The Alpha My Sister Threw Away

The moonlight was clean and white tonight. And I was on my way to do something filthy. I was wearing my sister Celeste’s Luna gown, her veil over my face, her perfume on my skin. I was walking toward her fiancé’s room to complete the Luna Soothing Rite that belonged to her. I stood before the gates of Blackmoor Manor. Night wind slipped through the gaps in the black iron gate, cold as a hand against the back of my neck. My fingers clenched too tightly around my skirt, leaving thin creases in the silver-white fabric of the Luna gown. I knew that once I stepped into this manor, what waited inside might become a stain I could never wash away. But what right did I have to stop? Of all the choices Celeste gave me, not one was safe. Not one left me clean. So I could only move forward. Beyond this gate, inside the lie Celeste had forced me to wear, I had to find an exit that would let me walk out whole. An hour earlier, when Celeste told me to complete the soothing rite between her and her Alpha in her place, I thought she was joking. She sat before her vanity, slowly removing one pearl earring. Lamplight touched the side of her face, clean, beautiful, calm, as if the person being sent into that room tonight was not her at all. “Put the gown on her,” she said. The maids immediately came toward me. I froze. “What?” Celeste looked at me through the mirror, one brow lifting slightly. “Do not make me repeat myself, Mira.” A maid reached for the buttons of my dress. I jerked back. “Mother?” I turned to Mother, who stood by the window. She did not frown. She did not stop them. She only set a small silver cup on the table. Inside it was a pale purple liquid. A sweet, heavy floral scent spilled out at once. I did not know what it was. But my body rejected it before I did. “Mother, I cannot go.” Mother finally gave me her eyes. Her expression was calm. So calm it was as if she was not sending me into another man’s room, but only asking me to remove a silver hairpin for Celeste. “You can,” she said. “And you will.” I turned to Celeste. She was still sitting before the vanity, slowly removing the other pearl earring, without a trace of hesitation in her movements. “You really want me to go?” She glanced at me through the mirror, as if she had finally heard something irritating enough to deserve her attention. “What? You still do not understand what he is now?” I said nothing. She turned around, a small, cruel smile on her lips. “He is not the Adrian Blackmoor people used to fear.” She stood. Her ivory robe dragged softly across the floor. “The Council keeps him under silver. They write stability reports on him like he is some diseased animal. He cannot leave Blackmoor without permission. Even the outer Packs no longer treat him as a real threat.” She walked up to me and looked down at the plain dress I had not yet changed out of. “Do you think I will go there myself? Do you think I will lay my hands on an Alpha who cannot even control his own wolf?” My fingers tightened. “But he is your fiancé.” Celeste looked like I had offered her something ridiculous. “My fiancé is a title, Mira. A position.” She raised her hand and gently brushed a strand of hair from my shoulder. The movement was almost tender. Almost cruel. “And you are my helper.” I went still. Her voice lowered slightly. “Are you still not used to it? Everything I do not want to touch, you handle for me.” I stared at her. “This is different.” The smile faded from Celeste’s face. “No. It is not.” Her gaze moved to the Luna gown in the maid’s hands. “His room is full of wounds, silver, and Council eyes. I will not step into it.” Then she looked back at me. “So you will.” Mother picked up the small silver cup and walked toward me. “Vale cannot lose this Luna title.” I did not take it. Mother did not raise her voice, but it grew colder than before. “Your father left debts. The border contract must be renewed next month. Half the families who still greet us are waiting to see whether Celeste can stand beside Blackmoor.” She held the cup closer. “If your sister refuses to go, then you will go for her.” My stomach tightened. “You will help her keep this title.” Help her keep this title. Just as I helped her remember the rules. Helped her handle silver. Helped her take care of the trouble Mother did not want Celeste to touch. But this time, it was not a silver hairpin. It was not a button on a gown. It was not another Luna lesson Celeste had forgotten to memorize. This was an Alpha locked in a blood-moon chamber by the Council. I looked at Mother. “If he is unstable,” I said, “what if he does something to me?” The room went quiet for a moment. Mother did not