Xander's Rejected Luna

Chains of servitude

Waking up in a stranger’s room sent a jolt through me, my body aching as if I’d been dragged through thorns. The sheets beneath me were rough, unfamiliar, and the faint scent of cedar lingered in the air. Where the hell am I? My head throbbed, memories of last night a hazy blur—running from the cellar, Gina’s whispered escape, the wild party in the woods. I rubbed my temples, wincing at the stiffness in my shoulders, and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. The floor was cold under my bare feet, and I stood, every muscle protesting as I stumbled toward the door.

Stepping out, I froze. The sight hit me like a punch to the gut—Alpha Lucas’s pack house loomed ahead, its dark wooden frame stark against the morning light. My ex-mate’s territory. My breath caught, a mix of dread and disbelief swirling in my chest.

How did I end up here? The man from last night flashed in my mind—tall, broad, his voice a deep rumble claiming me as his. I couldn’t see his face in the dark, just the outline of his leather-clad shoulders and that piercing tone. My wolf giggled in my head again, a playful nudge that made me frown. Did I miss something? I shook my head, trying to clear the fog, but the ache in my body told me I’d been carried here, somehow.

I had to get back. Panic spurred me into a limping run, the cool air biting at my skin as I darted through the trees. By the time I reached home, my legs trembled, and the pack house door creaked open to reveal Claire waiting, her arms crossed and her lips pursed. Her auburn hair was pulled back tight, accentuating the sharp angles of her face, and her green eyes glinted with cold fury. “Where have you been, you little wretch?” she snapped, her voice like cracking ice. Before I could answer, her hand lashed out, striking my cheek with a stinging slap. I stumbled, tasting blood, my hand flying to my face.

“Thought you could run, did you?” she hissed, grabbing my arm and yanking me inside. The familiar scent of mildew and old wood enveloped me as she shoved me toward the kitchen. “You’ll pay for that.” My heart sank, but I bit my lip, refusing to cry out. Claire’s punishment was swift—hours of scrubbing the grimy floors, my knees bruising against the hardwood, my hands turning red and raw from the harsh soap. Each swipe of the brush felt like an echo of her disdain, and I kept my head down, avoiding her watchful glare.

Kira sauntered in mid-morning, her black hair cascading over her shoulders like silk, her slender frame draped in a new dress—likely a gift from Lucas. She leaned against the counter, twirling a strand of hair around her finger, her green eyes mocking me. “Lucas can’t stop talking about me,” she said, her voice dripping with smugness. “He says I’m the perfect Luna. You were just a mistake, Jasmine.” Her laugh was a sharp blade, cutting into the wound Lucas left last night. I gripped the brush tighter, my knuckles whitening, but I stayed silent, the memory of Mama’s sacrifice fueling a quiet fire in my chest. She’d died protecting me from rogues, her blood staining this very yard, and here I was, scrubbing floors for the woman who replaced her.

My thoughts drifted to that night, Mama’s golden hair falling over her face as she shielded me, her last breath a promise I couldn’t fulfil. The pack called me a demon because of her, a curse I carried like a second skin. I scrubbed harder, the ache in my hands a distraction from the ache in my soul. Escape. The word pulsed in my mind, a desperate chant. I had to get out, had to find a way to rise above this.

A soft rustle broke my focus, and I glanced up to see Gina slipping into the room. Her small frame moved with quiet grace, her brown curls bouncing as she knelt beside me, pretending to adjust a rag. Her dark eyes met mine, warm and conspiratorial, and she pressed a folded note into my palm. “Read it later,” she murmured, her voice barely a whisper. I nodded, tucking it into my sleeve, my pulse quickening with hope.

When Claire’s back was turned, barking orders at a guard, I unfolded the note under the table. The scrawled words leapt off the paper: Kira’s Luna coronation. Your chance to escape, this is all I can do to repay your kindness. My breath hitched.

A coronation for Kira? The thought twisted my stomach, but the promise of a chance, any chance, lit a spark in me. I crumpled the note, hiding it in my fist, and resumed scrubbing, my mind racing.

Could I do it? Could I face that crowd again?

The day dragged on, each hour a battle against exhaustion. Kira kept circling, her taunts growing bolder. “Lucas kissed me last night,” she said, leaning close, her breath hot against my ear. “Said I taste better than you ever could.” I clenched my jaw, my hands trembling with the urge to shove her away, but I stayed still, letting her words wash over me. She laughed again, strutting off, and I exhaled, my thoughts turning inward. Lucas’s rejection stung, but Kira’s gloating hurt more, proof of the life I’d lost.

By evening, my hands were cracked and bleeding, the floors gleaming under my effort. Claire finally relented, ordering me to my room, but not before locking the door behind me. I sank onto the thin mattress, the springs creaking under my weight, and pulled the note from my sleeve. My wolf stirred, her voice a gentle nudge. Go, Jasmine. This is your moment. I nodded to myself, tracing the words with a shaky finger. A coronation party meant Lucas and Kira would be distracted, the pack distracted. It was risky, but the thought of freedom, of proving them all wrong pushed me to my feet.

I rummaged through a cracked drawer, finding an old cloak Mama had left me, its faded blue fabric soft against my skin. Slipping it on, I moved to the window, prying it open with a groan. The drop was short, and I landed with a soft thud, my body protesting, but my spirit soaring. The night air was cool, carrying the distant sound of music and laughter from the woods. My heart thudded as I crept toward it.

The coronation party came into view, a swirl of shadows and torchlight, the pack gathered around a makeshift stage where Kira stood, her dress shimmering like a queen’s. Lucas was beside her, his arm possessive around her waist, his hazel eyes scanning the crowd. I stayed at the edge, my cloak hood pulled low, my breath shallow. Gina’s note had been right this was my chance. But as I watched, a guard patrolled closer, his heavy boots crunching leaves. I ducked behind a tree, my pulse racing, and waited.

Before I could turn my back, Kira’s friends hijacked me. What's with them?

What do you want with me?