Abandoned by My Alpha, Carrying His Heir

Alaric

I never chose Elena Frost as my mate.

Three years ago, when I officially took control of the Ashbourne Pack, my authority was still being tested. Power alone wasn’t enough. The elders watched every of my decision, allied packs measured my stability, and my enemies were lurking, waiting for a single misstep.

An Alpha without a Luna was a flaw in the hierarchy—an imbalance that could never be respected.

That was when my grandmother stepped in—ending the discussion before it become a debate.

Patricia Ashbourne, my grandmother, had ruled this pack long before I did. Even after stepping down, her word remained absolute. She told me that the pack demanded stability, not love. Her role was to quiet unrest, secure power, and end all talk.

I objected once.

Yet, she reminded me that Alpha authority was not about personal preference. It was about power and dominance.

Elena Frost was her chosen candidate.

She bore a rare ancestral wolf bloodline—one said to steady an Alpha’s power. Yet when I met her, I could barely feel her aura, so faint it was almost absent. And when the elders chose her, I could not fathom why. She was no vision of strength, no beauty to command a room—only a body weighed down by weakness, a Luna unworthy of the title.

For Grandma, she embodied the ideal Luna.

For me, she was a parasite clinging to my name, feeding on what will never hers.

The moment, I agreed, the ceremony took place right away under my grandmother’s guidance.

A bond in name only. No blood oath. No instinctual claiming. A marriage acknowledge by the pack but never sealed by the Moon.

~

Elena

The Ashbourne ancestral hall was silent, the atmosphere were heavy. White funeral banners hung from the beams, embroided with ancient runes that glowed faintly under the dim lights—symbols meant to guide a departed wolf’s soul back to the Moon.

Incense burned low, its bitter scent clinging to the air, mixing with the restrained pheromones of dozens high-ranking wolves gathered in one place.

Pack elders, Alpha from allied packs, and the Ashbourne—were all present.

And the Luna itself.

Me.

I stood at the very front, dressed in black, my hands folded neatly over my abdomen. Every movement I made was careful, controlled—like how grandmother had taught me how Luna should behave.

Patricia Ashbourne’s portrait loomed above the altar. Her sharp eyes, captured in oil and shadow, almost seemed alive, as if she were still watching, still judging.

“You promised me you’d stay,” her echoed in my memory. “No matter what happens.”

My fingers curled slightly.

I indeed stayed.

For three years.

I had stayed in an unmated marriage. Stayed to an Alpha mate who never came home. Stayed despite the endless whispers about a “useless Luna” whose wolf aura was too weak to be felt. Stayed when they not only humiliate that I was a Luna in name only—but also mock my appearance.

About the body I once carried, heavy and swollen, calling me a pig at the feast, and a glutton who looks like someone hasn’t fed her for ages.

I snapped from my thoughts as a ripple moved through the crowd.

The air shifted.

I didn’t even need to turn around to know who had arrived.

Alaric Ashbourne.

His presence swept through the hall. Cold. Dominant. Controlled.

The faint whispers when they looked at me, had completely died down as they instinctively lowered their gazes as he walked forward.

My spine stiffened—he stopped beside me.

So close that I could feel the heat of him.

Close enough that my wolf—quiet for so long—stirred faintly at the presence of our desired mate.

But Alaric didn’t look at me.

He wore a tailored black suit, his dark hair neatly combed back, and his expresson were cold. There were no traces of grief nor other emotions in those eyes.

But what made my heart ache when my gaze fell onto the woman who stood on his other side.

Her hand rested lightly on his arm like she had the right to do so.

Hydra Vale.

She was dressed in mourning black, but nothing about her looked subdued. Her long hair fell over one shoulder, her face pale and delicate, eyes rimmed red in just the right way—as if she’d cried enough to be convincing, but not enough to ruin her beauty.

She was the widow of his deceased close friend.

The woman the pack whispered about.

The woman they compared to me—the same woman everyone already assumed would become the next Luna.