answer. Celeste laughed. The sound was soft. Empty. “Then that would be your honor.” I looked up at her. She leaned against the vanity, her fingertips slowly brushing over her pearl earring, as if she had finally found the reason that should make me stop arguing. “It would mean you are still useful.” The words pressed against my ribs. I was not her sister. Not a daughter of Vale. I was something she could still use. “Why me?” I asked. Celeste looked at me as if she had finally heard the stupidest question of the night. She smiled. “Stupid question, Mira.” My fingers froze against my skirt. She stepped closer and lightly tapped my shoulder with one fingertip. “Always you.” After saying those two words, she was truly happy. It was not false tenderness. It was not the polished grace she wore in front of Mother. Her eyes brightened, and the corner of her mouth lifted slightly, as if she had finally put a troublesome thing back where it belonged. When those two words fell, the last warmth in me went cold. Not because I was especially suitable. Not because I truly had a choice. Only because it had always been me. When she did not want to touch silver, I touched it for her. When she did not want to face blame, I stood in front of it for her. Now, when she did not want to enter that room, I was the one being sent in. Maybe she saw what was in my eyes. Her smile faded, and her gaze slowly turned cold. “You can walk there yourself,” she said, “or I can have them bind you and send you there.” The room went quiet. I could hear myself breathe. The maid’s hand was still pressed around my arm. Mother stood beside us and said nothing. Celeste smiled again. “But I would choose the first one.” Her eyes dropped to the Luna gown. “The gown wrinkles easily.” I closed my eyes. Celeste’s mistakes never stayed with Celeste. If she lost her future Luna position tonight, then the person who ruined her future would also be me. Mother would say it. Celeste would say it. Everyone in the Vale family would say it. And I was already standing inside that gown. Standing before the gates of Blackmoor Manor. Not because I had agreed. Because among the choices they gave me, none was called refusal. Walk there myself, or be dragged there. Come back alive, or be given to someone else. I chose the one that looked like it might let me survive one more night. The corridor held the kind of chill that lived in stone. But that cup of medicine burned inside me. The heat pressed from my throat down to my chest. It was not violent, but it would not go out. Celeste’s white-rose scent clung to my neck, my wrists, and the inside of my skirt, so sweet it made me sick. She had ordered the maids to spray it again and again, as if enough perfume could truly turn me into her. I was not here to wear Celeste’s Luna glory for her. As long as the people outside recorded that Celeste had completed the soothing rite, Vale would not collapse tonight. Mother would not press the blame onto me yet. Celeste would not say yet that I was the one who destroyed her future Luna position. I had to get through tonight. At the end of the black-stone corridor, that door drew closer and closer. An old servant stood outside. When he saw me, he immediately lowered his head, his manners flawless. “Lady Celeste,” he said, “Alpha Blackmoor is waiting.” My throat tightened. I should have said I was not Celeste. But tonight, every single thing on me was lying for her. I lifted my head to the door before me. The Blackmoor crest was carved into the dark wood. A black wolf lowered its head, fangs half-bared, as if it was waiting for me on the other side. From beneath the door came the scent of cold pine, rusted iron, bitter herbs, silver, and wolf instinct forced down by sheer control. It was heavy. Heavy, like an injured wolf choking against a chain. But it still had not lowered its head. I finally understood that the terror in Celeste’s words might not have been entirely exaggerated. The old servant raised his hand and knocked. Once. Twice. There was no immediate answer from inside. The corridor was quiet enough for me to hear my own heartbeat. My fingers hid in the folds of my skirt, so cold they were almost numb. At last, the door opened. No one pulled it from inside. It opened as if pushed by some invisible force, the hinges giving a low, hoarse sound. The old servant stepped aside. “Go in, my lady.” I walked in. The door closed behind me. The corridor lights, the servant’s breathing, and every rule I could still understand were shut outside. Inside, there was only the fading dark light of the blood moon, the scent of bitter herbs, and the Alpha waiting in the shadows. The Alpha my sister did not want.