The Rejected Alpha And The Runaway Luna

They said I needed to learn my place. I already knew it — kneeling on the stone floor, scrubbing away the mud from Cassandra’s designer boots while she laughed with the other ranked wolves. Her giggles scraped against my ears like claws. “I think you missed a spot,” she said sweetly, lifting her leg and pressing the sole of her boot into my shoulder. “Right there, rat.” I looked up, slow and unbothered. My red curls fell across my face, damp from the work and sweat. “Funny. I was just thinking the same thing about your personality.” The silence hit like a dropped plate. Then came the gasp. Cassandra’s face twisted. “What did you say to me, maid?” I stood up, taller than her now. “I said,” — I brushed imaginary lint off my apron — “you might want to wipe the venom off your tongue. It’s dripping.” And that was the moment Alpha Cedric walked in. Ryder’s father. The one who ruled this place like a god, and looked at me like I was the dirt on his boots. His silver-streaked hair was pulled back, face carved from stone and scorn. His eyes landed on me. “Marshal.” I didn’t bow. “Care to explain why Lady Cassandra is crying?” I glanced at her — not crying, just fuming with humiliation. “Because I spoke. And apparently that’s a punishable offense.” “Disrespecting a ranked guest is an offense,” he snapped. “One I’ve warned you about.” Ryder stepped in from the hallway then, flanked by his ever-present shadow. He didn’t say a word — just watched, arms crossed, eyes unreadable. Alpha Cedric took a step toward me. “You may not be one of us, girl, but while you wear that apron under my roof, you will follow our rules. And respect our ranks.” I smirked. “Funny, I don’t remember swearing fealty to a pack that never wanted me.” The slap came fast. It cracked across my face and echoed down the hallway. Cassandra gasped. The servants down the corridor went still. My head whipped to the side, cheek stinging — but I stayed standing. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t fall. The sting of his hand still pulsed on my cheek, but I refused to touch it. If I rubbed it, it meant he won. The silence stretched. Everyone was waiting for me to shrink. Apologize. Beg. I smiled. “That’s the best you’ve got, old man?” I said, voice low and razor-sharp. “No wonder the rogues are laughing at us.” You could’ve heard a pin drop on a wolf’s tail. Alpha Cedric’s eyes went black. “You insolent—” He lunged forward, grabbing me by the collar of my servant dress. “You want to challenge my authority? You, a stray mutt we took in out of pity?” “I didn’t ask to be taken in,” I spat. “And I sure as hell didn’t ask to be shackled to a pack full of cowards pretending they’re kings.” That did it. “Take her to the dungeon,” Cedric barked. “Three days. No food. Let her see how far her mouth gets her when there’s nothing left to chew on but regret.” Cassandra gasped, delighted. The servants froze. And Ryder? Still silent. Still watching me with that unreadable stare — like he didn’t know whether to laugh or strangle me. Two guards grabbed my arms, but I didn’t resist. As they dragged me away, I called over my shoulder, “Hey, Cassandra?” She blinked. “What?” “Your boots are still dirty.” ~~~~~~~~ The dungeon was colder than I remembered. Stone walls. Damp floors. Iron shackles that cut into my wrists with every movement. I hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning, and my stomach had long since given up growling. Day one was about pain. Day two was about silence. Day three was the hallucinations — the dizzy, fuzzy kind that blurred time and made me forget my name if I wasn’t careful. I curled my fingers around the edge of the shackle, tugging until my skin split again. The blood ran sluggishly now. Not enough food to replace it. Then, in the haze — like a thread tugging through fog — I felt it. > “Marshal…?” The voice was soft. Gentle. Familiar. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the wall. > “Nina?” I thought, barely able to focus enough to hold the link. > “Yeah, it’s me. Moon, are you okay? You haven’t responded in two days—” > “They chained me.” My mental voice was dry, like cracked earth. “Three days. No food. Dungeon smells like wet fur and regret.” > “I told you not to mouth off to Cassandra,” Nina scolded, but her tone was warm. > “She stepped on me.” > “And you stepped on Alpha Cedric’s last nerve. You’re lucky you’re not in a shallow grave.” I smiled — or tried to. My lips didn’t move much anymore. > “How bad is it?” she asked gently. > “Could be worse. I’ve still got my sarcasm and most of my teeth.” Silence for a beat. Then, > “I’ll sneak you something. A piece of bread or—” > “Don’t. If you get caught, they’ll punish you too.” > “You’re my best friend, Mars. I’m not letting them break you.” That hit harder than the slap. Not because it hurt — but because I’d almost forgotten what being seen felt like. > “Thanks, Nina.” I breathed. > “When you get out, you owe me a midnight run and a stolen bottle of apple wine.” > “Deal.” The link faded. The dungeon was still cold. Still quiet. But now I had something to hold onto.