Chapter 2 THE GIRL WHO WAS NEVER SUPPOSED TO EXIST

### ALPHATED!

### Chapter Two: The Girl Who Was Never Supposed to Exist

Rose Luna had never believed in fate.

To her, fate was nothing more than a beautiful word people used when they were too afraid to admit that life was unfair. People were born into different circumstances, loved the wrong people, made terrible decisions, and sometimes lost everything without warning. There was nothing magical about it.

If anything, Rose believed life enjoyed making a fool of anyone who expected it to be kind.

She had learned that lesson early.

At eighteen, she had become remarkably good at pretending that nothing bothered her. She could smile when people insulted her, laugh when they underestimated her, and walk away from situations that would have left someone else crying in the bathroom.

But there was one thing she could never quite understand.

Why did her mother look at her sometimes as though she were waiting for something terrible to happen?

Rose noticed it most often at night.

Whenever she woke up thirsty and wandered into the kitchen, she would find her mother standing beside the window, staring into the darkness beyond their little house. The moment Rose entered the room, her mother would turn around and smile, pretending she had merely been checking the weather.

Rose had stopped asking questions because she had learned that her mother was capable of answering every question except the ones that mattered.

And tonight, as thunder rumbled somewhere beyond their neighborhood, Rose was about to discover that the truth had been hiding much closer than she imagined.

"Rose!"

Her mother's voice came from downstairs.

Rose groaned and pulled her pillow over her head.

"What?"

"Come downstairs. I need to speak with you."

"Can it wait until morning?"

"No."

There was something in that single word that made Rose open her eyes.

Her mother rarely sounded frightened. Strict, yes. Irritated, occasionally. Overprotective, almost always. But frightened?

Rose threw off her blanket, slipped her feet into a pair of slippers, and headed downstairs.

She found her mother standing beside the dining table with a small wooden box in her hands.

The box was old. Its edges had darkened with age, and a silver crescent moon had been carved into the lid. Rose had seen it before, tucked away inside the locked drawer of her mother's bedroom wardrobe, but she had never been allowed to touch it.

Now her mother was holding it as if it contained something capable of destroying their lives.

"What's that?" Rose asked.

Her mother glanced toward the windows before answering.

"Something that belongs to you."

Rose stared at her.

"Is this a prank? Because if it is, I should warn you that I'm too sleepy to appreciate it."

"Rose, please."

The seriousness in her mother's voice erased the smile from Rose's face.

She pulled out a chair and sat down.

"Okay. What's going on?"

Her mother placed the box on the table but kept one hand resting on its lid.

"Do you remember what I told you about your father?"

Rose's expression hardened.

Of all the subjects her mother could have chosen, that was the one she hated most.

"I remember that he left," she replied. "I remember you telling me that he wasn't the kind of man I should try to find. And I remember that every time I ask why, you suddenly have somewhere else to be."

"Your father didn't leave because he stopped loving you."

Rose let out a short, humorless laugh.

"That's convenient."

"He loved you more than you could ever understand."

"Then why wasn't he here?"

Her mother flinched.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Rain began tapping against the windows, soft at first, then harder, until the entire house seemed surrounded by the sound.

Finally, her mother opened the wooden box.

Inside lay a silver pendant shaped like a crescent moon. Its surface was unusually smooth, and a tiny dark-red stone sat at its center. Even beneath the kitchen lights, the stone seemed to hold a faint glow.

Rose leaned forward.

"That's pretty."

"It's yours."

"Why?"

"Because you are old enough to know that you aren't what everyone thinks you are."

Rose sat back.

"I'm sorry, what?"

Her mother lifted her gaze.

"You have spent your entire life believing that you're human."

Rose stared at her for three long seconds.

Then she laughed.

Not because anything was funny, but because she genuinely believed her mother had finally lost her mind.

"Okay. That's enough late-night television for you."

"Rose-"

"Mom, I'm serious. If this is some kind of family secret, just tell me. You don't have to invent a supernatural identity for me."

"I'm not inventing anything."

"Then explain it."

Her mother swallowed.

"Some families carry secrets that are older than the world you know. There are people living among humans who aren't entirely human themselves. They have their own laws, their own territories, and their own rulers."

Rose blinked.

"You're talking about werewolves."

"Yes."

Another silence followed.

Rose looked at the pendant, then at her mother.

Then she stood up.

"I'm going back to bed."

"Rose, listen to me!"

"No, you listen to me. I have school tomorrow, I have an assignment I haven't finished, and I am not about to sit here at midnight discussing werewolves with my own mother."

Her mother caught her wrist.

The moment their skin touched, Rose felt something strange.

Warmth spread through her palm, followed by a sudden pulse beneath her skin. It was so brief that she almost convinced herself she had imagined it.

But her mother felt it too.

Her fingers tightened around Rose's wrist.

"Oh, no."

