After My Alpha Chose Her, I Fought Back

The contract was signed in blood. My blood. His blood. Mixed together on ancient parchment that bound me to Alpha Ethan Hayes for the next five years.

"The east wing," he said, not bothering to look at me as Beta James led me through the sprawling pack house. "You'll stay there."

I nodded, though neither man was watching for my response. The weight of my new title—Luna Hayes—pressed down on my shoulders like a physical burden. A title purchased with desperation and sealed with a loveless ceremony witnessed only by James, whose kind eyes held a sympathy that made my chest ache.

"My private quarters in the west wing are off-limits," Ethan continued, his voice devoid of emotion. "You'll appear at necessary pack functions, runs, and gatherings. You'll maintain the image of a devoted Luna. Beyond that, I expect nothing."

*And offer nothing in return except financial security and pack protection*, I thought but didn't say. The arrangement was clear: I would be his Luna in name only, a shield against the humiliation Victoria had left in her wake, while my mother would receive the medical care she desperately needed.

James stopped before an ornate door carved with silver moons. "These will be your quarters, Luna," he said, the title still awkward on his tongue.

"Olivia," I corrected softly. "When we're alone, please."

Something flickered across his face—surprise, perhaps—before he nodded. "Of course."

Ethan remained in the hallway as James showed me the suite: a sitting room decorated in cool blues and silvers, a bedroom larger than my entire rogue dwelling, a private bathroom with a tub I could swim in. Luxury beyond anything I'd known, yet as cold as a prison cell.

"I'll leave you to settle in," James said finally. "Dinner is at seven in the main hall. Alpha Ethan expects you there."

When the door closed behind him, I sank onto the edge of the bed, my rented dress from the ceremony still clinging to my skin. Lyra whimpered inside me, confused by our new surroundings, the unfamiliar scents, the absence of pack bonds.

*We'll be okay*, I assured her silently. *We've survived worse*.

But as I unpacked my meager belongings—a few handmade dresses, my design sketches, a small photo of my mother—I wondered if that was true.

---

The first pack run came three days later, announced through a curt mind-link that startled me awake before dawn.

*Pack run. East clearing. Ten minutes.*

Ethan's voice in my head felt like an intrusion, cold and commanding. I scrambled from bed, heart racing as I pulled on the simplest clothes I owned. No time to prepare, no time to steady myself for what would be my first official appearance as Luna.

The clearing buzzed with activity when I arrived, pack members stretching and chatting in the pre-dawn light. Conversations died as I approached, curious and judgmental eyes tracking my every move. I lifted my chin, channeling confidence I didn't feel.

Ethan stood apart from the others, his powerful frame silhouetted against the lightening sky. He acknowledged my presence with the barest nod before addressing the pack.

"Northern border patrol. Standard formation."

Shifts rippled through the crowd, human forms giving way to wolves of various colors and sizes. I hesitated, suddenly aware of how my rogue upbringing would show in my running style, my lack of formal training.

Ethan's amber eyes found mine. *Shift*, came his command through our link. *Now*.

I let Lyra take over, my body contorting as fur replaced skin. My wolf was smaller than most, with unusual gray-blue coloring that immediately marked me as an outsider among the silver and brown wolves of the Hayes pack.

The run began without ceremony, the pack moving as one fluid unit through the forest. I struggled to keep pace, my legs burning as we covered unfamiliar territory. Rogue wolves run for survival, not patrol—short bursts of speed, not this relentless endurance.

I faltered on a steep incline, my paw slipping on loose stones. Before I could recover, a massive black wolf circled back, towering over me. Ethan's wolf—Kael—his amber eyes flashing with irritation.

He didn't help me up. Instead, he circled me once, a low growl rumbling from his chest. The message was clear: *Keep up. Don't embarrass me*.

By the time we returned to the pack house, my legs trembled with exhaustion, and I could taste blood where I'd bitten my tongue to keep from whimpering. I shifted back in the privacy of my quarters, wincing at the bruises forming along my legs and ribs.

A soft knock at my door startled me. I pulled on a robe, expecting Ethan with more criticism. Instead, the hallway was empty save for a small jar on the floor—healing salve, its herbal scent unmistakable.

I glanced down the corridor just in time to see James disappear around a corner, his silent kindness more devastating than Ethan's coldness.

I clutched the jar to my chest and closed the door, wondering how many more runs I would have to endure, how many more days of pretending to be something I wasn't.

Lyra curled up inside me, exhausted and confused. *We are alone here*, she whimpered.

*No*, I thought, looking at the jar of salve. *Not completely*.