Abandoned Luna: Claimed by Two

Elinor POV

The decaying walls of my childhood bedroom smelled of rot and desperation. I stared into the spotted, antique mirror, the heavy white lace of my bridal gown hanging off my thin frame like a shroud. I looked like a ghost. Or worse-a sacrifice.

The door creaked open. My father, Alpha Joseph Thorne, stepped in. His face was the color of old ash, his posture screaming cowardice.

"The Blackwood escort is here," he muttered, refusing to meet my eyes. "Braden was delayed by urgent pack business. A common warrior will escort you to the ceremony."

Ice flooded my veins. In our world, an Alpha heir personally claiming his bride was a sacred tradition. Sending a warrior was the ultimate insult. It meant I wasn't a future Luna; I was just collateral being transferred. A *wolfless* Omega sold to save our bankrupt pack.

"I understand," I said, my voice deadened. I wouldn't let him see my humiliation.

An hour later, I stood at the entrance of the Great Hall of the Blackwood Pack. The massive sanctuary was carved from ancient black stone and timber, smelling of cedar, power, and impending doom. Sunlight bled through the stained glass, casting fractured shadows over the obsidian floor.

I walked down the aisle alone.

The pews were packed with the most powerful Alphas in North America. Their whispers hit me like physical blows. I could smell their pity. Their mockery.

Suddenly, a sharp pain pierced my temples. A voice burst into my mind, frantic and trembling. It was Faye Vance, my only friend.

*Elinor, he's gone!* Faye's mind-link echoed in my head. *He's not coming! He took a human girl-a singer named Kacey-and boarded a private jet to California an hour ago!*

My breath hitched. My heart stopped.

Braden hadn't just abandoned me; he had run off with a human. A weak, scentless human. And the Blackwoods knew. The realization hit me with the force of a physical blow. They knew he was gone, yet they let me walk down this aisle to be the laughingstock of the entire werewolf world.

The crushing weight of despair vanished, instantly incinerated by a sudden, blinding fury. Deep within my soul, something ancient and dormant twitched. A spark of pure, white-hot pride.

I stopped dead in front of the glowing moonstone altar.

The whispers died down. The silence in the Great Hall became suffocating.

I reached up and tore the white laurel wreath from my hair. The symbol of purity and submission hit the obsidian floor with a soft thud. I turned my back to the altar and faced the front row, my eyes locking onto the matriarch, Genevieve Blackwood. She sat in the shadows, her face an unreadable mask of ancient authority.

"Where is your heir, Dowager Luna?" my voice rang out, surprisingly steady, slicing through the heavy silence.

Genevieve's eyes narrowed. Her Alpha aura flared, a heavy pressure meant to force me to my knees. "Elinor. We will discuss this privately-"

"We will discuss it now," I interrupted, ignoring the gasps that erupted around the room. I stood taller, refusing to bow. "I will not wait at the altar for a male who is currently on a plane to California with his human mistress."

Chaos erupted. Growls shook the rafters. Genevieve's face tightened into a mask of cold fury, but I didn't give her a chance to speak.

"I, Elinor Thorne, reject Braden Blackwood as my mate and my groom," I declared, the ritual words tasting like ash and liberation on my tongue.

Before the matriarch could summon her guards to drag me away, I took a step forward. I would not be the victim today. I would not let my pack be destroyed by their arrogance.

"But the alliance remains," I continued, my voice echoing off the stone walls. "The Blood Treaty states a daughter of the Thorne Alpha's bloodline must unite with a son of the Blackwood Alpha's bloodline. It does not name the coward who just fled."

I stared directly into Genevieve's eyes, challenging the most terrifying woman in the pack.

"I demand a replacement. Fulfill the treaty, or let the Blackwood name be known as oath-breakers to the Moon Goddess herself."

The Great Hall plunged into a deathly, breathless silence. Every eye in the room shifted from me to the Dowager Luna, waiting for the sky to fall.

Elinor POV

The silence in the Great Hall was absolute, heavy enough to crush bone. Every Alpha, Beta, and Luna in the pews held their breath, their eyes darting between my rigid posture at the altar and the shadows where the Dowager Luna sat.

Genevieve Blackwood rose slowly. Even in her old age, she commanded the room like a reigning queen. Her ancient, sharp eyes assessed me, calculating the damage Braden's cowardice had inflicted upon their empire.

"The Blackwood Pack honors its debts," her voice rang out, low but carrying the biting chill of a winter storm. She didn't apologize-Blackwoods never did-but her words were an admission of their shame. She lifted her chin, her authority absolute. "Let all unmarried males of my bloodline stand."

A murmur rippled through the crowd. From the front rows, two figures rose to their feet.

One was Matteo Blackwood, built like a linebacker with a thick neck and a permanent scowl. He was Braden's best friend, and the glare he shot me promised nothing but cruelty. The other was Luca, a thin, trembling boy who couldn't even lift his eyes from the obsidian floor.

Before the reality of my grim choices could settle, a shrill shriek shattered the tension.

Francesca Blackwood, the high Gamma's mate, lunged forward and grabbed Matteo's arm. Her face was flushed an ugly, mottled red. She glared at Genevieve before turning her venomous gaze on me.

"You cannot be serious!" Francesca screamed, her voice echoing off the stone walls. "My son will not be saddled with a *rejected Omega*! He will not clean up the coward's mess with... with *leftovers*!"

The insult hit me like a physical slap, but I kept my spine steel-straight. I wouldn't give her the satisfaction of seeing me bleed.

Genevieve's reaction was instantaneous. Her Alpha aura slammed down on the room, a suffocating pressure that forced several weaker wolves in the back rows to their knees.