Her scent brushed against mine—sweet, warm, openly entwined with Alaric’s.

So this is how it is.

A cold bitter smile left from my mouth as I tried to focus my attention as the ceremony continued. The elders had already spoke about Patricia Ashbourne’s legacy—how she had led the pack through bloodshed and expansion, how her word had once been law even among rival Alphas.

I bowed when expected. Knelt when required. Mourned when appropriate.

The perfect Luna that I had always been taught to.

When it was time for the family to step forward, Alaric moved.

Still, he did not look at me.

My gaze fell at Hydra who followed at his side, her fingers tightening slightly on his sleeve as if she belonged there and I was the stranger.

A murmur rippled through the hall. I don’t know why but I felt something was going on.

I only confirmed it when after the final rites, when everyone expected the dispersal as Alaric did not step back.

Instead, he turned.

And faced the crowd.

“Before you leave,” he said, his voice calm, deep, and amplified by Alpha authority rather than volume, “there is a matter I need to make public.”

My heart dropped.

My gut were clamoring that what he was about to say is something I had been long to avoid hearing.

No, maybe I was just overthinking it.

Yet, despite the faint hope in my heart—he still managed to crushed it over again.

“As of today,” he said, “the marriage bond between Elena Frost and myself is formally dissolved.”

Those words slammed into me like a physical blow—the same as the hall exploded.

I couldn’t even move—I thought that maybe I just misheard it.

But then Alaric turned his head—just slightly—and finally looked at me.

His eyes were cold and detached.

That’s where I know, he was sure of it.

“This decision,” he continued, “was made after careful consideration. The bond was contractual in nature, arranged under my grandmoter’s directive. With her passing, it no longer serves a purpose.”

Every word he uttered cut straight to my heart.

The invisible threat that had always existed—thin, neglected, but still hanging desperately—had finally snapped as my wolf whimpered.

Several elders exchanged looks, letting out a helpless sigh but none of them voice out to stop the Alpha.

They all tacitly agreed with the Alpha’s arrangement.

No, in their eyes, they never see me as their Luna.

I wanted to scream. To shout. To question them why—especially the Alpha.

Instead, I bowed.

“I understand,” I found myself answered.

My voice did not shake and the hall went silent again, as if they didn’t expect such reaction from me.

Even Alaric’s brows furrowed—just for a fraction of a second—before smoothing out.

“Arrangements have already been made,” he added. “Elena will be compensated according to the pack law.”

Compensated.

As if I were a transaction.

As if those three years could easily be compensated.

He clearly knows I didn’t agree to marry him for the compensation offered in our marriage.

Yet…it was also my choice.

Choice to be with him despite that I know he wouldn’t choose me.

All because I love him.

All because I wanted to be with him.

I pursed my lips, my gaze fell onto Hydra who shifted beside him and her body leaning subtly toward his.

She didn’t say a word, but her eyes do.

‘I’m next. You’re done.’

Beneath those pity expression she exudes when she looks at me, there was triumph.

I forced myself to lift my head.

“Alaric Ashbourne,” my mate. “Thank you…for the clarity.”

And just as I thought, he never spared me a glance. Even one farewell glance.

As if I was unworthy.

As if looking at me would only taint his eyes.

I pursed my lips and curled my fingers.

“Wow, she really throught she’d last.”

“Of course, she wouldn’t! How could she be compared to Hydra? If she wants the Alpha, she have to be Hydra herself!”

“Pity… if I were her, I’d sure hide and never be seen in the public again.”

“Are you trying to compare a pig to a goddess? Oh please!”

I let the murmurs, the mockery, the laughter bleed past me, clinging to the hope that if I stood still enough, strong enough, the Alpha would grant me a single glance—just one look to ease the ache clawing at my chest.

But when his eyes finally shifted, they did not find me.

He turned away, as if I had never existed.

Hydra naturally followed, not even bothering to hide the triumph in her smiles as her hand never leaving his.

Watching as they disappeared from my view—I understood.

I was the Luna no one wanted.