They said the mark of a rejected Luna fades in time but no one told me it would take my soul with it.

The rain hadn’t stopped since the ceremony.

It fell hard and cold, washing the blood off my hands but never the shame from my skin.

My body ached with tiredness as I stumbled through the narrow alleys of Los Angeles, the city that once sparkled for me now nothing but smoke and shadows. Every corner smelled of oil and deception. Every echo reminded me of the moment my name was pulled from me like skin torn from bone.

Somewhere far behind, the DeLuca guards still searched. I could hear the growl of their engines, the barked directions over radios.

I pressed myself against a collapsing brick wall and swallowed a sob.

“This can’t be happening,” I whispered. “It can’t.”

The rain dripped into my hair, sealing it to my cheeks. I remembered Lorenzo’s face cold, detached, merciless as he crowned Aurora in my place. The pain felt fresh, sharp, alive.

You were never meant to wear my mark.

Those words looped in my head like a curse.

A shadow moved at the end of the alley. My muscles tensed. I turned, ready to run until I recognized him.

The scarred driver from before.

He approached slowly, his dark coat soaked through, his face opaque beneath the falling rain. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said quietly.

I laughed bitterly. “And where should I be? Buried under the DeLuca estate?”

He didn’t move. “They’re searching every street. There’s a reward on your head.”

My stomach twisted. “Lorenzo wants me dead?”

He paused. “Not Lorenzo. His council. But they’ll use his name to excuse it.”

I felt dizzy. The world tilted around me. “Who are you?”

He looked around before answering. “Matteo Rossi.”

The name hit me like a spark. “Rossi… as in the Rossi syndicate?”

His look was sharp. “I see you know the name.”

“Everyone does,” I said. “Your family runs half of California’s underworld.”

“And yet here I am,” he said, “helping a Luna with nowhere to go.”

I didn’t believe him. But I didn’t have a choice. “Why are you helping me?”

He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Because I owe someone a debt. Someone who believed you were innocent.”

I frowned. “Who?”

Matteo looked away. “You’ll find out soon enough. For now, we need to move.”

He looked toward the end of the alley where lights flashed. “They’re closing in.”

I felt fear rush through me. “Where will we go?”

He pointed toward a rusty grate at the ground. “Down there.”

My heart sank. “That’s a sewer.”

“Better dirty than dead,” he said simply, prying the grate open. “Move.”

The smell hit me like a punch. I paused at the edge, looking down into darkness.

Matteo gave me a small, impatient push. “Go.”

I dropped into the cold water below, biting back a cry as the filth soaked my torn gown. He followed, slamming the grate shut above us. The world turned black except for his small flashlight beam.

The air was damp, thick, and smothering. The tube stretched forever ahead.

We started walking.

My shoes squelched in the water. My breath rang against the stone walls.

“Why is this happening?” I whispered. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

Matteo’s voice came from behind me, calm and short. “Truth doesn’t matter when power’s involved.”

I turned to face him, anger and sadness colliding. “They humiliated me in front of everyone! My mate, my family, my entire world gone in one night. And you’re telling me to just accept it?”

His face relaxed, barely. “No. I’m telling you to survive it.”

His words hung heavy in the silence.

We walked for what felt like hours. At times, I thought I could still hear the guards above their boots, their snarling dogs, the faint metallic smell of silver guns.

My body shook from the cold and fear. But Matteo never slowed.

“Why did Aurora come back?” I asked suddenly. “She was gone for years. Everyone thought she was dead.”

“Maybe someone needed her alive again,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

He didn’t answer.

The flashlight flickered. I saw his scar catch the dim light and old cut that seemed to hold its own story.

We reached a junction. He stopped listening. “They’re above us. We’ll take the lower passage.”

I followed him down a steep path. My gown snagged on the edge of a pipe. I tore it free. “Do you work for the Rossi syndicate or against them?” I asked.

