form injured from a fight with rogues. Instead of running in fear, he approached her slowly, whispering calming words and offering his jacket. She shifted back that night, naked and bleeding, and he still did not run.

They had fallen in love in secret.

He brought her books, poetry, and soft flannel shirts. She showed him how the forest breathed, how the stars spoke. They built a life in quiet places. They made promises with their hands instead of ceremonies. He had kissed her flame mark and told her she was not a curse, she was a beginning.

They planned to leave. To disappear. To abandon the old ways and live on the edge of the world, human and wolf, soul and fire.

But love is the most hunted thing in all the wild.

The pack found them days before their escape. They dragged Elias from his cabin, beating him until he could no longer speak. Seraphina arrived too late. They had tied him to a tree, carved warnings into his chest, and left him for the crows.

She collapsed at his feet, her screams so fierce they cracked the air. Her hands shook as she held his lifeless body. Blood soaked the earth. Her soul shattered.

They came for her next.

Bound in chains, broken from grief, Seraphina was brought before the Moon Stone, a sacred altar where executions were carried out in silence. Dominic stood over her with a silver dagger and a sneer.

“Any last words, traitor?” he growled.

And Seraphina lifted her head, her eyes glowing brighter than any full moon, and whispered a curse.

“Let the moon bear witness: I die for love. But one will rise with fire in her veins. She will burn your throne to ash. She will love the one she is meant to hate. And he will kneel, or he will die.”

Then she lunged forward, biting Dominic’s face with her final breath, marking him with her blood before he plunged the blade into her heart.

Her body burned under the moonlight. The flames turned blue. The wind howled louder than ever before.

The wolves buried what happened that night beneath lies.

They told the story differently.

They erased her name from the scrolls.

But the moon never forgot.

And the mark of the Flame returned.

Years later, in a hospital near the edge of Raven’s Peak, a child was born during another eclipse. A girl. Screaming loud enough to shake the windows.

Her mother died during childbirth. Her father disappeared the night after she came into the world.

She was raised in the shadows. Fierce. Untamed. Defiant.

Her name… was Susan Rivera.

And the curse had found its vessel.

For years, the wolves of Emeritus pretended the curse never existed.

They spoke of Seraphina as a traitor. A madwoman. A threat to tradition who met a rightful end. Her love for a human was twisted into a scandal stain on the Pack’s honor. No one spoke her name in public. And if they did, they whispered it at night, under breath, fearing the wind would carry their voices to the wrong ears.

But in the quiet hours between dusk and dawn, the land remembered.

The trees she once climbed grew twisted and black at the roots.

The Moon Stone where her blood spilled refused to grow moss.

Even the animals grew restless when the moon turned red.

Elder wolves who had once fought beside Seraphina warned that her fire had not been extinguished, only passed forward. They spoke of dreams: visions of gold-eyed girls walking in shadow, of flames rising in the shape of a wolf, of an Alpha brought to his knees by the one he tried to break.

But no one listened.

Until the night the mark returned.

The birth of Susan Rivera did not make headlines. There were no scrolls, no ceremonies, no proud Pack fathers lifting their pups to the sky. She was born in a rundown hospital on the edge of Raven’s Peak. No pack midwives. No howling outside the window. Just silence. And blood.

Her mother, Amara Rivera, had arrived in the middle of a rainstorm. She was barefoot, pale, and silent. She spoke only once, right before the contractions began.

“She’s not just mine,” she said to the nurse, her eyes unfocused. “She belongs to the forest. To the moon. Don’t let them take her.”

Her daughter entered the world screaming a sharp, furious cry that startled every nurse in the room. Her eyes opened immediately, and they were gold. Not amber. Not hazel. Gold.

When Amara saw her, she smiled once.

And then died.

No one knew who the father was. No one came to claim the child.

A caseworker gave her the name Susan. No last name on file for the father. She was placed into a foster home by the time she was five days old.

But the curse was already alive inside her.

By the age of three, she could hear things no one else heard. Voices in the trees. Songs in the wind. The whisper of wolves even though none were in sight.

By seven, she had broken a classmate’s arm after he pulled her hair. The teacher claimed she’d seen Susan’s eyes glow in the dark.

By ten, she was in her third foster home.

They said she was violent. Distant. Emotionally unstable.

But Susan wasn’t broken. She was awakened.

Every full moon brought nightmares she couldn’t explain. She dreamed of a woman with golden eyes and fire in her chestrunning, bleeding, dying.

She woke up screaming. Every. Single. Time.

Her foster parents took her to therapists. Gave her pills. Labeled her with things: aggression, trauma, oppositional disorder.

But no one told her the truth.

That she was a wolf.

That her soul was ancient.

That her blood was sacred.

That the curse of the moon had chosen her.

Somewhere in the heart of Emeritus Forest, the elders gathered under a waning crescent. They sat in a circle around the old fire, robes draped over their shoulders, eyes filled with dread.

“The mark has returned,” one of them said.

“It cannot be,” another whispered. “The flame was extinguished”

“No,” said the oldest of them all, her voice shaking. “It has been waiting.”

A scroll was unrolled in silence. The prophecy. The words written in blood and sealed with ash.

“When the flame returns, she will rise again.

The child of rebellion. The daughter of fire.

She will defy the Alpha, challenge the blood, and love the one she is sworn to hate.

And through her, the moon shall choose once more.”

One elder stood.

“Then we must find her. Kill her, before it’s too late.”

But the wind blew hard through the clearing.

And from deep within the forest, a howl echoed long and high and piercing.

Not a male’s.

A she-wolf.

And she was awake.

Far away, in a bedroom above a quiet foster home, a sixteen-year-old girl sat by her window, staring at the moon.

Her name was Susan Rivera.

And without knowing why, her hand drifted to her chest, tracing a strange red mark that had appeared two weeks ago.

It shimmered in the light.

Three curling linesone for blood, one for fire, one for fate.

And outside, the wind whispered her name like a warning and a promise.

“Susan… Susan… Susan…”