Rose frowned.

"What?"

Her mother released her as though she had touched a flame.

"No. It can't be happening yet."

"Mom, you're scaring me."

Her mother looked at the pendant.

The tiny red stone had begun to glow.

And somewhere outside the house, something howled.

Rose froze.

It wasn't the ordinary howl of a stray dog echoing through the neighborhood. The sound was deeper, more powerful, and strangely mournful, as if whatever had produced it was calling for someone it had been searching for over an impossibly long time.

Her mother rushed to the windows and pulled the curtains shut.

"Go upstairs," she ordered.

Rose didn't move.

"What was that?"

"Go upstairs, Rose!"

"Not until you tell me what's happening!"

Her mother turned toward her, and Rose saw something she had never seen in her mother's eyes before.

Desperation.

"They've found you."

Rose's stomach dropped.

"Who?"

Before her mother could answer, three heavy knocks sounded against the front door.

Both women turned.

The knocking came again.

Three times.

Slow. Deliberate.

Then a man's voice spoke from the other side.

"By order of the Blood Moon Crown, open this door."

Rose looked at her mother.

Her mother had gone completely pale.

"No," she whispered.

The voice outside came again.

"We know the girl is inside."

Rose's heart began to pound.

"What do they want with me?"

Her mother grabbed the pendant from the box and pressed it into Rose's palm.

"Whatever happens, do not let them take this from you."

"Mom-"

"Do you understand me?"

The door shook beneath another forceful knock.

Rose closed her fingers around the pendant.

"Yes."

Her mother pulled her into a sudden, fierce embrace.

For one bewildering moment, Rose felt like a little girl again, protected by the only person she had ever trusted completely.

Then her mother whispered something against her hair.

"Forgive me for keeping you in the dark."

The front door burst open.

Three men entered the house.

They wore long black coats fastened with silver clasps, and each carried the same emblem on his chest: a crescent moon surrounding the outline of a wolf.

The man in front was tall, broad-shouldered, and perhaps in his forties. His dark hair was streaked with silver at the temples, while his pale eyes moved across the room with the cold precision of someone accustomed to being obeyed.

His gaze settled on Rose.

Then he stopped breathing for a moment.

It was subtle, but she noticed.

The man's eyes widened. His expression shifted from professional indifference to something dangerously close to disbelief.

He took one step toward her.

"Impossible."

Rose instinctively moved behind her mother.

"Who are you people?"

The man ignored her question.

Instead, he bowed his head.

Not deeply, but enough to make the other two men exchange startled glances.

"Miss Luna," he said, his voice suddenly careful. "You must come with us."

Her mother stepped between them.

"She isn't going anywhere."

The man's jaw tightened.

"Madam, this is no longer your decision."

"She is my daughter."

"And that," he replied, "is precisely the problem."

Rose felt her mother's hand find hers.

The man drew a folded document from inside his coat. Its paper looked ancient, its edges worn, and the seal pressed into the bottom was made of dark red wax.

"The Sacred Register has awakened," he announced. "A name erased from the records has appeared again. The royal council has ordered an immediate investigation."

He unfolded the document.

Rose couldn't understand the symbols printed across it, but she recognized the name written beneath them.

ROSE LUNA.

Her own name.

The man looked at her as though she were a mystery he had spent his entire life hoping never to encounter.

"According to the Sacred Register, you are the destined mate of Xander Sanguinara, heir to the Blood Moon throne."

The room fell silent.

Rose stared at him.

Then she looked at her mother.

Then back at him.

"Who?"

The man seemed offended by her confusion.

"Xander Sanguinara. The future Alpha King."

Rose's mouth fell open.

"You broke into my house to tell me that some stranger I've never met is supposed to be my boyfriend?"

"Mate," the man corrected.

"That doesn't make it better!"

"Rose," her mother whispered, gripping her hand.

But Rose was already shaking her head.

"No. Absolutely not. I don't care what kind of ancient book says otherwise. I don't belong to anyone."

For the first time, something resembling respect crossed the man's face.

"Those are bold words, Miss Luna."

"Good. Then you can write them down and take them back to your king."

One of the younger men stepped forward.

"Watch your tongue when speaking of His Highness."

Rose turned to him.

"Watch your entrance when breaking into someone else's house."

The younger man's eyes flashed an unnatural shade of gold.

A low growl rumbled from his chest.

Rose stumbled backward.

Her mother immediately moved in front of her.

"Touch her, and I will make certain the entire Blood Moon dynasty regrets it."

The older man raised one hand, stopping his companion.

"Enough."

He studied Rose again, but this time his gaze lingered on her face, searching for something he could not quite name.

"The Register has never been wrong," he said quietly. "Not in a thousand years."

"Then perhaps it's time it learned how to be wrong."

For a moment, nobody moved.

Then the man glanced at the pendant clenched in Rose's fist.

