Being The Luna of The Dark Alpha Wasn’t That Bad!

My grandmother, Luna Moira Silverfang, always gave Gwyneth everything. The fortune worth billions. The perfect debut ball. The carefully planned rise of “The Silverfang Pack’s Beloved Future She-Alpha” among the packs. That was when I knew she would give me only one thing, a mating ceremony covered in thorns. As expected, an envelope arrived the next morning. It was sealed with dark red wax stamped with the Blackwing crest, a coiled serpent wrapped around a crown. I stared at it for a long time before my shaking fingers finally broke the seal. [Intention of Mating Ceremony Lady Freya Silverfang of the Silverfang Pack and Alpha Auron Blackwing of the Blackwing Pack The Moon Priestess has agreed to bless the mating ceremony.] Another letter was attached for me. [Lady Freya, I will come to collect you in three days. A private castle has already been prepared. Your bridal fittings are scheduled. Our mating ceremony is in two weeks. Auron Blackwing] Our mating ceremony? In two weeks. I set the letter on the desk, my hand numb. This was it. I had been sold again. Only this time, I had spoken the words that sealed the deal. And now I finally saw that this pack had never accepted me at all. Walking down the hallway, thinking of the life I was about to throw away, I passed by Gareth’s room. And the sounds coming from inside made me freeze. Low breaths. Rough groans. The room shook with raw, wild desire. I reached for the door without thinking. Then, I opened the gates of hell. Gareth sat shirtless, muscles tight, sweat shining on his skin. His hand moved between his legs, his head tilted back, lost in pleasure. Papers lay scattered everywhere. On the floor, the bed, and the desk. My heart stopped when I saw them. Gwyneth. He had drawn her face from every angle. Smiling, laughing, looking over her shoulder, and her hair messy like she had just woken up in his arms. And there was more. Sketches of her body. Not dirty. But soft, intimate curves. In one drawing, Gwyneth was lying on her back with her head turned and her lips slightly opened. In another, her arms stretched above her head, a thin sheet barely covering her thighs. I froze as Gareth lifted one sketch. It was one where Gwyneth was topless, her back arched. He brushed his lips against the paper and moaned her name. “Gwyneth … Gwyneth … ” Everything inside me crumbled. Gareth hadn’t just used me. He had never even seen me. Then, his voice broke the silence. “No,” he growled. “I can’t return to the pack until she’s mine. I want her as my mate. Gwyneth is everything I want for the Grey Wind Pack.” My breath caught in my throat. The Grey Wind Pack? Did that mean Gareth was my former betrothed whom I had never met. Was he the one who rejected me publicly after my mother’s funeral, calling me unworthy of his blood? A tear slipped down my cheek in horror. He had been beside me all this time, wearing a new name, a new face … And I had let him in like a lamb walking to the slaughter. “I am only here for Gwyneth,” he said again. “I always was. Freya? Still throwing herself at me like a dog in heat. You think I would waste three years on her if she wasn’t useful?” My chest tightened painfully. “She’s lonely. That makes her easy. Always trying to tempt me with those clothes … like some cheap woman.” I couldn’t breathe. My legs barely held me up. Three years... Three years I let him into every part of my life. From my plans, my fears, even to my mother’s ashes. I thought he was emotionless, untouched by beauty or status. But all along … Gareth had been chasing Gwyneth. It reminded of the reason my mother died of heartbreak. The day my mother learned my father had a hidden mistress and another pup, something inside her broke. She stopped eating, stopped talking, started scratching at her own skin until she bled. I was eight when they took her to the psychiatric wing. Her empty eyes looked at me one last time. One day, she walked into the sea wearing pearls and never returned. They called it an “accident.” Gwyneth moved into our home the next week. Took my room. Called my mother “that unstable woman.” When I was ten, she accused me of pushing her down the stairs. My father slapped me in front of everyone. I should have walked away. Should have