After My Alpha Chose My Sister Over Me

The annual Moon Festival was supposed to be a celebration of the Goddess and the pack’s unity. For me, it was a parade of humiliation. The air was thick with the scent of roasted venison and pine, mingled with the laughter of pack members who pretended I was invisible. Or worse, those who stared with open disgust.

Dressed in a drab, oversized servant’s uniform that hung loosely on my thinning frame, I balanced a tray of champagne flutes. My hands trembled. Every clink of glass against glass sounded like a judgment. I kept my eyes on the grass, navigating the crowd, trying to avoid the dais where Ryker sat. He looked regal, powerful—and completely captivated by Natalia, who was preening in a silver gown that clung to her curves.

"Angelina."

The sharp hiss of my name made me freeze. A hand clamped around my upper arm, nails digging into the tender flesh. I didn't need to look up to know it was my mother, Margaret. She didn't smell like a mother; she smelled like cold ambition and expensive perfume.

"Come with me," she ordered, her voice low and dangerous. "Now."

She dragged me away from the festivities, behind the heavy canvas of the supply tents where the music faded into a dull thrum. I stumbled, nearly dropping the tray, but she slapped it out of my hands. The glasses shattered, sparkling shards littering the dirt.

"Look at you," she spat, her face twisted in a sneer. "Pathetic. You couldn't hold an Alpha's attention for three days, let alone three years. You’ve shamed this family, Angelina. You’ve made us a laughingstock."

"Mother, please—" I started, but she shoved me backward.

"I am fixing your mess," she interrupted. "If you can't be a Luna, you can at least be useful currency."

She gestured into the shadows. A figure stepped out, and my blood turned to ice. It was a Lycan, but not like the noble warriors of the stories. This man was hunched, his skin covered in grime and weeping sores, his aura reeking of rot and madness. He was a feral outcast, someone the pack usually killed on sight.

"He needs a mate to breed with," my mother said coldly, as if she were selling a used car. "He has a small territory on the southern border. It’s a strategic buffer zone. He agreed to the alliance in exchange for... you."

"No," I whispered, backing away until my spine hit a tree. "You can't do this. I’m your daughter."

"I have one daughter," Margaret replied, her eyes devoid of love. "Natalia. You are just a burden."

She shoved me toward the feral male. He grinned, revealing yellow, jagged teeth, and lunged. His hand, sticky and hot, clamped onto my wrist. Pure terror surged through me, overriding my exhaustion. My free hand scrabbled against a nearby table, fingers closing around the neck of a heavy wine bottle.

I didn't think. I swung.

The bottle connected with the side of his head with a sickening crack. Red wine exploded like blood. The Lycan roared, stumbling back and releasing me. I didn't wait to see if he fell. I turned and ran, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.

I tore through the underbrush, gasping for air, heading toward the safety of the main bonfire. But just as I broke through the treeline, a figure stepped into my path.

Natalia.

She stood perfectly still, blocking my way. She wasn't surprised. She was smiling.

"Going somewhere, sister?" she asked, her voice smooth as silk.

"Mother... she tried to..." I gasped, pointing back at the darkness.

"Oh, I know," Natalia said, stepping closer. "But we can't have you running off and ruining the mood, can we? Ryker needs a reason to get rid of you permanently. Simply being an Omega isn't enough."

Before I could react, Natalia reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, dark vial. She shoved it into the pocket of my apron. Then, with a violent jerk, she ripped the bodice of her own silver gown, exposing her shoulder. Her claws elongated, and she raked them down her own cheek, drawing three lines of bright red blood.

Then, she screamed. It was a bloodcurdling sound of fake terror.

"Help! Guards! Ryker!"

"Natalia, stop!" I cried, reaching out, but guards were already swarming us. Ryker burst through the crowd, his Alpha aura flaring so hot it nearly brought me to my knees.

"She attacked me!" Natalia sobbed, collapsing into Ryker’s arms, pointing a trembling finger at me. "She’s working with the rogues! She tried to kill me because she wants you back!"

"Liar!" I screamed, but a guard backhanded me, sending me sprawling into the dirt.

Ryker looked at Natalia’s bleeding face, then at me. His expression was terrifyingly blank. "Search her."

The Beta ripped my apron off, reaching into the pocket. He pulled out the vial Natalia had planted. He uncorked it and sniffed. "Rogue scent masking agent. And wolfsbane."

A collective gasp went through the crowd. In the werewolf world, conspiring with rogues was treason. Using wolfsbane was a death sentence.

"I didn't!" I pleaded, looking at Ryker. "She planted it! My mother tried to sell me to a feral! Please, Ryker, look at me! I was your wife for three years!"

Ryker didn't look at me. He looked at the vial, then at Natalia’s tears. When he finally turned his gaze to me, there was nothing left—no history, no pity, not even anger. Just cold, hard duty.

"Angelina Rogers," he announced, his voice booming over the crackle of the bonfire. "For the crime of treason and attempted murder of the future Luna, I sentence you to exile."

Exile. It was usually a chance to survive as a rogue. But Ryker wasn't finished.

"You are to be taken to the Dead Zone," he commanded.

The crowd went silent. The Dead Zone was a frozen wasteland north of our territory. No shelter. No food. Only madness and death. It was an execution without the blade.

"Ryker, please," I whispered, the fight draining out of me. "You’re killing me."

He turned his back, wrapping his arm around Natalia. "Take her away. If she returns, kill her on sight."

Two warriors grabbed my arms, dragging me backward toward the waiting SUV. I watched my family—my mother smirking in the shadows, Natalia burying her face in Ryker’s chest—get smaller and smaller. I didn't scream anymore. I simply let the darkness take me.