His entire expression changed.

"Where did you get that?"

Rose looked down.

The crescent pendant rested against her palm, its red stone glowing brighter than before.

Her mother tried to close Rose's fingers around it.

But it was too late.

The older man had already seen the mark engraved on its reverse: a crescent moon surrounded by seven tiny stars.

He took a sharp breath.

Then, to Rose's astonishment, he dropped to one knee.

The other two men followed immediately.

"Your Highness," the older man whispered.

Rose stared at him in horror.

"What are you doing?"

He bowed his head lower.

"Forgive us. We did not know."

Her mother closed her eyes.

And in that moment, Rose understood that the worst part of the night had not been the men breaking into their home, the impossible story about werewolves, or even the revelation that a stranger had somehow been assigned to her by an ancient book.

The worst part was that her mother wasn't surprised.

She had known.

She had known all along.

Rose turned toward her.

"Mom," she whispered, her voice trembling with anger and fear. "What am I?"

Her mother opened her mouth.

But before she could answer, the pendant burned hot in Rose's palm.

A strange sensation swept through Rose's body, like a door opening somewhere deep inside her. She staggered, clutching the edge of the table as the kitchen lights flickered.

For one brief instant, she heard a voice that did not belong to anyone in the room.

A woman's voice.

Soft, ancient, and filled with sorrow.

The last daughter has awakened.

Rose's knees weakened.

The voice continued.

The Blood Moon will come for her.

Then came a second voice.

A man's voice, distant but unmistakably commanding.

Find the girl. Bring her to me before the eclipse.

The pendant's light vanished.

Rose collapsed into her mother's arms.

And far beyond the human world, inside the palace of the Blood Moon dynasty, Xander Sanguinara woke from a dream he had been having since childhood.

He sat upright in his enormous bed, his breathing uneven, his golden eyes fixed on the darkness.

For the first time in eighteen years, the invisible bond he had always been told to trust had stirred.

A scent lingered in the air.

Rain.

Wild roses.

And something ancient enough to make the wolf inside him bow its head.

Xander pressed a hand against his chest.

"What was that?" he muttered.

The bedroom doors flew open.

His personal guard hurried inside and dropped to one knee.

"Your Highness, forgive the intrusion. The Sacred Register has changed."

Xander's expression hardened.

"Explain."

"The name that appeared beside yours on the night of your birth has been confirmed."

For eighteen years, Xander had lived beneath the weight of a destiny he had never chosen. The council had raised him to believe that his future mate would be the key to securing the kingdom, strengthening the royal bloodline, and preserving the ancient laws that held the werewolf territories together.

He had never questioned the Register.

He had simply assumed that, when the time came, he would meet the woman fate had chosen and decide what to do with the knowledge.

But now his guard was trembling.

"Who is she?" Xander demanded.

The guard hesitated.

"Her name is Rose Luna, Your Highness."

The moment he heard it, a sharp pulse of warmth spread through Xander's chest.

His wolf rose beneath his skin.

Mine.

The word thundered through his mind with such force that Xander gripped the edge of the bed.

He had never heard his wolf sound like that before.

Not when he fought. Not when he won. Not even when he was crowned heir to the most powerful werewolf dynasty in the world.

His wolf had never claimed anything with such absolute certainty.

Xander forced himself to stand.

"Where is she?"

"The royal council has dispatched a retrieval team. They should have located her by now."

Xander's gaze sharpened.

"Retrieval team?"

"Yes, Your Highness."

"Did I order anyone to retrieve her?"

The guard lowered his head.

"No."

Xander walked toward the window, looking out over the palace grounds. Beyond the iron gates, the kingdom stretched beneath a moonlit sky, its ancient towers and dark forests bathed in silver.

He had been taught that the Blood Moon dynasty was invincible.

He had been taught that the Sacred Register was sacred for a reason.

And he had been taught that a future Alpha King must never allow emotion to interfere with duty.

But something about the name Rose Luna made him suspect that the council had been keeping secrets even from him.

"Bring me the original Register," he ordered.

The guard hesitated.

"Your Highness, the council keeps it in the sealed chamber."

Xander turned.

"Did I stutter?"

The guard bowed and hurried away.

Left alone, Xander pressed his fingers against the place where his heart was still beating too fast.

He did not know Rose Luna.

He had never seen her face.

He did not know whether she was kind, cruel, arrogant, or afraid.

Yet his wolf was awake in a way it had never been before, straining against the boundaries of his control.

And somewhere inside him, a terrifying certainty began to take shape.

Whatever the council had done to hide Rose Luna from the world, they had not succeeded in severing the bond between them.

If the Sacred Register had finally revealed her name, then the truth was coming.

And Xander Sanguinara intended to discover why the most powerful werewolf dynasty in existence had spent eighteen years pretending his mate did not exist.

End of Chapter Two