From Rejected Omega To The Supreme Luna

Four years ago, I walked into liquid silver fire to drag the Alpha heir out of a burning wreck.

The silver melted the skin off my back, leaving me a topographic nightmare of scars, while my inner wolf went dormant to survive the pain.

I thought my sacrifice meant something.

But when Julian finally woke from his coma, he didn't look at me with love. He looked at my burns with pure disgust.

"Who let this broken Omega in here?" he sneered.

He pulled Estelle—the woman who had fled the scene without a scratch—into his arms.

"This," he declared, burying his face in her flawless neck, "is the scent of my savior. Not you. You smell like a chemical spill."

He treated me like a leper in my own pack. He let his sister slash my dress to expose my "ugly" back to dinner guests.

On the day he was forced to marry me for PR, he drove us to the altar with Estelle in the backseat.

When she faked a panic attack, claiming the wolfsbane I warned her about was "anxiety," Julian slammed on the brakes in the middle of a storm.

"Get out," he commanded, unlocking my door.

"Julian, we're ten minutes from the wedding."

"Estelle is dying! You selfish monster, get out!"

He kicked me out of the Rolls Royce, leaving me standing in the mud in my white silk gown.

As his taillights faded, I didn't cry. I closed my eyes and grabbed the frayed bond in my mind.

"I, Ember Tucker, reject you, Julian Copeland."

Snap.

He thought he was discarding a broken toy. He didn't realize he had just rejected the legendary White Wolf—and his only chance at survival.