The Moonlight's Chosen

Alpha King Rowan always believed his impregnable empire was his divine right.

He had no idea that the massive barrier keeping their enemies at bay was solely sustained by me, draining my magic dry every single day just to hold it together.

To please his delicate new Queen, he stripped me of my military command and allowed others to mock me as "a stray wolf living off his charity."

He thought I would cry, throw a tantrum, and beg for his mercy.

Instead, I calmly sliced open my palm and severed the bloodline contract that protected his mountain range.

The night I left, a blood moon hung high in the sky.

The Court's barrier shattered instantly, the border armies defected, and his throne was reduced to ruins in the blink of an eye.

Meanwhile, I stepped into a Sanctuary that had been silent for centuries, awakened the ancient oath stones, and became the sole deity worshipped by every werewolf in North America.

He finally realized he was never some chosen king.

He had simply, with his own two hands, driven away his only salvation.

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Chapter 1

The Obsidian Hall of the Cascade Court was packed with werewolves who had come to witness the ceremony.

I stood quietly in the shadows at the very front of the hall, looking at Rowan Cade on the high dais.

The Council of Elders placed the crown of thorns, the symbol of absolute power, upon his head. The pack of wolves bowed their heads, exposing their vulnerable napes in a display of submission.

From this night on, the exile who had nearly died in the remote forests of Oregon, the half-blood once despised by pureblood werewolves, officially became the King of the Wolf Race.

Yet, among the thousands of werewolves present, not a single one knew that the barrier currently enveloping the entire Court and fending off the toxic miasma outside originated from my bloodline.

I felt the hum of magic within my body. This power was like an invisible spiderweb, firmly shielding the territory of the Cascade Mountains at its core.

For ten years.

To protect Rowan, and to avoid being used as a political pawn by the Council of Elders, I had hidden the rare mark of the "Moon Goddess" on my body. I willingly faded behind his glory, serving as his sharpest sword and sturdiest shield.

Because he had promised.

He said he would love me for a lifetime, that he would hold my hand high and share all his glory with me.

At this moment, Rowan raised his hand, and the hall instantly fell dead silent.

He looked down at his new empire from his high vantage point. His gaze swept over the crowd, but it did not linger on me.

"For the prosperity of the Cascade Court, and for our alliance with the ancient wolf packs of the East Coast," Rowan's voice echoed beneath the dome of the hall, deep and full of power, "I hereby introduce to you, my future Queen—Sloane Mercer."

The doors on the right side of the hall were pushed open. Eighteen-year-old Sloane Mercer, surrounded by several East Coast Elders, slowly walked up to the high dais.

She possessed flawless blonde hair, and her every movement exuded the pristine elegance unique to pureblood families.

She didn't need to fight in the mud, nor did she need to endure the tearing agony of a full moon. She only needed to stand there to represent the power and legitimacy that Rowan had always craved but could not easily obtain.

My heart skipped a beat, and my stomach felt as if I had swallowed a block of cold lead.

I watched Rowan turn and walk toward the altar.

Resting there was a Moon Oath Cloak.

Ancient wolf runes were embroidered in silver thread upon the black velvet.

During the bitter winter three years ago, in a bloody border battle, I had used my own body to shield Rowan from a fatal blow. It was also I who had painstakingly stitched that blood-soaked cloak back together, thread by thread.

In werewolf tradition, draping this cloak, which represented the vow of the Moon Goddess, signified a mate contract of shared life and glory.

Rowan picked up the cloak and walked toward Sloane.

With both hands, he draped it over the delicate shoulders of the eighteen-year-old girl.

The wolf pack erupted into deafening cheers and howls.

Sloane smiled, accepting this supreme honor.

She turned around, her gaze sweeping condescendingly over the submissive pack, before suddenly stopping at the front row.

As a high-ranking werewolf, she perhaps detected the lingering scent of Rowan on me.

The intuition of a pureblood heir was always sharp and lethal.

"Rowan," Sloane tilted her head slightly, asking in a voice loud enough for the entire front row to hear, "who is that woman standing next to the Council of Elders?"

The clamor at the front of the hall suddenly quieted down.

Countless gazes shot past Sloane's shoulder and landed on me.

I raised my eyes, looking straight into Rowan's familiar amber eyes.

Admit it, I chanted desperately in my heart. Tell them I am the mate who has fought by your side for ten years.

Rowan's eyes flickered for merely a second before returning to their usual calm and authority.

"Mara..." he began flatly, his tone so even it didn't hold a single ripple, "is a subordinate I took in during my early years. She has always been very loyal to the Court."

A loyal subordinate.

Just a useful tool "taken in during his early years."

A piercing, burning pain flared at my collarbone. The silver Moon Goddess mark, which I had suppressed for ten years, was trying to break through its seal, sensing its host's extreme grief and indignation.

I clenched my jaw tightly, gripping the collar of my coat in a death grip.

I could not lose control.

Without sparing another glance at the picture-perfect new King and Queen, I turned and retreated deeper into the shadows. Moving against the cheering crowd, I pushed open the heavy side doors and stepped out into the freezing winds of the Cascade Mountains.

The cold air rushed into my lungs like razor blades, slightly cooling the burning sensation at my collarbone.

I strode down the empty stone corridor, trying to leave the celebratory music from the hall behind me.

"Mara! Stop!"

Familiar footsteps, mixed with an impatient call, came from behind.

I didn't stop until a strong hand violently grabbed my arm.

"How long are you going to throw this tantrum?" Rowan forcefully yanked me around.

He was still wearing his luxurious coronation attire. His brows were furrowed, and his eyes held a reprimanding look. "You know full well this is just a political marriage. The Elders need a pureblood figurehead, and Sloane brings funds and an army!"

"So you gave her my cloak?" I looked at his hand gripping my arm, my voice unnaturally calm.

"It's just a piece of cloth! A prop to win people over!" Rowan lowered his voice, softening his tone. "You've been on the front lines too long; you don't understand these political games. No one can shake your position in the Court. Once this ceremony is over, everything will go back to the way it was. You can still stay by my side and fulfill your duties like you have for the past ten years."

Fulfill my duties.

Suppress rebellions for him, treat the wounded for him, and maintain the crumbling defensive barrier of this Court for him.

And then watch him hold the hand of his respectable pureblood Queen, accepting the adoration of the masses.

I looked at the man before me, the man I had loved for a full ten years, and suddenly felt he had become a complete stranger. Or perhaps, I had never truly known him at all.

He was just used to my dedication, taking my sacrifices as a given offering.

Little by little, I pulled my arm out of his grasp.

"There is no 'back to the way it was,' Rowan." I took a step back.

"I don't want to be disappointed anymore."

Rowan narrowed his eyes dismissively. "What is that supposed to mean?"