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Claimed By The War God: The Wolfless Luna's Second Chance

Qiang Weiwei

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Werewolf

50 Chapters

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I woke up on the freezing wooden planks of a ruined courtyard, memories flooding my brain like ice water. I was no longer a modern special forces agent, but Francesca Kelley, the disgraced, wolfless wife of a Pack Alpha. Before I could even process my new reality, the rotting door was kicked open. My husband's armed guards had come to throw me out into the deadly blizzard. My husband, Curtiss, was holding a grand Bonding Ceremony with his mistress in the main hall right at that moment. They were tearing down my freezing shack just to build a greenhouse for his new Luna. The original owner of this body had literally starved to death in the cold, begging for his love, only to be treated like rotting garbage. When my only loyal maid fell to her knees to beg for my life, they slapped her so hard her lip split open. I looked down at my pale, trembling hands. In this world, a werewolf without an inner wolf was considered lower than dirt, meant to be humiliated and discarded without a second thought. They all assumed I was still the same cowardly punching bag who would cry and accept my fate. "Francesca, pack your rags and get out!" I sneered, twisting my waist and slamming the arrogant servant spine-first into the floorboards. I wasn't going to die in the snow. I was going to crash that wedding, publicly reject the Alpha, and take back every single gold coin of my dowry.

Claimed By The War God: The Wolfless Luna's Second Chance Chapter 1

Francesca Kelley POV:

A heavy thud hit the back of my skull, and my eyes flew open. Dim light from the ruined side courtyard burned my retinas.

I drew in cold air, chest heaving, and pushed myself up off the hard wooden bed planks.

The searing agony of starvation and frostbite lingered deep in my bones. I have been reborn. I died right here in my past life - I begged my husband for mercy over and over, only to perish from hunger, cold and shattered body.

But death tore my soul away, hurling me across time into the modern world. For years I lived there, drilling relentlessly to master special‑forces combat, tactical thinking and lethal close‑quarters fighting.

I was Francesca Kelley, the disgraced wolfless wife of Curtiss Taylor, Pack Alpha of the Taylor territory. In this world, a werewolf with no inner wolf could not shift or use the mind‑link. To the nobles, I was worth less than dirt. In this life before death, I had been quiet and compliant. Now I carried hard‑earned modern combat knowledge

inside this fragile flesh. The weak, yielding wife they knew was dead.

I glanced down at my pale, thin hands. My fingertips shook from leftover fever. This body was still weakened by neglect, yet my mind held every strike, every joint lock, every trick I had learned in the modern world.

I curled my hands into tight fists until my knuckles popped. No more would I bow and suffer.

Bam!

The rotting wooden door to my room tore off its hinges and crashed to the floor. Wind and snow howled into the space.

A stout heavy‑set woman stomped inside, four armed pack guards behind her. Her gaze swept over me like I was trash.

"Francesca, grab your rags and get out!"

I narrowed my eyes, sorting through my native memories of this world. This was Martha Kowalski, personal servant to Delma Travis, my husband's mistress. I stayed seated on the bed edge and stared at her in silence.

Seeing I did not react, Martha thought I was still the weak target she was used to bullying. She barked a laugh and stepped forward, her leather boots crunching over dirty floorboards.

She folded her thick arms and lifted her chin.

"Lord Curtiss gave the order! Today is his Bonding Ceremony with Lady Delma. This shack will be torn down to build a greenhouse for the new Luna."

Before I moved, my Omega maid Chloe ran out from the small corner room. Her face went white. She threw herself in front of my bed, trembling.

"You cannot do this!" Chloe cried, voice breaking in fear. "My Lady still has a fever! If you cast her out into the snow now, she will die!"

Martha sneered and pulled her thick arm back.

Slap!

Sharp skin‑on‑skin sound bounced off the stone walls. Chloe screamed, blood spilling from her split lip as she fell hard to the floor.

The air in my lungs turned cold. I threw off the tattered blanket and set bare feet on the frozen wood, biting back the sting of ice against my skin.

I walked toward Martha. She rubbed her stinging wrist, a smug grin on her face.

Martha noticed me coming. Surprise flashed briefly in her eyes before rage took over. She raised her hand to strike my face.

"Wolfless garbage, how dare you glare at me?"

Her palm swung down. I shifted left. My left hand shot out, seized her thick wrist, and pressed my thumb hard into the nerve cluster of her joint.

"Actions speak louder than words."

I twisted my torso and dropped my weight. Using a standard special‑forces shoulder throw I had mastered in the modern realm, I lifted her heavy body and slammed her spine against the floor.

Floorboards creaked under the impact. Martha let out a pig‑like shriek, gasping for air. The four guards froze, mouths hanging open as they stared at the outcast standing over her. They had only ever known me as a helpless, quiet wife.

Martha tried to get up. I planted my bare‑but‑sturdy foot on her chest and pressed down, pinning her to the ground until her face turned purple, ignoring the sharp cold biting into my soles.

The four guards snapped out of shock. They drew iron swords from their waists and charged, roaring.

I hooked my toe under a broken bed slat, kicked it up and caught it. I moved between the four men and swung the wood.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

The heavy plank hit their sword wrists, the backs of their knees, and the soft spots under their throats. In three seconds, all four tall guards collapsed, clutching injured joints and screaming in pain.

I tossed the splintered wood aside, knelt, grabbed a handful of Martha's grey hair and pulled her head up.

"You said Curtiss will strip me of my Luna title?" My voice stayed soft, yet Martha's teeth chattered.

Blood covered her nose and mouth. She stared at me in terror, lips shaking without sound.

My eyes fell to her waist. It was the Taylor Pack's Alpha Token - the very symbol of Alpha authority over the entire territory, which Curtiss had dared to place around Delma's waist while I still lived, and she actually let Martha carry it to flaunt before me.

I reached out and ripped the Alpha Token from her belt. The sharp edge sliced through her leather belt and tunic, and she let out a high, panicked squeal.

I stood, tossed the blood‑stained Alpha Token high and caught it hard in my palm, looking down at the moaning bodies at my feet.

"Take your men and leave."

I kicked Martha in the ribs. She tumbled out the broken door like a sack and rolled twice in the snow.

The four guards scrambled onto their hands and knees, dragged Martha into the blizzard, not even stopping to pick up their swords.

I turned, pulled stunned Chloe to her feet, and wiped blood off her lip with my sleeve.

"My Lady... you..." Chloe's eyes widened, breathing fast.

"Get a basin of warm water and help me dress."

I walked to the cracked bronze mirror and looked at my pale, sharp reflection. After cleaning up, I tied my long silver‑white hair high. I pulled a dark red heavily embroidered gown from the bottom of my trunk.

Before I left my chamber, I tucked the folded Rejection Pact scroll, which I'd stashed away long ago, deep inside my bodice.

I closed my hand around the cold Alpha Token, the weight of it thrumming like a living claim to power. Then I pushed open the courtyard gate and stepped into swirling snow. I walked down the stone corridor toward the main castle hall.