The Alpha's Fake Luna Is the Lycan King's Mate

Eleanora POV:

The morning sun had revealed an empty space beside me in bed, the sheets cold. Another night Jaxon Slate, my Alpha, hadn't come home. For five years, I had told myself it was Pack business. But the silence from my inner wolf was no longer patient; it was a dead, hollow quiet. There was no pining, no howl of longing for its other half. Just... nothing. That nothing had finally pushed me out of our suite and down to the East Wing.

"Luna, Alpha's records are top secret."

Elder Arthur Slate said it flatly, and did not look up. I stood in the Pack's archive room, the scent of old paper and stale authority thick in the air. My own breath was trapped in my chest.

"I am his Mate," I insisted, more sharply than I wanted. "I have a right to know. It's been five years, and I don't feel the complete bond. It's not normal."

Arthur watched me, his old wolf assessing my challenge. He was Jaxon's great-uncle, a man whose loyalty was to the Slate lineage, not to the woman who was supposedly its Luna. He finally let out a slow breath. "Eleanora, a Mating is only real when the Alpha's Mark is recorded by the council and witnessed by the Moon Goddess. That is the law of our kind, for a thousand years."

The hair on my arms lifted. "So, where is our record?"

He stared at me, a flicker of something - pity? - in his dark eyes before it was gone. "In the archives, there is no Marking record for you and Alpha Jaxon."

The world went silent. The blood in my veins felt like it had turned to slush. No record. The phrase cracked open the entire foundation of my life. I gripped the edge of his heavy oak desk to keep myself from falling.

"Then... what are we?" The question was a raw whisper.

With a sigh that seemed to hold a sliver of regret, Arthur pulled a file from a locked drawer and pushed it across the desk. "This is a five-year contract. Today is the final day."

My hand trembled as I picked it up. The words swam before my eyes, then sharpened with brutal clarity. "Partnership Agreement." "Five-Year Term." And there, at the bottom, was Jaxon's signature, bold and damning.

I wasn't his Mate. I was an employee whose term had just expired.

Just then, Jaxon's scent - pine and winter air - drifted in from the hallway. The door swung open. He saw the contract in my hand, and his face, usually so composed, contorted with anger and a flash of panic.

Behind him stood a smaller woman, Kiley Hayes, his supposed ex-girlfriend. Her wavy brown hair framed a delicate face, and Jaxon's scent clung to her like a second skin. She cowered slightly behind him, but not before I saw the triumphant glint in her green eyes.

A small hand clutched her dress. A little boy, no older than four, peeked out from behind her legs. He had Jaxon's light brown eyes.

My inner wolf let out a silent, agonized scream. Not of jealousy. Of utter, absolute betrayal. He wasn't just not coming home to me. He was going home to them.

"Nora," Jaxon started, taking a step forward, his hand outstretched to take the papers. Guilt warred with the annoyance of being caught.

I flinched back, clutching the contract so tightly the edge bit into my palm, a sharp, grounding pain.

I lifted my chin and met his gaze, my own eyes burning. "Five years, Jaxon," I said, my voice dangerously level. "What was I to you?"

He looked away, rubbing the space between his brows - his telltale sign of frustration. "Nora, listen to me. It's complicated."

"Jax, don't be so harsh with Nora," Kiley murmured, her voice dripping with fake sympathy.

The little boy, Finn, glared at me with his father's eyes, full of childish hostility.

A laugh escaped my lips, a broken, watery sound. I looked at their perfect little family of three and saw myself for what I was: a complete and utter fool.

The laughter died in my throat. I met Jaxon's eyes one last time. Then, I ripped the contract in half and threw the pieces at his face.

I turned and walked out of the archive room without a backward glance.

Revenge. The word ignited in my mind, a wildfire that burned away five years of love and illusion.