The Alpha's Regret: Forsaken, then Favoured

The moon is full. My twenty-first birthday. And I have no wolf. I stand in the center of the pack circle, two hundred wolves staring at me like I’m already dead. Their eyes glow gold, amber, red. Mine are just… brown. Human. Empty. Alpha Killian Blackwood steps forward. My fated mate. The man who kissed my neck three nights ago and whispered “forever.” He won’t look at me now. “Luna Nightshade,” he says, and his voice carries across the frozen clearing. “You have reached the age of shifting. Yet no wolf answers your call.” My throat closes. “I’m a late bloomer. It happens—” “It doesn’t happen to fated mates of Alphas.” His jaw is granite. “You are wolf-less. A curse. A shame on this pack.” Behind him, Seraphina stands with her hand on her belly. Three months pregnant. She doesn’t bother hiding her smile. I know that child isn’t his. I caught her with the Beta two weeks ago. But when I told Killian, he called me a jealous liar. Now she’s glowing. And I’m nothing. “I reject you,” Killian says. The words hit my chest like a silver blade. My knees buckle. The bond—the invisible golden thread that tied my soul to his—snaps. I feel it tear. I feel me tear. I don’t scream. I refuse to. “The pack votes,” he continues. “Majority rules. Raise your hand if you believe Luna Nightshade should be banished at dawn.” Hands go up. Dozens. Then hundreds. My own mother lowers her eyes and raises her trembling hand. My father. My childhood best friend. The old woman who taught me to read. All of them. Seventy-three hands. Fourteen against. Killian doesn’t count. He just nods. “Banishment is granted.” My voice comes out raw. “You’re not just rejecting me. You’re killing me. The bond break will—" “You should have thought of that before you cursed this pack with your emptiness.” I laugh. It’s a broken, ugly sound. “Cursed? I scrubbed your floors. I fought your rogues with a kitchen knife. I bled for this pack since I was twelve. And you call me cursed because my wolf is late?” No one meets my eyes. Seraphina steps forward, all honeyed venom. “Don’t blame them, Luna. You were never good enough for him. Everyone knew it.” I look at Killian. “Is this what you want? To stand next to a liar while she destroys your only real mate?” His wolf flickers in his eyes—gold for a second. But then Seraphina touches his arm, and the gold dies. “You’re exiled,” he says. “Be gone by sunrise.” I should walk away. I should crawl into the snow and die with dignity. But I’m already dead inside. So I do something reckless. I lift my shirt. The pack gasps. My belly isn’t flat. It’s round. Small but undeniable. Four months along. “I’m pregnant,” I say. “With your pup, Killian.” Silence. Then Seraphina’s face twists. Killian’s eyes drop to my stomach. For one heartbeat—just one—I see terror. Then he masks it. “A wolf-less pup,” he says coldly. “Still a curse.” “It’s your blood.” “My blood doesn’t belong in a rogue.” He turns his back. “The pack has spoken. Leave.” No one defends me. Not one wolf steps forward. My mother is crying into her hands. My father is gone—probably already at the tavern. My best friend Mila won’t even look up. I drop my shirt. I pull my coat tight. And I walk. The snow starts as I pass the border. Soft at first. Then sharp. Then a wall of white that eats the moonlight. I don’t know where I’m going. The nearest town is thirty miles. I have no food, no water, no shoes fit for this cold. Just a thin jacket and a pup who doesn’t deserve to die inside me. Three miles out, I collapse behind a fallen oak. The wind screams. My fingers are blue. My lips split open. The baby kicks—weakly, like it’s already giving up. This is it, I think. This is how the curse ends. Frozen. Forgotten. I close my eyes. And then I hear footsteps. Not wolves. Not humans. Something heavier. Something old. A woman’s face appears above me. She’s ancient—wrinkles like tree bark, eyes the color of molten silver. She wears a cloak made of starlight. Or maybe I’m already hallucinating. “You’re not wolf-less, child,” she whispers. “You’re Lycan.” I try to laugh. I cough blood instead. “The Lycan line died out two hundred years ago.” “No.” She lifts me like I weigh nothing. “It hid. And you, Luna Nightshade, are the last heir to the Lycan throne. Your wolf has been sleeping. Waiting for your twenty-first year.” “I’m twenty-one today. There’s no wolf.” The old woman smiles. “The sun hasn’t risen yet. Your birthday isn’t over.” She carries me through the blizzard. I fade in and out. The last thing I see before blackness is her hand pressed to my belly—and a golden glow spreading from my womb. The pup shifted inside me. When I wake, I’m in a cabin made of black stone. A fire roars. My clothes are dry. And something is different. I look down. My hands are gone. In their place are claws. Massive. Obsidian. Gleaming like wet oil. I rush to a mirror. A wolf stares back. Not a normal wolf. A beast the size of a horse, fur black as void, eyes burning silver. My snout drips with ancient runes. My ears are crowned with what looks like frozen moonlight. I shift back with a thought. Human again. But my eyes—my eyes are still silver. The old woman hands me a bowl of broth. “You shifted for eleven seconds. For a first shift, that’s remarkable. Most Lycans take years to manage one second.” “I’m Lycan?” “Your father was the Lycan King. Your mother was a wolf of this pack. They hid you here when the Shadow King murdered your father’s bloodline. You were spelled to appear wolf-less until your twenty-first birthday.” I touch my belly. The pup kicks—strong now. Healthy. “What do I do?” The old woman’s silver eyes harden. “You survive. You train. And then you go back to that pack and remind them what a real Luna looks like.” Outside, the blizzard stops. Inside, I feel something rise in my chest. Not anger. Not yet. Hunger. --- END OF EPISODE 1 --- Would you forgive Alpha Killian? Comment YES or NO. If you want him to suffer, type ‘GROVEL’.”