He smirked weakly. “That depends on who’s paying me.”

“So I’m just a job to you?”

He looked at me for a long time. “Not exactly.”

The way he said it made my pulse skip. But before I could ask more, the roof rumbled. Dust rained down.

“They’re detonating the access tunnels,” Matteo mumbled. “We need to move.”

I stumbled as we ran. My legs screamed with pain.

“Why are they doing this?” I cried. “They already destroyed my name!”

“Because dead Lunas don’t tell secrets,” he said grimly.

We turned another corner and froze.

A group of armed men stopped the path ahead, flashlights cutting through the dark.

Matteo swore. “Stay behind me.”

He drew a gun from his belt, his moves quick and sure. Shots echoed, loud in the cramped space. Water splashed. Someone screamed.

I pressed against the wall, shaking, covering my ears.

When quiet fell, Matteo turned to me, gasping. “Come on.”

My heart was hammered. “You killed them.”

He looked at me coldly. “They would’ve done worse to you.”

I followed in silence. My gut churned not just from fear, but from something deeper, heavy.

Half an hour later, we reached a rusty ladder heading upward. Matteo pushed open the grate, showing a dim backstreet behind a factory.

“Up,” he ordered.

I climbed slowly, every muscle shaking. When I reached the top, I fell onto the wet ground, gasping for air.

Matteo climbed out after me, closing the grate. He checked the empty street.

“We’ll stay here for now,” he said, looking at the broken windows of the building. “It’s abandoned.”

Inside, the air was cold and stale. I sank against a wall, pulling my knees to my chest.

Matteo lit a cigarette, the smoke swirling in the dim light.

“You should rest,” he said. “We move again before sunrise.”

I looked at him. “You act like this is normal. Like running for your life is just another Tuesday.”

He gave a low laugh. “For me, it is.”

I shivered. “How do you live like that?”

“By not caring who wins, only who survives.”

The anger in his tone struck something in me. “And who do you think will survive me and Aurora’s war?”

He looked at me, his gray eyes dark and mysterious. “The one who stops waiting to be saved.”

The words stung because they were true.

Silence stretched between us. Rain drummed softly on the roof.

My body hurts everywhere. My chest, my head, my heart. I touched my belly again and the dull ache from earlier had worsened. I told myself it was stressful. Nothing more.

“Matteo,” I said quietly. “Why did you say someone believed in me?”

He released smoke. “A man called Cassian. He’s… linked to the Rossi gang, but not loyal to them. He said if anything happened tonight, I would find you.”

“Why would he care?”

Matteo paused. “Because he thinks you were framed.”

Framed.

The word lit a spark inside me. “So Aurora’s claim was fake?”

He gave a slight nod. “Possibly. There are papers sealed in DeLuca hands that show your legitimacy. But if what Cassian said is true, Aurora and the council destroyed the evidence.”

My blood turned cold. “Then Lorenzo knew.”

“Maybe,” Matteo said. “Maybe not. But he didn’t stop.”

Tears burned behind my eyes. “He swore to protect me. He looked me in the eyes and lied.”

Matteo’s expression relaxed. “Love makes fools of even the strongest wolves.”

I met his eyes. “Do you speak from experience?”

He looked away, quiet.

For a moment, the only sound was rain and the faint hum of the city beyond.

I noticed I was trembling not just from cold, but from sadness. Everything I’d known had been built on lies. And yet, somewhere deep inside, the faint bond I once shared with Lorenzo still hummed weakly, like a dying ember unwilling to fade.

Why couldn’t I let him go?

I closed my eyes, trying to quiet the ache. My body suddenly lurched. A wave of sickness hit me so hard I barely managed to turn away before I vomited.

Matteo knelt beside me instantly. “You’re pale. How long since you last ate?”

I shook my head, gasping. “It’s not that. I don't know what’s happening.”

He touched my forehead, frowning. “You’re burning up.”