yelled. But I stood in Gareth’s doorway, frozen, as he finally noticed me. He didn’t even flinch. He stood up slowly, grabbed his clothes, and dressed without shame like I was nothing but a low-rank Beta who forgot to knock. “Even if I’m your warrior … you should knock before entering, Lady Freya,” he dryly said. Lady Freya. As if he didn’t know every detail of my life. As if he hadn’t held me on the bathroom floor when I lost my mother’s castle in court and cried until I couldn’t breathe. He picked up his sketchbook carefully, wiping it like it was something precious. I swallowed my pain and said, “Tomorrow is an event I’m organizing. You will follow me as my warrior.” “Will Lady Gwyneth attend?” My heart tore apart. “W-What? It’s a tribute for my mother … for her death anniversary! Why would I invite her?!” Gareth’s expression darkened instantly, not out of respect for my mother. But it was because I insulted Gwyneth. “Follow me tomorrow. That is an order,” I said, turning away as my throat burned. Then, just loud enough for me to hear, he murmured, “She’s still chasing me… thinks one night in my bed changed anything. It’s pathetic.” I stopped. Gareth didn’t know I heard. He didn’t care if I had. To him, I was nothing but a stepping stone. I left the door wide open behind me. Let the cold wind sweep in. Let the truth settle over everything. My story in this pack was ending. And I was walking away from the chaos.

The next evening, Gareth waited at the bottom of the stone staircase in the pack hall. His hand stretched out, as he always did, expecting me to take it. But I didn’t. For the first time in three years, I walked past him without a word. Gareth froze for a moment, surprise flickering in his sharp wolfish eyes, then quickly regained his calm, predator’s mask. He followed me in silence, sitting across from me in the carriage like a stranger I had never known. Tonight was mine. It was the ceremony to celebrate my mother as the late Luna of the Silverfang Pack. I celebrated it by showing my hobby, knitting gowns. Six gowns I had spent years preparing. Each stitch carried a memory of pain, of love lost, of a mother who had died broken. The collection was my message to the world. It was a message no one could ignore. To the eight-year-old girl who watched her mother give up life while the pack ignored her cries. One by one, the gowns appeared under the full moon’s silver light. The Ariadne gown was a soft pink, echoing my mother’s young love for my father. The Descent gown was shaped like a trapped bird, the moment she realized he had married her for power. Meanwhile, the Unspoken gown was a deep cerulean gown that showed the night my father’s mistress was revealed and my mother was locked away for ‘causing a scene’. After that, the Inheritance gown, a midnight black gown embroidered with thorned vines, the strength she passed to me through pain. Last but not least was the Resurrection gown. It was a bright scarlet, sharp and fierce, the fire she had lit in my soul. The pack applauded, howling in approval. But when the final gown appeared, my chest froze. Gwyneth stepped onto the stage. Wearing it. The gown I had sewn with trembling hands, tears dripping onto the fabric. It held a piece of my mother. Her hair woven into the brooch at the collar. Her heartbeat. Her essence. I gasped, horror slicing through me. “No!” I stumbled forward, trying to stop her. “She cannot wear that! She can’t! No!” Before I could reach the stage, a hand gripped my wrist, bruising. I spun around. It was Gareth. His fingers dug into my skin. His eyes were unreadable, like a wolf who had already claimed its prey. “Let go of me!” I hissed, trembling with rage. “That gown carries my mother’s hair! And Gwyneth is my mother’s killer … why is she wearing it? Don’t you see?!” He didn’t flinch. “Do not cause a scene, Lady Freya. This is not about you.” I yanked my arm free, staggering back as my world collapsed. Then, a deep voice rang across the hall. A tall man in ceremonial black stepped forward. “My name is Alwin Oakwood, the Beta of Alpha Gareth, Alpha of the Grey Wind Pack,” he announced, bowing gracefully. “Our Alpha believes all things beautiful should belong to their rightful owner. All these gowns belong to one person and that is Lady Gwyneth.” Gwyneth