After My Alpha Replaced Me With His First Love

The moon hung heavy and full in the sky, casting a silver glow over the Blood Moon Pack grounds. Tonight was the Mate Ceremony, the most sacred night of the year, and my hands wouldn't stop trembling. I smoothed down the front of my simple white dress for the hundredth time. I had sewn it myself, stitch by careful stitch, praying that tonight, after seven long years of waiting, Alpha Dante would finally claim me properly.

Everyone said Omegas were weak. They said we were meant to serve, to bow, to disappear into the background. But for seven years, Dante had kept me by his side. He hadn't marked me—not yet—but he called me his chosen. He let me sleep in his bed, let me soothe his rages, let me believe that I mattered. Tonight, I thought, tonight he would finally give me the Moon Flower. Tonight, I would become his Luna.

"Nervous, Dalia?" a voice sneered behind me.

I turned to see Gamma Marcus, his eyes gleaming with something I couldn't quite place. Malice? Pity? "It's a big night, Gamma," I whispered, clutching my hands together to stop the shaking.

"It certainly is," he chuckled, pushing past me toward the front of the crowd. "Big night for everyone."

Music swelled from the orchestra, silencing the murmurs of the gathered pack. The heavy oak doors of the Alpha's manor swung open, and there he was. Dante.

My breath hitched. He looked like a god in his ceremonial black suit, his dark hair swept back, his jaw set in that hard, commanding line I knew so well. In his hands, he carried it—the Moon Flower. Its petals glowed with a faint, ethereal blue light, pulsating like a heartbeat. It only bloomed once a year, and it was the ultimate symbol of a fated bond.

He began to walk down the aisle, his gaze intense. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. *He's coming for me,* I told myself. *He's finally going to do it.*

I took a small step forward, ready to receive him. I was standing in the front row, right where he had told me to stand. I prepared my smile, the one he said he liked because it was quiet and obedient.

Dante drew closer. I could smell his scent—rain and cedar—and my inner wolf wagged her tail, whimpering in adoration. I reached out a hand, just slightly.

And then, he walked past me.

The air left my lungs in a rush. It wasn't a mistake. He didn't stumble. He didn't pause. He walked right past me as if I were invisible. As if I were nothing more than a ghost haunting the edges of his life.

The silence in the hall was deafening. I turned slowly, my vision blurring, watching as Dante continued to the very back of the hall. A figure stood there, cloaked in heavy velvet. Dante stopped before her and dropped to one knee.

"For seven years, I have waited," Dante's deep voice boomed, carrying to every corner of the silent garden. "For seven years, I have kept my heart safe for the only one who owns it."

He reached up and pulled back the hood.

A collective gasp ripped through the pack. I felt my knees give way, and I grabbed the back of a chair to stay upright. It was Paige Hughes. The high-ranking she-wolf, the Beta's daughter, the childhood sweetheart who had disappeared and was presumed dead years ago. She was alive. And she was beautiful, her golden hair shining under the moonlight, her smile triumphant.

"Paige," Dante whispered, the tenderness in his voice slicing through me like a blade. "My true Luna."

He held up the Moon Flower. Paige took it, bringing the glowing petals to her lips, her eyes locking onto mine across the crowd. She smirked.

The pack erupted. Cheers, howls, and applause thundered through the night. They were chanting her name. *Paige! Paige! Luna Paige!* No one looked at me. No one cared about the Omega in the homemade dress standing alone in the front row, her heart shattering into a million jagged pieces.

I couldn't breathe. I had to get out. I turned and ran, stumbling over the hem of my dress, pushing through the cheering bodies. Tears blinded me as I fled the garden, the sound of their joy chasing me like a pack of hunting dogs.

I burst into the manor's kitchen, the heavy door muffling the noise outside. I leaned against the counter, gasping for air, clutching my chest. It felt like my ribs were caving in. *He knew,* I realized with a sick jolt. *He knew she was alive. He never planned to pick me.*

"Stupid," I sobbed, hitting my fist against the granite countertop. "Stupid, weak, worthless Omega."

My hand brushed against something cool and metallic. I looked down. It was a tablet, abandoned on the counter near a half-eaten tray of appetizers. I recognized the case—it belonged to Gamma Marcus. The screen was still lit, displaying a group chat notification.

*The Long Game.*

My fingers moved before my brain could stop them. I tapped the screen. The chat opened, revealing a stream of messages dating back months. Years.

My eyes scanned the text, and the cold that settled in my bones had nothing to do with the night air.

**Marcus:** *She's getting clingy again, Alpha. Asking about the ceremony.*

**Dante:** *Let her hope. It keeps her docile. I need a warm bed until Paige returns, not a headache.*

I scrolled up, my stomach churning violently.

**Paige:** *Does she suspect anything? I don't want my homecoming ruined by some crying servant girl.*

**Dante:** *She suspects nothing. She's not smart enough to suspect. She's just a placeholder, Paige. A way to keep the council off my back about needing a mate.*

A sob tore from my throat, raw and ugly. I read the most recent message, sent just minutes before the ceremony began.

**Dante:** *Tonight, it ends. She's just a weak Omega. Once you're back on the throne, Dalia goes back to the servants' quarters where she belongs. Or she can leave. I don't care which.*

The tablet slipped from my numb fingers and clattered onto the floor. The screen cracked, a spiderweb fracture running right through Dante's name.

I wasn't a mate. I wasn't a partner. I wasn't even a person to them. I was a placeholder. A toy. A warm body to use until the real prize returned.

Outside, the fireworks began, booming in celebration of the new Luna. But in the cold silence of the kitchen, staring at the broken screen, something inside me died. And in its place, something cold and hard began to wake up.