The Lost Luna: Claimed by my Alpha’s Brother and Archenemy

Three months ago, I was supposed to become Luna of the Silver Moon Pack.

Tonight, I was carrying wine to the man who took my place's bed.

"Alpha's room. Now," the head Omega, Martha Grell, had snapped, shoving the tray into my hands. "And don't spill it this time, widow."

Widow. As if Adrian and I had ever made it to the altar.

He'd promised me. *When the war ends, Jane, I'll marry you under the full moon.* Then the Bloodfang wolves came over the eastern ridge, and Adrian never came back.

His younger brother Vincent took the Alpha title before the funeral pyre cooled. By the next morning, my things were moved from the Alpha wing to the Omega quarters. Nobody asked me. Nobody needed to.

I climbed the stairs slowly. The bottle rattled against the silver goblet.

At the top, I knocked.

No answer. Just a low laugh, then a moan.

My stomach dropped. I should have turned around. But orders were orders, and Omegas who disobeyed slept in the stables.

I pushed the door open.

Vincent was in the bed. Adrian's bed. Shirtless, his dark hair messy, his body moving over a woman with red lips and pale skin.

Zoe Marrick. His fiancée. The daughter of the pack's richest Elder.

She saw me first. And she smiled.

"Oh, look." Zoe hooked her arms around Vincent's neck and pulled him closer. "The little widow brought us a drink."

Vincent turned his head. His gray eyes landed on me and stayed there.

"Put it on the table," he said.

I crossed the room. My hands were steady. I made sure of that.

"Careful, Jane." Zoe stretched under the sheets like a cat. "You don't want to break anything else. You already lost the most important thing you had, didn't you?"

I set down the tray.

"Poor thing," she went on. "Engaged for years, and he died before the wedding. Not even a real widow. Just a leftover."

My nails dug into my palms.

"Will that be all, Alpha?" I asked.

"Answer me when I talk to you," Zoe said, sitting up. "Do you know how pathetic you look? Still walking around these halls like you belong here?"

I turned toward the door.

"Zoe." Vincent's voice was quiet. "Get out."

The room froze.

Zoe laughed. "What?"

"You heard me. Out."

"Vincent, you can't be serious. For *her*?"

He didn't look at her. He was still watching me. "I won't say it again."

Zoe's face went red, then white. She grabbed a robe from the floor and yanked it on. As she passed me, she slammed her shoulder into mine.

"Enjoy your scraps," she hissed.

The door banged shut behind her.

I reached for the handle.

"Not you."

A hand landed flat on the door above my head. Then Vincent's body was behind me, then in front of me, turning me, pushing me back until the stone wall bit into my spine.

He smelled like wine and Zoe's perfume. My throat closed.

"Let me pass, Alpha."

"Alpha." He tilted his head. "You used to call me Vin. Back when you were sitting at my brother's side at every feast."

"Back when you were his little brother."

His jaw went tight. Then, just as fast, it eased into a smile.

"Here's how it works now, Jane. When Adrian died, I inherited everything that was his. His title. His room. His wolves." He leaned in. "His woman."

"I'm not a thing you inherit."

"No? You're scrubbing floors. Hauling laundry. Sleeping on a cot by the kitchen fire." His thumb brushed my jaw. I jerked away from it. "I can end all of that tonight."

"How generous."

"I am. Be mine, and you'll never lift another bucket. Silk dresses. A room of your own. No one will dare call you widow again."

I stared at him. "And Zoe?"

"Zoe will be Luna. That's politics. Her father's gold is rebuilding our walls." He shrugged. "You'll be my secret. Mine at night. Nobody's business during the day."

Something in me went very cold and very calm.

Then I laughed.

It came out short and ugly, and it surprised both of us. Vincent's brows pulled together.

"You think this is funny?"

"I think," I said, "you've wanted Adrian's life since you were twelve years old. And now that he's dead, you're trying on his clothes and finding out they don't fit."

My palm cracked across his face.

The sound echoed off the stone. His head snapped sideways. A red print bloomed on his cheek.

"Don't you ever say his name to me," I said. "You're not fit to say his name."

For a second he didn't move.

Then he grabbed my wrist and slammed it against the wall.

"I'm the Alpha now," he growled. His eyes flashed gold. His wolf was rising. "You'll learn to like it."

His mouth came at mine. I twisted my face away, and his lips scraped my cheek. His grip crushed the bones in my wrist.

"Get off me!"

"Stop fighting."

My free hand flailed sideways. My fingers hit cold metal. The silver candlestick on the side table.

I swung it.

It struck his forehead with a dull crack. Wax flew. Vincent staggered back, one hand flying to his head. Blood ran between his fingers.

"You *bitch*—"

I didn't wait. I dropped the candlestick, wrenched the door open, and ran.

Down the hall. Down the stairs. My bare feet slapping stone. I didn't stop until I reached the kitchen and collapsed behind the bread ovens, shaking so hard my teeth knocked together.

I'd hit the Alpha. I'd drawn his blood.

But I'd gotten away.

I pressed my bruised wrist to my chest and told myself that was what mattered.

I didn't know then that Zoe had never gone back to her rooms. That she'd stood outside Vincent's door the whole time, her ear pressed to the wood, hearing every word he offered me.

I didn't know she'd watched me run.

---

Martha found me at dawn, still curled by the ovens.

"Up." She kicked my foot. "You've got new orders."

My heart pounded. "From the Alpha?"

"From Lady Zoe." Martha's mouth twisted into something close to pity. That scared me more than anything. "You're to report to her private chambers. Immediately. From today, you're her personal maid."

I stood up slowly. "Her maid."

"Day and night. You'll sleep in her servant's closet." Martha lowered her voice. "Whatever you did, girl, I hope it was worth it."

I thought of Zoe's smile when I walked into that bedroom.

Then I thought of what she might do with me, alone, behind a locked door.

"Did she say why?" I asked.

Martha was already walking away. Over her shoulder, she said, "She said she wants to keep a close eye on you."