"It was *your* nephew, Francesca, who brought this shame upon us," Genevieve snapped, her voice cracking like a whip. Her icy gaze pinned the Gamma female in place. "Break this treaty, and you will answer not only to me, but to the Moon Goddess herself. You will invite a war that will turn our forests to ash and bury us all."

The threat of war hung in the air, absolute and terrifying. All the color drained from Francesca's face. Trembling, she collapsed back into her seat, thoroughly silenced.

Genevieve turned her attention back to me, gesturing to the two males. The trap was set. Marry the brute who hated me, or the coward who couldn't protect me. Either way, I would remain a victim. A pawn.

But I was done being a pawn.

I looked at Matteo's furious face, then at Luca's shaking shoulders. I thought of the exact wording of the ancient parchment my grandfather had signed.

"I reject them both," I said coldly.

Gasps erupted from the pews. Francesca looked like she might faint, and even Genevieve's stoic mask slipped, revealing a flash of genuine shock.

"The bride has the right to choose," I continued, my voice steady, projecting over the rising murmurs. "The treaty demands a son of the Blackwood Alpha's bloodline to restore my honor."

I didn't look at Genevieve anymore. I didn't look at Matteo or Luca. Instead, I raised my trembling hand and pointed past the altar, past the Dowager Luna, straight into the deepest shadows of the front row.

My finger aimed directly at the man who ruled the entire North American continent. The Lycan King. Kaelen Blackwood.

"I choose *him*."

The Great Hall didn't just go silent; it felt as though time itself had stopped. The sheer audacity of my demand seemed to suck the oxygen from the room.

In the shadows, the Lycan King finally moved. He leaned forward, stepping into the fractured light of the stained glass. He was massive, radiating an ancient, primal danger that made my instincts scream at me to run.

He looked at me. For the first time, his obsidian eyes locked onto mine.

A low, earth-shattering rumble vibrated through the floorboards, a sound so deep it rattled my teeth. It wasn't a threat. It was something far more terrifying. In the depths of his dark eyes, a ring of pure, predatory gold flared to life.

Elinor POV

The golden ring flaring in the Lycan King's obsidian eyes paralyzed me. The low rumble vibrating through the floorboards wasn't just a sound; it was a physical weight pressing against my chest, a primal warning screaming at my wolfless instincts to submit.

Before the King could speak, the Dowager Luna shattered the spell.

"He is not an option, Elinor," Genevieve's voice sliced through the heavy air, sharp and absolute. She stepped out of the shadows, her posture rigid with indignation. "The Lycan King is the ruler of our kind. He is not a contingency plan for a broken engagement. The treaty implies a union of the same generation-"

"Does the *Blood Treaty* specify a generation, Dowager Luna?" I interrupted, my voice ringing out clearer than I felt.

Genevieve's jaw snapped shut. Her eyes narrowed into dangerous slits, but she didn't have an immediate answer. Because there wasn't one.

I seized the microscopic hesitation. I couldn't back down now; I was already standing on the edge of the cliff. "Your heir broke the pact. He abandoned me at the altar for a human. Will the mighty Blackwood Pack break a sacred treaty *twice* in one day? Before the Goddess and every Alpha in this room?"

The accusation hung in the air, heavy and damning. Whispers erupted from the pews like a lit fuse.

Genevieve's face tightened. To deny me was to admit her family were oath-breakers in front of the entire North American werewolf elite. A complex emotion-a flash of fury mixed with a begrudging, microscopic glint of respect-crossed her ancient features. Slowly, she turned her head toward the throne, yielding the floor to the only man who could overrule her.

Kaelen Blackwood stood up.

The whispers died instantly. As he stepped down from the dais, the air in the Great Hall seemed to thin. He was massive, his broad shoulders blocking out the fractured light from the stained glass. He moved with the terrifying, silent grace of an apex predator, his dark suit impeccably tailored over a body built for war. The scent of cedar, expensive bourbon, and raw, unadulterated danger washed over me, making my head spin.

He stopped mere inches from me. I had to tilt my head back just to meet his gaze.

"Do you understand what you are asking, little wolf?" His voice was a subterranean rumble, devoid of warmth but vibrating with a dark, possessive power. "To claim the King means you belong to me. Completely."

My knees threatened to buckle under the sheer force of his Alpha aura. I dug my fingernails so hard into my palms that the sharp sting of broken skin grounded me. I forced myself to stare directly into the golden fire burning in his dark eyes.

"I am asking for a husband who keeps his word," I countered, my voice trembling just enough to betray my terror, but loud enough for the hall to hear. "To restore my honor."

I shifted my gaze to his mother. "The Blackwoods honor their debts. You said so yourself."

Genevieve's lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line, but she gave a single, stiff nod.

Kaelen's eyes snapped back to mine, the golden rings flaring brighter, analyzing every inch of my pale face. He was searching for weakness, for the moment I would break and run.

"This is your last chance to walk away," he warned softly, the threat meant only for my ears.

"I'm not walking away," I whispered back.

A muscle feathered in his jaw. For a second, I thought he might summon his guards to drag me out. Instead, he extended his arm toward me. The fabric of his suit pulled taut over thick, iron-hard muscle, revealing a glimpse of ancient tribal tattoos at his wrist.

"Then let us not keep the Goddess waiting," Kaelen commanded, his voice echoing with absolute finality.

I reached out, my trembling fingers wrapping around his forearm. It felt like grabbing hold of a loaded weapon. As he turned us toward the glowing moonstone altar, the crushing reality of what I had just done settled over me like a shroud. I had escaped the humiliation of a coward, only to walk willingly into the den of an ancient beast, and I had locked the door behind me.