pressed her gloved hand to her chest, pretending to be embarrassed. “Oh … I had no idea Alpha Gareth would show me such honor. I am… deeply grateful. I hope to meet him soon. I have never seen him before.” The pack members murmured, flashing their eyes with excitement. “Gareth? The Alpha no one has ever seen?” “And Lady Gwyneth has already captured his attention?” “She must be special to earn such favor!” I could barely breathe. “What is this?” I whispered, voice sharp. Before I could step closer, attendants rolled out the other five gowns. My other dresses, my life’s work, were hung carelessly on wooden racks, no reverence, no protection. “All six gowns are gifts to Lady Gwyneth Greywind from Alpha Gareth,” the Beta continued. “Who says Lady Freya should know her place and not interfere with the innocent Lady Gwyneth?” The pack stared at me like I was a wolf trapped in a snare. Gwyneth looked around, wide-eyed, pretending innocence. “Lady Freya … please don’t be mad. I never wanted to steal your spotlight. I’m sorry…” I wanted to scream. I wanted to tear everything apart. Cry until my heart broke. Gareth stood behind me, silent, watching. His eyes were cold, like a judge delivering punishment. He didn’t need words. He looked at me like I deserved this humiliation. Public. Precise. A lesson for daring to defy him. I bit my tongue until I tasted blood. When the ceremony ended, all my dresses were gone. My tribute to my mother stolen. My name was erased. I didn’t watch Gareth leaning toward Gwyneth with admiration. I didn’t watch Gwyneth’s sly smile. What I knew was that I shifted into my wolf form to the old countryside farmhouse, the one on the edge of the forest. I almost collapsed once I reached the farmhouse. I went to the garden. My mother’s garden. The one she fought to keep from being destroyed for a hidden pack vault. The jasmine had bloomed early. I stood beneath it, in heels and ruin, a woman left with nothing. And I cried. Not polite tears. Not quiet ones. The kind that shook the soul. The kind that came from the deepest part of a broken girl. Not just because I had loved Gareth, my fated mate, with a fire he used to burn me. Not just because the pack adored Gwyneth and marked me as a villain. But because I had let go of every piece of love I had ever given to this pack. Every hope I had ever held. My screams echoed through the forest, unanswered.

Two days. That was how long I stayed locked inside my den, packing my things in silence and preparing to leave the Silverfang Pack for good. I ate almost nothing. I barely slept. My chest didn’t ache anymore. I was simply numb, as if my wolf had curled into a cold corner inside me and refused to move. A knock came. “Freya?” Gwyneth’s sweet voice floated through the door, fake as always. When I didn’t answer, the door opened anyway. Gwyneth stepped inside like the Alpha’s house belonged to her alone. “Sister, I know you’ve been … going through things. But it’s my birthday, and all the pack members are asking where you are. You need to come greet everyone. Even if Father is angry with you… you’re still his daughter.” I stayed silent and kept folding clothes. “Freya, please? I’m just trying to keep our pack peaceful.” Then another voice followed. Deeper. Colder. His. “Where are you going? Why can’t you act normal for once—” “You are my warrior, not my Alpha. Don’t forget your place.” My words cut through the air like claws, and Gareth stopped, his expression empty and unreadable. I hadn’t seen him since the night he sold my legacy, the night he humiliated me in front of the whole pack. The night the male who had once been my fated mate treated me worse than a rogue. “Lady Freya, you have everything,” he finally said, tone formal. “The Silverfang Pack has a tremendous legacy. You don’t need to fight with your sister or torment her. The least you can do is show up for one night. Just behave.” I laughed, sharp, bitter, and painful. Behave. Gwyneth sniffed softly, pretending to be innocent. “Gareth, you’re my sister’s warrior and friend. Please help me. I only want Freya to come downstairs. Everyone is talking…” I turned away. If I looked at either of them any longer, I would tear the whole room apart. “Fine. Get out. I’ll be there.” My voice sounded dull, hollow. Because