The Rejected Luna's Secret Twins

The white piece of paper in Elena's trembling hands felt heavier than the solid gold throne of the Darkwood Pack. Her eyes were fixed on the black, bold writing on the official letterhead of the clinic. Her heart beat a frantic, joyful rhythm against her ribs. Pregnancy Status: Positive. Number of Fetuses: 2 (Twins). Twins. She was having twins! A broad smile lit up Elena’s face, driving away the weariness of the last few weeks. For three years, she’d been the whispered mockery of the Darkwood Pack—the "weak Omega" who’d somehow lucked into becoming the mate of the most ruthless Alpha in the region, Asher Blackwood. Behind her back, they called her a barren curse, wondering when their powerful Alpha would finally cast her out. But they had no idea. Tonight, at the grand banquet celebrating the victory over the rival Silver Fangs, she would give Asher the ultimate blessing. An heir to his throne. Actually, two. Elena folded the paper carefully and slipped it into the hidden inner pocket of her velvet tunic. "Asher will be so happy," she whispered to herself. She could already see the warmth returning to his icy grey eyes, the way his strong, scarred hands would gently cup her waist. He’d been so distant lately, wrapped up in alpha duties and the ever-present Chloe, his childhood friend and the pack's head healer. But this... this would make everything right. Elena avoided the main roads, taking a serpentine shortcut through the Whispering Woods. The sun was setting, bruising the sky in shades of purple and crimson. The crisp air smelled faintly of roasting meats and pine—the banquet had commenced. Her pace increased, but she was brought to a halt by an unnatural stillness. The birds had ceased to sing. The wind dropped. “Run, Elena!” Usually silent and fragile, her inner wolf suddenly panicked, scratching at her consciousness. She didn't have time to process the warning before a heavy dark mass slammed into her from the side. She hit the ground, gasping for breath as the acrid smell of rogue wolves filled her nose. Three large, pitch-black wolves stepped out from the shadows. "Who sent you?" Elena's voice shook. Her instincts kicked in, and she crossed her arms over her belly protectively. "Demand it!" The largest wolf snarled, lunging forward. Elena ducked left, her Omega reflexes saving her throat by a hair's breadth, but the wolf's razor-sharp claws raked her tunic. The fabric ripped from her shoulder to her waist, revealing her pale skin to the biting cold air. The second wolf snapped at her heels. Elena vaulted over a fallen log and rolled down a steep bank. Briers and thorns rent her skin, shredding her clothes further until she was matted with dirt, blood, and sweat. As she forced her body to run towards the distant lights of the castle, her silver heirloom necklace snagged on a heavy branch. It was the ancestral crest Asher’s late mother had given her—the ultimate sign of her standing as the rightful Luna. Snap. The chain snapped, dropping into the dark underbrush. "No! My necklace!" Elena cried out. Hearing the heavy thuds of paws behind her, she had no choice. She fled for her life, abandoning the sacred relic. Her maternal instinct screamed louder than her grief. I have to save my babies. I have to get to Asher. Ten minutes later, Elena burst through the tree line. Ahead rose the towering stone walls of Blackwood Castle, its windows blazing with golden light and trembling with the sound of music. She dragged her battered body up the steps. Her velvet tunic hung in shreds, barely clinging to her body, exposing her scratched skin and torn undergarments. Her hair was a mess of matted twigs and dried blood. She looked like a madwoman, a rogue cast out in disgrace. But she didn’t mind. She was alive. Her babies were safe. With her last ounce of strength, Elena shoved the heavy oak doors of the grand banquet hall. "Asher!" she cried, her voice a breathless sob. The doors swung open with a heavy groan. The lively music, the clink of crystal glasses, and the boisterous laughter suddenly ceased. A thick, dead silence descended on the vast hall. Hundreds of eyes turned to the entrance. Through the sweat and blood running down her forehead, Elena blinked, searching for her husband. She waited for him to roar in fury at whoever dared touch his mate. She expected him to rush down from the high dais and wrap his cloak around her shivering, exposed body. Instead, the looks cast upon her were filled with pure disgust, burning hatred, and seething fury. "Look at her… how dare she even show her face?" a pack warrior spat. "Disgraceful. A traitor," a senior elder muttered, spitting on the floor. Elena froze. "Asher…?" she whispered, glancing up at the high dais. And there he stood. Asher Blackwood. He was magnificent and terrifying in his formal black clothes, his broad shoulders stiff, his jaw clenched so hard the muscles jumped. But his gray eyes, normally cool and calculating, were aflame with a terrible, demonic rage. He wasn't worried about her ripped clothes or her bleeding wounds. He was staring at her as though she were a monster. "Elena." The sound of Asher’s voice rang through the hall with the crushing weight of an Alpha command. Elena’s knees buckled, and she dropped to the cold stone floor. "How dare you come back here after what you have done?" "What... what I've done?" Elena stammered, tears finally spilling down her bruised cheeks. "Asher, they ambushed me in the woods! I was lucky to get out—" "Cut the lies!" Asher roared, leaping off the dais. His footsteps echoed like thunderclaps. He stepped forward, and the crowd parted in the center of the room. Elena's breath caught in her throat; her blood ran cold. There was Chloe, sitting on a plush velvet sofa brought down from the medical wing. Her face was white as death, her eyes red with tears, her hands clutching at her stomach. But the most horrible sight was the bright crimson stain spreading across the skirt of her white silk dress. A pool of fresh, undeniable blood. "Chloe..." Elena whispered, horrified. "Don't say her name!" Asher growled, stepping between Elena and the sofa, blocking her view. His chest heaved with a terrible rage. "They caught you conspiring with foreign wolves on the border while your accomplice slipped into the castle. Elena... Chloe was attacked. Your jealousy has taken my child. The future of this pack." Elena shook her head wildly, her hands grasping her torn clothes. "No! Impossible, Asher! I was at the clinic! I was hunted before I left the territory! I never touched her!" "We found your Luna crest at the scene of the ambush where Chloe was attacked, Elena," Asher said, his voice dropping into a dangerous, deadly whisper that chilled her to the marrow of her bones. He reached into his pocket and held up the silver heirloom necklace—the one she had lost in the woods. "Your scent is all over this. Your treason is obvious." Elena looked at the necklace, then back to Asher's merciless eyes, and finally to Chloe. Through her tears of pretended grief, Chloe looked directly at Elena for a fleeting second. A slow, cruel smile curved the corners of her mouth. It was a trap. A web of doom perfectly woven. And Elena, with her clothes torn, her necklace gone, and her hands empty, was caught right in the middle.