The Rise of The Eight-Time Rejected Luna.

*Lila's POV* “I, Alpha Leo Ashford, reject you as my mate.” The voice had been steady when he said it. That had been the worst part—how composed he had been while destroying something I didn’t even have the language to explain at the time. I remembered the mating grounds first: the way the wind moved through the banners tied between the wooden pillars, how the entire pack had gone silent the moment his eyes met mine. I had stepped forward because I thought that was what fate looked like. Instead, there had been hesitation in his gaze. A flicker that did not belong to destiny, then the words fell. “I, Alpha Leo Ashford, reject you as my mate.” My chest had reacted before my mind could understand what was happening. A force I had no control over tore through me, and I remembered gripping the fabric over my heart as if I could physically hold myself together. My wolf had screamed inside me, not in anger, but in confusion, like something sacred had been violently interrupted mid-breath. And when I fell to my knees, it was not only my body that collapsed, but every belief I had carried about being chosen. No one moved toward me. The silence afterward was not empty; it was deliberate. People watched me as though they were confirming something they had suspected long before I arrived—that I was not meant to be anyone’s mate. Then another memory surfaced without warning, sliding over the first like oil spreading across water. “I, Alpha Aiden Sabestein, reject you as my mate.” His voice had not carried regret; there had been irritation in it, as though my presence had disrupted something orderly in his world. I remembered the slight curl of his lip, the way his gaze moved past me immediately afterward, as if I had already ceased to exist the moment the sentence ended. Behind him, someone in his pack had laughed. The laughter did not fade; it multiplied. “I, Alpha Rowan Kane, reject you as my mate.” “I, Alpha Ethan Rivers, reject you as my mate.” “I, Alpha Dominic Wolfe, reject you as my mate.” Each one blurred into the next, not because I had forgotten them, but because my mind had learned there was no point separating pain that arrived in identical form. By the time the eighth voice surfaced, my chest already knew what was coming before my memory did. “I, Alpha Mason Drake, reject you as my mate.” The final rejection had not even been the most painful part. It had been the realization that no one was surprised anymore, not even me. The memory fractured after that. I was no longer in the mating grounds; I was running. The forest replaced everything, and when I finally opened my eyes again, I was not standing in memory but in reality—on cold stone that cut into my palms as I pushed myself upright. The night air was sharp against my skin. I could feel it threading through my lungs as I tried to steady my breathing, though my body did not want to obey me. My muscles ached in places I could not immediately name, and when I looked down, I saw bruises darkening along my arms and legs as though my own body had begun recording what my mind had refused to fully process. I had run without knowing where I was going; that much was clear. Above me, the moon hung heavy in the sky, indifferent and white, casting a pale light over the edge of the cliff where I now stood. Below, the forest stretched endlessly, its canopy swallowing all trace of civilization, of safety, of anything that resembled belonging. The wind moved through it like breath through a sleeping body. For a moment, I simply stood there, trying to remember the last time I had felt anything other than exhaustion, but the answer did not come. Instead, anger did; it rose slowly like something that had been building for years and had finally found a place to settle. I lifted my face toward the sky, to the Moon Goddess. The one they said chose mates, the one they said never made mistakes. My voice came out rough, stripped of whatever dignity I had once tried to preserve. “Why?” My throat tightened, but I continued anyway, because silence had never given me anything in return. “Why would you do this to me?” My fingers curled against my palms as I forced myself to stand straighter, though my body trembled with exhaustion. “Eight times.” The number tasted bitter. “Eight different Alphas. Eight different lives where I stood in front of people and was told I wasn’t enough to be chosen.” The wind pressed against my face, pushing strands of hair across my eyes. I did not move them away. “Was I a mistake you didn’t feel like fixing?” My voice cracked slightly, but I refused to stop. “Or was I just something you forgot to finish creating properly?” The forest below remained silent. My shoulders lowered slightly as the anger drained, leaving behind something heavier; it settled into my bones like cold water. I let out a breath that almost became a laugh but broke halfway through. “I kept thinking maybe the next one would be different.” The words sounded foolish even as I said them. “Maybe the next Alpha would look at me and see something worth keeping.” My gaze dropped toward the edge of the cliff beneath my feet. “And yet here I am.” My fingers trembled slightly as I pulled my arms closer around myself. “Still alone.” A branch snapped somewhere behind me. My body reacted before my mind did, turning sharply toward the sound. A man stood a short distance away; he was tall, built with the kind of strength that suggested he did not need to prove it to anyone. The moonlight touched his shoulders and the side of his face, revealing features that were calm, almost casual, as though he had not expected to find anyone here either. For a moment, he simply looked at me, then he smiled. “I’m sorry,” he said, lifting a hand slightly as though to apologize for the interruption itself. “I didn’t realize someone else was out here.” I instinctively took a step back, my body still too raw from everything that had happened to trust even kindness. “It’s fine,” I replied carefully, forcing my voice to remain steady. “I was just leaving.” His eyes lingered on me for a moment longer than necessary. “You’re alone,” he observed gently. “I’m fine,” I said quickly. He tilted his head slightly, studying me with quiet patience. “You don’t look fine.” My chest tightened at that, not because he was right, but because he had said it as it mattered. I let out a small breath and shook my head. “People don’t usually end up here unless they want to be alone.” A pause followed. Then he said, “And do you?” I opened my mouth to answer, but no words came. Because the truth was complicated in a way I did not want to admit to a stranger. The silence stretched, then he moved, just a step closer. “I should go,” I said, turning slightly. His hand closed around my wrist. The contact was firm enough to stop me, but not painful. My eyes dropped to his grip, then lifted back to his face. His expression had not changed much; the warmth in his eyes had thinned, replaced by something intent, something focused in a way that made my instincts flare. “Oh,” he said softly, almost amused, as if he had just realized something. My stomach tightened. “What?” His gaze moved over me slowly now. My breath caught slightly as the realization began to form in the space between us. But before it could complete itself, something cut through the air behind him. A sharp sound and a sudden interruption to everything. The man’s grip loosened instantly. A scream tore through the night and warm blood splattered across my cheek. And I stumbled back as the stranger dropped to his knees in front of me, clutching what remained of his arm. My gaze snapped past him, toward the direction the attack had come from. Between the trees, a figure emerged, walking through the moonlight as if the night itself belonged to him.