the only thing worse than breaking… was letting them see it. The ballroom glittered in soft pink and gold, the walls covered in roses and glowing candles. Pack members laughed and chatted, the air thick with sweet perfume and wolf scents. Then I heard him. My father. Laughing loudly among high‑ranking Alphas and Betas. “So, the Grey Wind Pack’s Alpha himself chased after my Gwyneth!” he boasted. “Gareth, of all wolves. I always knew my daughter was special!” Someone asked about me. He didn’t hesitate. “Freya?” he scoffed. “A troublesome pup. Not like Gwyneth. She brings honor to the pack. Freya only brings problems and wants attention.” I froze behind a marble column, hidden but listening. His words sliced through me like claws. Then Gwyneth’s voice rang out through the hall. “Everyone!” she called sweetly. “Before we cut the cake, I want to say something!” The crowd gathered like pups chasing a treat. She smiled beautifully, her eyes sweeping the room until they landed on me. She lifted her hand, inviting me forward like I was part of her little show. “I know things have been… tense,” she said softly. “But I want you all to know that my sister and I have made peace.” I blinked. She turned to me with fake sadness. “I’m sorry for making you angry and jealous, sister. I never tried to compete with you. No matter how much you hate me… I always looked up to you. We are pack.” The crowd murmured in admiration. She turned back to the giant cake and cut it gracefully. “To my sister,” she said. “May she one day find peace and purpose.” Then she stepped closer and held the first bite toward me. I didn’t take it. Her whisper hit me like poison. “The last thing you’ll ever taste as a Silverfang Pack’s member, bitch. First your mother died, and now it’s your turn to follow her. Father isn’t yours. Your ex‑fiancé wants me. Even your fated mate, your precious warrior, chooses me over you.” My vision burned red. I turned away, refusing to let her see me break. But then my dress jerked sharply. Cold air hit my back. Gasps filled the hall. The silk slid down my body in a cruel wave, leaving my breasts exposed. I grabbed the fabric too late. People shouted. Wolves whistled. Voices hissed in shock. My hands shook as I tried to pull the dress up, but the clasp had been cut. Clean. Deliberate. I knelt on the ground, tears stinging my eyes. Behind me, Gwyneth gasped dramatically. “Oh no, sister!” she cried. “Why would you do that? Again? Freya… is this for attention?” The crowd turned toward me with disgust, pity, and hunger. And then … he moved. Gareth. From across the room, his gaze locked on me—cold, distant, Alpha‑hard. He didn’t shield me. Didn’t growl. Didn’t protect the wolf who once carried his mark. He shrugged off his jacket and dropped it. At my feet. Not on my shoulders. Not around me. As if he wanted to say, ‘Cover yourself. You shame us.’ I grabbed it with shaking hands and pulled it around me as I stood on trembling legs. Gareth guided me toward the exit, his grip firm on my elbow. No comfort. No warmth. Just the cold duty of a warrior escorting a disgraceful wolf. In the bathroom, I shut the door fast and slid down the wall. The cold marble bit into my bare skin as I clutched his jacket to my chest. My breaths came in broken gasps. Shame crawled up my spine like fire. Tears fell hot and fast. Outside, I heard Gwyneth’s fake cry. “W‑Why would my sister do this?!” Gareth’s voice followed, sharp and cold. “The way she acts… like stripping in front of the whole pack means nothing. It’s something an innocent wolf like you will never understand, Lady Gwyneth.” Then came the words that shattered me. “I can’t believe a woman could act with so little respect for herself,” Gareth said. “Who undresses like that? For attention? Sympathy? A moment of praise?” I stared at the floor. “She’s always been an attention seeker,” he continued. “Framing you. Acting like a… prostitute. Tonight proved it. No wolf with dignity would do something like that.” The words were bullets. One. After. Another. He truly believed I wanted this. That I chose to be exposed like prey before a pack of hungry wolves. I once loved him more than the moon. I once believed the mate bond meant something. Now, I saw the truth. Loving him had been the biggest mistake of my life.

