After My Alpha Chose My Sister Over Me

Kinslee didn’t wait for a response. She brushed past me, the silk of my stolen dress whispering against the floorboards, leaving a trail of vanilla scent that made my empty stomach churn. I stood there for a moment in the gloom of the servants' hallway, the ghost of my past life screaming at me to run, to beg, to scream. But the cold of the Northern Territories had frozen my tears long ago. I wasn't the same girl who had died weeping in a dungeon. I reached into the pocket of my ragged cloak and wrapped my fingers around the cold, heavy silver coin hidden there. Its sharp edges bit into my skin, grounding me.

I turned and walked toward the music.

The double doors of the Great Hall were thrown open, spilling golden light into the courtyard. I stepped through, and the festive chatter died instantly. It was like walking into a painting I didn't belong in. The hall was suffocatingly warm, filled with the scent of roasted meats and expensive wine—luxuries I hadn’t tasted in three years. Hundreds of eyes turned to me. I saw the sneers of the pack warriors, the pitying glances of the visiting dignitaries, and the cold, hard stares of my parents. My father, the Beta, adjusted his lapel pin and looked away, ashamed not of his betrayal, but of my ragged appearance.

"Eleanor," a voice boomed from the dais.

Chandler stood there, holding a crystal goblet. He looked every inch the Alpha—tall, broad-shouldered, with hair like spun gold. In my last life, my heart would have fluttered. Now, I only saw the rot beneath the handsome mask. He didn't look happy to see me; he looked like a man disposing of trash.

He raised a hand, silencing the few whispers that remained. "Step forward."

I walked through the parting crowd, my worn boots thudding softly on the polished marble. I stopped at the base of the stairs, refusing to bow my head.

Chandler set his goblet down and looked at me with a practiced expression of regret that didn't reach his eyes. Beside him, Kinslee preened, her hand resting possessively on his arm.

"Eleanor Montgomery," Chandler announced, his voice amplified by his Alpha aura, causing the weaker wolves in the room to flinch. "You have returned from the North, but you have not returned whole. The pack needs a strong Luna. A Luna with a reputation as pure as the driven snow, not one tainted by weakness and... scandal."

A ripple of laughter went through the room. My mother, standing in the front row, covered her mouth with a delicate handkerchief, feigning sorrow while her eyes gleamed with triumph. They were pinning Kinslee’s sins on me. Again.

Chandler took a deep breath, his chest puffing out. "Therefore, for the good of the Crescent Moon Pack and the preservation of our lineage, I make this decree before the Council of Alphas."

The air in the room grew heavy, charged with the static of magic. I knew what was coming. I had lived it before. But this time, I wouldn't scream.

"I, Alpha Chandler Stephens," he bellowed, his voice cracking like a whip, "reject you, Eleanor Montgomery, as my mate and Luna."

A collective gasp filled the hall. Rejection was rare; public rejection was a calculated cruelty meant to destroy the soul.

He turned immediately to Kinslee, grabbing her hand and raising it high. "And I claim Kinslee Montgomery, a wolf of beauty and strength, as my true chosen mate and Luna!"

The pack erupted into cheers. My sister beamed, basking in the adoration that was supposed to be mine. Chandler looked down at me, waiting. He was waiting for the tears. He was waiting for me to fall to my knees and beg him to reconsider, just as I had done when he murdered me in that other timeline.

Instead, I straightened my spine. The silence that followed the cheers was deafening as I didn't move. I didn't cry. I didn't shake.

I looked Chandler dead in the eye, channeling every ounce of the Alpha blood my family tried to pretend I didn't have. I pulled the silver coin from my pocket, letting the light catch the intricate Lycan crest stamped on its face.

"I, Eleanor Montgomery," I said, my voice clear and steady, cutting through the murmurs, "accept your rejection."

The words hung in the air, heavy and final.

*Snap.*

I felt the bond shatter in my chest. It wasn't painful. It felt like a heavy chain falling away, leaving me light, free, and hollow.

Chandler, however, stumbled back as if he’d been punched. He clutched his chest, his face paling. The severance of a fated bond, even a rejected one, carried a backlash he clearly hadn't anticipated from a "weak" wolf. The crowd fell silent, confused by his reaction and my stoicism.

I didn't give them time to recover. I looked at my parents, then at my sister, etching their faces into my memory one last time. They were strangers to me now.

I gripped the silver coin in my palm, squeezing it until the sharp edge sliced into my flesh. A single drop of warm blood coated the metal. I closed my eyes, blocking out the confused whispers of the pack, and pushed my intent into the dormant metal, screaming with my mind across the miles.

*"I am ready."*

The response was instantaneous. It didn't come as a whisper, but as a roar that vibrated in the very marrow of my bones, dark, possessive, and terrifyingly powerful.

*"I am coming, my Queen."*