Another wave of pain twisted through my belly. I doubled over, holding my stomach.

Something’s wrong.

My heartbeat roared in my ears. The air grew thin.

Matteo’s voice sounded far away. “Aria! Look at me. What’s wrong?”

I could barely speak. “I… I don’t know…”

Then, through the haze of pain and terror, a terrifying realization struck.

The missed moon cycles. The sudden sickness. The ache that had started that night Lorenzo last touched me.

I stared at my shaking hands. “No,” I whispered. “No, it can’t be.”

Matteo gripped my shoulders. “What can’t?”

Tears welled up. “I’m pregnant.”

The words broke the air between us.

For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The world seemed to stop.

Matteo’s eyes widened, his cigarette falling forgotten to the floor. “You’re sure?”

I nodded weakly, tears spilling down my face. “It’s his.”

Lorenzo’s.

The one who rejected me, called me a fake, and left me to die.

The man whose child now lived inside me.

My voice broke. “What do I do?”

Matteo’s jaw tightened. “You survive.”

I shook my head. “He’ll kill me if he finds out.”

“Then we don’t let him find out.”

He stood, walking. “This changes everything. The DeLuca family can’t risk another child outside their control. If they discover you’re carrying his child”

“They’ll come for me,” I finished.

“No,” he said, meeting my eyes. “They’ll come for it.”

A cold fear spread through me.

Matteo pulled out a phone and spoke quickly in Italian. I caught fragments of“safehouse,” “Cassian,” “urgent.”

When he finished the call, his face was grave. “We move tonight. There’s a plane waiting north of the city. You’ll go into hiding.”

I wiped my tears. “And what about you?”

“I’ll buy you time.”

“No!” I grabbed his sleeve. “They’ll kill you too.”

He looked down at my hand, then back into my eyes. “I’ve been dead for a long time, Aria.”

The way he said it made something twist painfully inside me.

I wanted to fight, but the tiredness was too heavy. My eyelids drooped. My heartbeat slowed.

Matteo knelt beside me, his voice fading. “Stay with me. Don’t pass out. Not yet.”

“I can’t…”

“Aria”

Darkness closed in, swallowing his words.

The last thing I heard before everything went black was his whisper against my ear “Your exile begins now, Luna.”

When Aria’s eyes fluttered open hours later, Matteo was gone.

In his place lay a blood-stained note and a single line scrawled across it:

“They know you’re carrying the heir.”

The rain fell like needles, sharp and cold, washing away what was left of my old life. But no storm could remove the truth I was never meant to be Aria DeLuca.

I looked out the window of the Rossi property in San Francisco, watching the rain blur the city lights. It had been three weeks since the crowning. Three weeks since Lorenzo’s words had cut through the air and destroyed my world.

“You were never meant to wear my mark.”

Those words still rang in my head like a curse I couldn’t escape.

I touched my wrist, the place where his mark should have been. My skin was bare, pale, shivering. Once, I had dreamed of that mark representing forever. Now it only reminded me of the moment I was called a fake before the entire pack.

Rossi, my so-called savior, sat across the room, smoking slowly, his dark eyes following my every move.

“If you keep staring out that window, someone might think you’re waiting for him,” he said in a low, joking tone.

I turned toward him, forcing my voice to stay steady. “I’m not.”

He smirked. “Liar.”

My jaw clenched. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I do,” he said, standing up and walking closer. “You still love him, don’t you? The Alpha who tossed you away like ash after the fire.”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t have to. The quiet spoke louder than words ever could.

Rossi sighed and sat beside me, the faint smell of smoke and danger sticking to him. “Listen, Aria”

“I’m not Aria anymore,” I interrupted softly. “Aria DeLuca is dead.”

He tilted his head, studying me. “Then who are you now?”

I looked back at the rain-soaked window, the city lights shining like broken glass in my eyes. “Whoever I need to be to survive.”

That night, the memories came like knives.