Inside the small bathroom, my breaths came in short, shallow bursts. But with the last of my strength, I forced myself to stand, trembling. In the cracked mirror, the reflection that stared back at me was hollow and broken. But my eyes… they burned. I pushed the bathroom door open, wrapping my ruined dress tightly around me. Gareth’s body stiffened. He was standing beside Gwyneth, arms crossed, jaw tight, watching. Waiting. For a moment, I saw a flicker of doubt in his sharp wolfish eyes. What if she didn’t mean for the wardrobe accident to happen? No. That couldn’t be true. “Lady Freya.” I walked past him without a word. Then, with deliberate motion, I pulled off his ink-black jacket and tossed it into the large trash bin at the side. Right in front of him. Silence cracked. Gareth’s mouth opened slightly, a flash of something. Was it confusion? Regret? Annoyance? But it defintely crossed his face. I didn’t care. “Lady Freya,” Alwin, a Beta who had served the castle since my childhood, rushed forward, worry in his voice. “What happens to insolent servants who gossip behind their masters?” I asked coldly. “They… are punished, Lady Freya?” I didn’t answer. My heart wasn’t calm. It was burning with hurt, rage, and sorrow. I turned back to him. Without hesitation, my hand shot forward. CRACK. The sound of my palm meeting Gareth’s cheek cut through the hallway like a gunshot, louder than the music from the ballroom, louder than Gwyneth’s dramatic gasp. Gareth didn’t flinch. He froze, the red mark blooming across his skin. His jaw clenched. I leaned closer, my voice low, shaking, venomous. “Who the hell are you to decide my worth?” I hissed. “Who gave you the right to judge me and then call me… that?” My voice broke, but I didn’t. “A whore? Really? After everything I gave you… after every time I protected you… you humiliate me like this?” For a moment, his eyes shifted, a flicker of guilt passing across them. He wanted to speak, but I wasn’t done. “Out of everyone who has ever hurt me… you?” I whispered bitterly, stepping closer, breath trembling. “You are my greatest regret. Even a dog doesn’t bite the hand that feeds it. But you… you are worse than a dog.” “This house was never safe. The woman you chase… you don’t even know her. Yet you follow her blindly, a fool who will never understand until she drags you into hell herself!” Gareth’s cold, indifferent eyes widened slightly, shock flashing across them as he muttered. “Freya…” I turned away and left. Inside my room, finally alone, I collapsed. Trembling, I relived every moment of humiliation. My mind spun like a storm. With shaky fingers, I looked to see if there were terrible news about today’s event or about my exposed body. I braced myself to be mocked by everyone. Then, something happened. There was an anonymous letter. [No pictures. No traces. No reports… Not a single word will leak. Those who wronged you today—remember their faces. They will pay their debt in blood.] My tears paused. My eyes widened as I read it again. I hurriedly checked for more rumors. But the rumors I heard were that a farmhouse close to our pack went bankrupt, a healer got arrested for sexual assault, and the rumor about Gwyneth lost 10 millions golden coins. Not a single mention of today’s incident. The people who had seen my incident were either imprisoned for serious crimes… or gone. I took a sharp breath. The anonymous helper… it had to be someone from the Blackwing Pack. Auron Blackwing. But why?

