The Rejected Luna Is The Lycan King Surrogate

The Rejection

"You can't be the Luna anymore," he said, his voice cold and unyielding.

"B-But why?" I asked, my eyes wide with shock, my heart pounding like a war drum.

The door creaked open, and two women stepped out, brushing past me without a glance.

"What pack would accept a wolfless Luna?" Camila Drake's mother asked, her eyebrows scrunched, her voice dripping with disdain.

"God, we are saints for tolerating you," Raina Drake's sister added, her lips curling into a mocking sneer.

I couldn't believe they could say these things after years of our families being close. But now, suddenly, they saw me as less—less worthy, less important, less relevant.

"Now that you are the war hero," Camila continued, clearing her throat with an exaggerated flourish, "who fought our enemies—the werebears and the Lycan King—will be extremely impressed," she finished, her smile stretched wide, practically ignoring my existence entirely.

"We would be the strongest pack of them all," Raina boasted, staring at me with open contempt, as if daring me to challenge her.

"Gosh, I am so excited for the daughter of the Brooke pack to be our new Luna since she is already pregnant with the heir," Raina concluded, her words making Drake's face light up with a genuine, unashamed smile.

I froze, my mind struggling to process what I had just heard. He had left for the battlefront a year ago, and now he was back, not with me, not with the person who had stood by him through every hardship, but with someone else—my former best friend, Ariana.

My chest tightened, and my stomach churned as the weight of betrayal settled in. Years of dedication, loyalty, and love reduced to nothing more than ashes at their feet. My pack had been crumbling, and I had been there, fighting to keep it alive, and now, they wanted to throw me aside like some expired, worthless object.

At that moment, something inside me shattered. But instead of collapsing in despair, as I might have before, instead of allowing myself to weep uncontrollably, I felt something else awaken—a cold, sharp edge of resolve. The once soft, kind, and caring Sheila seemed to vanish, replaced by someone unrecognizable, someone stronger.

"They want to see the weak side of me," I told myself inwardly, my expression blank, my mind steel-sharp. "They want to make me vulnerable—but that part of me is dead. I won't let anyone trample on my dignity."

I lifted my chin and looked at Drake directly. "So, you are taking Ariana as your Luna now?" I asked, my voice calm, controlled, but with a dangerous undercurrent.

Before he could answer, his mother stepped forward, cutting him off. "Unlike you, she will lead us as a true Luna," she said with a smug, patronizing smirk.

"I'm so sorry, Sheila," she added, her words precise and calculated, "but I’m doing this for the growth of the pack."

That one phrase hit me like a physical blow. My throat tightened, and my vision blurred slightly, but I refused to let my emotions betray me.

The man who had once promised his heart to me had chosen someone else without a fight, without even considering me. The betrayal was staggering.

"So, what? You want a divorce?" I asked, raising an eyebrow, my tone deceptively casual, though my heart screamed in protest.

"I'm not divorcing you, Sheila," he said. "You can stay in the pack, okay? But you have to step down as Luna so Ariana can take the role," he continued, while his mother nodded approvingly, her expression smug and triumphant.

Hearing those words, my entire world crumbled. If this were a dream, I prayed I would wake up. But the pain was too real, too tangible.

Drake stepped closer, forcibly taking his emblem from my cloak. I fought the tears that threatened to spill, refusing to give them the satisfaction of seeing me broken.

I stared into his brown eyes, desperate for even the faintest flicker of hope, some sign that he still remembered us, still cared. But there was nothing. Only cold, empty indifference.

"I thought you loved me," I whispered, my voice trembling. His mother and sister cackled, loud and cruel, their laughter stabbing at my heart.

"Love is for children," his mother said bluntly, her words sharp like daggers. "We took you in out of pity compared to Ariana. You have nothing to offer."

I forced a smirk, letting the fire inside me burn hotter. "Oh? I have nothing to offer?" I thought, letting my mind reel with possibilities, with the growing strength I felt welling up from within.

THREE MONTHS AGO…

I had been sitting in front of the dressing table, wearing a light pink peignoir, delicately applying moisturizer to my face. My hands trembled slightly—not from fear, but anticipation.

And then she appeared. Maya. My wolf. Tall, transparent, ethereal. My heart skipped a beat. I had thought I had lost her forever the night of the m******e that had destroyed my family and pack. How could she still be alive?

I stood, eyes wide, staring at the figure. "Maya? Is that you?" I asked, barely daring to breathe, my voice trembling in disbelief.

"Yes, Sheila. Who else would it be?" she replied, a mocking smile dancing on her lips.

"I'm back," she announced, her voice full of warmth, yet stronger than ever.

"But… how?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. Maya had vanished that night, and now she stood here as if the gods themselves had given her a second chance.

"The Moon Goddess gave me a second life," Maya said simply. "We are stronger now."

PRESENT…

I smirked, straightening my clothing and staring at Drake with a cold, unreadable expression. My face was a mask of calm, betraying none of the storm within me.

"I want to meet your new Luna," I said, my voice smooth, deliberate.

The words hung in the air. Their eyes widened, surprise etched into every line of their faces. They had expected tears, weakness, despair—but instead, they found nothing. Not brokenness. Not desperation. Just the quiet, unyielding power of someone who had survived betrayal and loss and come out stronger.

They had no idea that this side of me even existed—not them, not Drake, perhaps not even me until this moment. The soft, gentle Sheila had died long ago, replaced by a woman forged in pain and fire, unrecognizable yet unstoppable.