The hospital room. The crying kids. My mother’s tired smile before everything turned to chaos.

I remembered some voices, one demanding. And then another, cold and forceful.

“She’s the real heiress,” a nurse whispered. “The other one is the midwife’s child”

“Not anymore,” said a man’s voice. “Make the switch. She’ll have everything.”

The memory jolted me awake, gasping. My hand pressed to my chest, heart beating wildly.

Was it a dream or the truth my mind had buried for years?

I stumbled from the bed, searching the drawers Rossi had given me. Birth papers, fake IDs, cash tools for the new life he was helping me build. But at the bottom of the pile was something else.

A blurred picture. Two babies. A hospital tag with my mother’s name and another with the name Aurora Rossi.

My stomach turned. Aurora Rossi. The woman who’d taken my place. The woman who now wore my crown.

I didn’t notice Rossi enter the room until his voice broke the silence.

“You found it.”

I froze. “You knew?”

He leaned against the doorframe, shadows cutting across his sharp features. “I didn’t know. I suspected.”

“Suspected?” I hissed. “You let me think I was going insane?”

“Calm down, sweetheart,” he said, his tone tightening. “You need to remember it yourself. If I told you, you wouldn’t have believed me.”

My throat got tight. “So it’s true. I was switched at birth.”

“Yes,” he said quietly. “Aurora’s father bribed the midwife. He wanted a Luna for his family. Your parents were weak. Poor. Easy to silence.”

The room spun. My pulse roared in my ears. “So… my whole life… every smile, every promise, every rejection was built on a lie?”

Rossi’s eyes softened, just for a moment. “If they took your name, Aria, then build another they can’t touch.”

I sank onto the bed, holding the picture so tightly it nearly tore. “You make it sound easy.”

“It’s not,” he said, walking closer. “But you’ve already survived worse.”

His hand brushed mine, and for a moment, I felt warmth against something dangerous and unsaid.

But the warmth turned cold when a sharp pain tore through my stomach.

I gasped, doubling over.

“Aria?” Rossi’s tone snapped into worry.

I clutched the side of the bed, breath coming fast. “It’s just fine”

Then I felt it again. The same twisted pain that had started days ago.

He caught me before I hit the floor. “You’re not fine,” he whispered, carrying me to the bed. “You’re burning up.”

“I just need a moment,” I said through gritted teeth.

He knelt in front of me, his hand sitting on my knee. “When was the last time you saw a doctor?”

“I haven’t,” I whispered. “I can’t risk being found.”

His jaw tightened. “You’re risking your life instead.”

“I’ll be fine.”

But I wasn’t. The next wave of pain came harder, and something inside me broke. Tears filled my eyes.

“Rossi,” I whispered. “Something’s wrong.”

He cursed under his breath and grabbed his phone. “We’re leaving. Now.”

The drive through the storm was a blur. My world tilted between pain and flashes of light. Rossi’s voice was the only thing keeping me linked.

“Stay with me, Aria.”

I blinked through tears. “You shouldn’t care. You barely know me.”

He glanced at me, his jaw set. “I don’t leave people bleeding on the floor. Not anymore.”

Not anymore. The words held weightguilt, maybe even pardon.

The car skidded to a stop outside an abandoned clinic. He carried me inside, breaking the lock with a sharp kick.

The air smelled of dust and rain. Old surgery lights flickered overhead.

“Sit,” he ordered.

I obeyed, trembling. My heart thundered in my ears as he rummaged through drawers, pulling out supplies.

“Why are you helping me?” I asked, voice weak.

He didn’t look up. “Because you remind me of someone.”

“Who?”

He finally met my eyes. “Someone I failed to protect.”

The quiet that followed was heavier than sound.

Then he froze, eyes flicking to the small ultrasound machine still hooked to the power. “Lie back,” he said gently.

I listened. The gel was cold against my skin. The moment the picture flickered onto the screen, everything stopped.