The next morning arrived in heavy silence. Every servant in the Silverfang Pack house already knew what had happened last night. No one dared look at me, and no one knew how to speak to me. I sat at the long breakfast table, flipping through a simple magazine, eating slowly. The air felt cold. “The Blackwing Pack said they will not wait anymore. In three hours, they will send someone to collect you.” Just like that, a letter slid across the table toward me. My father had been sitting there for almost half an hour without saying a word, his food untouched. [The Announcement of Dowries Lady Freya Silverfang of the Silverfang Pack will be given the following: 50 million golden coins The Silverfang Pack’s heirlooms Half of the pack’s castle] “I—I didn’t know you were going to mate Auron Blackwing,” my father said softly. “Your grandmother made everything official this morning. I found out only today.” He swallowed. “Freya… I don’t hate you. If you could just be a little more obedient—” “I won’t be here anymore to stop you from bringing your mistress into this house,” I cut in coldly. “So go ahead. Bring Gwyneth’s mother home and give her my mother’s place.” My father flinched. My mother’s death was the one subject no one touched, as if she never existed. “With this, we are no longer father and daughter, Alpha Atlas,” I said quietly. “I am cutting off all ties. Live well with your mistress and your other pup.” My voice sliced through the room. His mouth opened, then shut again. His shoulders tightened, but he didn’t try to argue. At the hallway outside my room, Gareth stood like a shadow. He was watching, waiting. Normally, a slap to the Alpha of the Grey Wind Pack would make him furious. But after what I said yesterday, even he knew he had crossed a line. He took that slap without a word. His eyes narrowed as he took in the boxes, the folded clothes, the empty perfume stands. When he noticed my old painted portraits thrown into the trash beside torn journals, his voice dropped into low frustration. “Lady Freya, you could have at least told me you were leaving. Now I have to pack everything in a rush.” I didn’t respond. “You always do this,” he muttered under his breath. “No warning, no plan. Just running away like the sky is falling. What’s going on, Freya?” I folded my last scarf and placed it inside the trunk. Then I turned to face him fully. “I am leaving for a vacation,” I said in a flat voice. “You don’t have to follow me anymore.” His brows pulled together, disbelief sharp in his tone. “What are you talking about?” He knew about my weak body, my panic attacks, the health issues the healers always warned him about. He knew I was never left alone. “We have a contract, Freya. It is my duty to stay with you day and night and protect you-” “And yet you failed,” I said. “I don’t trust you to protect me anymore. The least you can do is obey my orders.” Then I handed him a small velvet box tied with a navy ribbon. “Bring this to Gwyneth,” I said. He opened the box. His whole body froze like I had struck him again. Inside was the key to the Silverfang Luna’s jewelry chest, the one given to the heiress when she was a pup. “This chest?” Gareth’s voice cracked with disbelief. “I remember when we were kids—you said you’d rather die than give it up. You cried when Lady Gwyneth tried to touch it… and now you’re handing it away?” “I was foolish to think it held any value,” I whispered. “If Gwyneth likes it so much, she can have it.” Gareth stared at my bare face, my simple black dress that covered every inch of my skin. No jewels. No red lipstick. Nothing like the confident, fiery woman I used to be. For a second, just a second, his mask broke. Something uneasy flickered in his eyes, like a warning he didn’t understand. His gaze dragged over me as if he were staring at a ghost… or watching someone slip out of his hands while standing right in front of him. “You can send me the location where I have to join you,” he said stiffly. “I’ll give this to Gwyneth first… then come find you.” He waited for a response that wasn’t coming. “Go,” I said quietly. And he did. An hour later, I stood in front of the pack cemetery. Behind me, the private carriage that belonged to the Blackwing Pack. It had waited with quiet readiness. My mother’s picture shone softly on the carved stone. I placed a bunch of blooming red roses on her grave, the color she loved most. “Mom,” I whispered, tears rolling down my cheeks, “I’m getting mated to the man they call the Dark Alpha and somehow it doesn’t feel as bad as it should.” I wiped my face. “I used to think love looked like Gareth. But that was an illusion… and now I’ve thrown it away. From today on, I will choose my own happiness.” My grandmother tried to contact me through mind-link for five times. As for my father, he tried to contact me seven times. And more than a hundred mind-link from my twin brothers, who always chose Gwyneth over me because I was ‘too strict’. ‘Lady Freya, when are you leaving?’ ‘My lady, answer me.’ ‘Send me the address.’ A small smile touched my lips. I closed my eyes, breaking off my mind link with them. FInally, I cutting myself free from everything tied to the Silverfang Pack. The coachman bowed, “Lady, we’re ready for our journey.” I stepped onto the carriage without hesitation. Farewell. I no longer needed Gareth to follow me. I was leaving forever.