Second Chance for the Barren Luna (Talia and Jason) novel Chapter 3

Talia’s POV

I had no choice but to accept Viki moving into Alpha’s packhouse like she belonged here, like she hadn’t stolen what wasn’t hers like the thief she was.

From that day, I chose to walk to the guest suite on my own, I became invisible.

Jason, no, the Alpha, no longer addressed me with any affection. He was attentive to Viki in ways he hadn’t been to me in years. He escorted her to meals, checked in with the healers constantly, and praised her for even the smallest effort.

And me?

I was ordered to be considerate.

I was ordered to be supportive.

I was ordered to give Viki whatever she wanted no matter how small.

He told me I was just a barren omega and that Viki, being the daughter of our top warrior, held noble status and should be treated with respect. His words destroyed what little pride I had left. Not because he was wrong about her rank, but because he had no idea who I truly was.

I was the daughter of the Werewolf King. I was the princess of the Silverfang Pack. I held more power in my bloodline than Viki could ever dream of.

And still, I said nothing.

What would be the point? He wouldn’t believe me. No one would.

I swallowed the truth and just went along with whatever they wanted. Pride would not protect me here. I just needed to survive.

Even Clara, my mousy little maid, who usually averted her eyes and submitted with the skittishness of a wolf two ranks below me, had finally cracked.

“I don’t understand, Luna,” Clara said one night as she brushed my hair.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“She’s not Luna, but everyone is treating her like she is. She’s overstepping. The way she struts around… it’s shameful,” Clara replied.

I met Clara’s eyes in the mirror. She was young and easily intimidated. I could see the anger in her brown eyes and even she had her limits.

“I know,” I murmured. “But it doesn’t matter. Let her keep thinking she’s Luna.”

Clara frowned. She looked as if she wanted to argue but she just sighed and said, “Yes, Luna.”

For a time, I endured all of Viki’s taunts.

I kept my head down. I performed my duties. I pretended not to hear the whispers in the halls or see the smirks exchanged behind my back as the pack slowly turned its back on me. I focused on what mattered: my routines, my responsibilities, and my rose garden.

Especially my rose garden.

It was the only space that was still mine, untouched by Viki’s vicious hands. It was a small courtyard nestled behind the west wing, overflowing with roses I had personally planted. Every bloom had a memory: the pale peach ones from our first festival, the white ones Jason once said matched my purity, and the dark crimson that reminded me of strength.

It was my sanctuary until she found it.

Viki came stomping into the garden one morning. Her face twisted with distaste as she eyed the roses in full bloom.

“Ugh, I hate roses. They are such old-fashioned flowers,” she said loudly, waving at the beds as if she was waving away a bad smell. “We should replace them with lavender, or maybe orchids. Something elegant.”

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