Alpha King's Broken Mate

Chapter 2- Moon Rite 🌙

BRISEIS

The day of the Moon Rite began in silence.

No birdsong. No wind. Just the heavy hush that sometimes comes before a storm. I felt it deep in my bones. Not fear, something colder. A kind of knowing. Today would be a scar.

I’d barely slept. My body had trembled through the night from cold and nerves, but sleep never came. I lay curled beneath my thin blanket, staring at the ceiling, clutching my bruised ribs and trying not to imagine what would happen when they dragged me into that sacred clearing, dressed in filth, empty of power, surrounded by wolves who lived to hate me.

They wouldn’t need to hit me today to make it hurt.

But they did anyway.

“Up,” Beta Marko barked as he kicked the edge of my straw bed with his boot. The blow sent hay flying into my face. I sat up fast and tried not to wince. My back was already sore from yesterday’s chores.

I obeyed, barefoot, silent, heart pounding.

“You think you’re better than the rest of us, little shadow?” he said, circling me as I stood. “Think you're special 'cause the Alpha’s taking you to the Rite?” He leaned in, his breath hot and sour. “You’re not. You’re the entertainment.”

I didn’t respond.

I knew better.

Still, that didn’t stop him from backhanding me so hard I stumbled into the stone wall. My shoulder cracked against it, and I bit back a cry. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“Put this on,” he said, tossing the same stained dress Luna Dalia had given me. It smelled worse now, moldy, wet. Someone had soaked it in something to make it worse. A prank. A message. You don’t belong here.

I pulled it on with shaking hands.

It hung off me like a sack, ripped at the side, the collar already stretched and drooping. My reflection in the broken mirror nailed to the wall looked like a ghost, pale skin, eyes too big, hair still damp from the bucket they’d dumped on me earlier “to clean me up.”

My bottom lip was split. My right cheek, already darkening.

“You’re not even worth spit,” Marko muttered before walking out.

I stood there, arms hanging uselessly at my sides, trying to breathe through the swelling in my throat.

Then came the worst part.

The walk.

They made me walk through the centre of the training yard where the others were already assembled, dressed in fresh leathers, brushed hair, trimmed coats. Beautiful, strong, full-blooded wolves. The ones who mattered.

And then there was me.

They turned as I passed. Some laughed. Some whispered. One spat at the ground near my feet.

“She reeks of weakness.”

“Alpha’s probably sending her to get rid of her.”

“If we’re lucky, the King will put her down himself.”

I kept walking.

Because that’s what I always did. I walked through it. Around it. Beneath it. Never through.

Until Alpha Rolan called out.

“Stop.”

I obeyed, head down, stomach coiling into a tight knot. The pain hadn’t started yet. Not really.

He walked toward me slowly, each step loud against the packed earth. When he stopped in front of me, he didn’t speak at first. He just reached out and grabbed my chin, forcing my face up.

“You are an embarrassment,” he said quietly. Not to me, to the pack. “I should’ve drowned you when you were a pup.”

His nails dug into my jaw, and tears pricked my eyes from the pressure. I didn’t cry. I wouldn’t.

“Today, you will stand in that clearing and be seen. You will wear our crest. You will keep your mouth shut. If anyone asks your name, you will say nothing. You are property. Understood?”

I nodded as best I could under his grip.

He let go.

Then he slapped me, hard and low across the face, so sudden I saw white for a moment. I staggered but didn’t fall. I didn’t even make a sound. I swallowed it all.

He smiled. “Good girl.”

That smile haunted me more than his fists.

They wanted to parade me like livestock. A breathing insult.

As the wagons rolled out, I was shoved into the back of one, alone, surrounded by crates of meat and supplies for the feast. They didn’t even want me sitting beside them. Not even in shame. I was less than that. Luggage.

The ride to the Moon Rite clearing took hours. I didn’t sleep. I didn’t cry.

I counted my breaths.

One.

Two.

Three.

The Moon Rite was a sacred gathering. Every year, packs from across the region came together to celebrate their lineage, challenge for dominance, and, if the Moon Goddess willed it, meet their fated mates. Most wolves went eagerly. Hopeful. Hungry for connection.

Me?

I was being offered up like a joke.

A mistake dressed in rags.

And yet, somehow… some part of me still hoped. A tiny, treacherous piece of me wondered, what if? What if, in that massive crowd, someone did scent me? What if there was something inside me worth seeing?

I crushed it.

Hope had no place in my life.

Not anymore.

Not when the only thing I could count on was pain.

.....

The wagon jerked to a stop just as the sun began to bleed orange across the sky. My knees were stiff, and my fingers numb from clinging to the sideboards to stay upright. No one came to help me down.

I climbed out slowly, boots hitting the packed earth with a dull thud. My legs wobbled. The wind tugged at my hair, catching strands that had come loose. I tried to smooth them back, but the dress I wore made my arms itch. Everything about me felt wrong.

The clearing was already filling with wolves.

Tents lined the edges of the sacred field, beautiful silks, crisp banners bearing pack crests, rows of warriors standing tall in ceremonial armor. Even the air felt different here, thicker, charged, like something ancient was waiting just beyond the trees.

I’d never seen so many wolves gathered in one place. Their scents mixed in the air: pine, fire, rain, ash, snow, lavender, blood.

Power radiated from them.

And I… I was dirt beneath their feet.

“Stay to the back,” Beta Marko growled in my ear as he passed, shoving a crude iron crest into my hand, the sigil of Blackridge, dented and rusted. “You don’t speak. You don’t move unless commanded. Try anything stupid, and I’ll make you bleed in front of everyone.”

He stalked off to join the rest of our pack, who were already being greeted by other Alphas.

I stood there, clutching the crest.

No one looked at me.

Which was a mercy, really.

I slipped away before anyone could stop me. Into the tree line. Not too far, but far enough that I could sit alone, behind a thick trunk, where the sounds of laughing, roaring, and posturing couldn’t reach me so loudly.

And for the first time that day, I let myself fall apart.

My chest heaved in quiet sobs. I didn’t make a sound. Crying out loud was dangerous. It drew attention. But tears spilled anyway, hot and bitter.

I wiped them away with shaking fingers, pressing my back to the tree like it could hold me up.

My body hurt. My face burned from bruises. My arms were scratched. My pride, what little remained, was shredded.

They brought me here to be humiliated.

And they would get their wish.

Because I had nothing. No strength. No shift. No presence.

I wasn’t even sure if I had a wolf anymore.

And yet…

The forest was quiet here. Peaceful in a way that made my chest ache.

I looked up through the branches.

The sky above was a deep violet now, streaked with gold and indigo. Stars were already beginning to wink into existence. And rising, just barely, was the pale curve of the moon. Almost full.

I pressed my palm to the base of my throat. I didn’t know why. It just felt like something in me needed to touch the light. To hold it. To remember something before it was stripped from me completely.

I closed my eyes and whispered again.

“Moon above, shine on me. Moon within, wake in me. I am yours. Let me be seen.”

A breeze stirred the leaves above me. It kissed my cheek, cool and soft, and for a second, just a second… my chest pulsed.

My breath caught.

And then it was gone.

I opened my eyes.

Nothing.

Just the wind. Just the woods. Just a broken girl in a broken dress, waiting for the world to laugh.

Still… that flicker stayed in me.

Small.

Silent.

But alive.

I wiped my face again, stood up on shaking legs, and turned back toward the clearing. Toward the ceremony. Toward whatever fresh cruelty waited.

Because even if no one else would fight for me,

I would.

Even if it was only with my silence.

Even if I had to walk through hell dressed like a curse and bleeding inside.

I would endure.