Broken Mate, Chosen Queen

Likitha M S Paranormal

#Stary Writing Academy V
Kira had always known what it meant to serve the bond.
When Alpha Dorian marked her, the pack rejoiced. A warrior mated to their leader—it was a union forged in fate and fire. But while the world celebrated, Kira made a silent choice: to sheath the blade she had once wielded with pride, to bury the fire that lived in her bones, and to become the Luna they needed her to be.
Graceful. Dutiful. Obedient.
She wore the silks, attended the councils, and smiled through every bite of her pride. She bore his mark like a crown and let them rewrite her into something soft—something small.
The warrior bled, but no one saw.
Until the omega arrived.
Pretty. Delicate. Barely old enough to know the weight of a pack's gaze, yet bold enough to curl against Dorian’s side where Kira once stood. The whispers began before the scent of the omega’s heat faded from the hallways. But the confirmation came soon after.
Pregnant.
“She’s just a need,” Dorian had said, when Kira confronted him in the stillness of their shared chamber. “It’s political. She’s fertile. You know how it works.”
Kira had stood there—barefoot, bare-necked, bare-souled—and stared at the man who had once asked her to be his anchor. And in that moment, something inside her snapped. Not like glass. No, glass shatters. This was quieter. A single strand breaking. The final thread of something once sacred.
She didn’t cry. She didn’t scream.
She took off her Luna ring, left it on the edge of their bed, and walked away as smoke rose behind her. The ceremonial silks—burning. The Luna crest—cracked.
They thought she’d broken.
They thought she was running away in shame.
But Kira wasn’t fleeing.
She was returning.
To her name.
To her tribe.
To the throne buried beneath her bloodline.
Long ago, before she became Dorian’s shadow, she was the last daughter of the Crimson Claw—an ancient lineage erased from the records and scattered into whispers. And though the world had forgotten, the blood had not.
Now, four Alphas hunt her trail. Not to drag her back. Not to beg for forgiveness.
But to kneel.
Each of them carries a fragment of the prophecy. Each of them has seen her in vision or dream. The Queen of the Forgotten. The Wolf of War. The Mate of Fire.
She was never meant to serve beside a throne.
She was born to rule.
And this time, Kira will not kneel.

Unfold