After My Alpha Left, Ethan Saved Me

The rogue's claws raked across my flank, sending searing pain through my body. I snarled, baring my teeth as I circled him. Blood matted my silver-gray fur, but I refused to back down. This fight had become more than survival—it was the release of a year's worth of pain and humiliation.

*Don't let him get behind you!* Luna urged as I narrowly dodged another lunge.

The rogue was larger, his mangy body scarred from countless battles, but my rage made me deadly. I feinted left before snapping at his exposed throat, my teeth grazing flesh before he pulled away with a pained yelp.

A chorus of howls suddenly cut through the forest—pack warriors approaching fast. The rogue hesitated, his yellow eyes darting toward the sound. I used his momentary distraction to launch myself at him, my jaws clamping down on his shoulder with a force that surprised even me.

Blood filled my mouth as the rogue thrashed beneath me. Just as he twisted to break free, a massive brown wolf burst into the clearing, followed by four others. My grip faltered as I recognized the lead wolf's scent—pine and cedar, similar to Nathan's but warmer, earthier.

Beta Ethan.

The rogue saw his opportunity and bucked me off, sending me tumbling. Before I could regain my footing, Ethan launched himself between us, his powerful body a shield as he snarled at my attacker. The pack warriors fanned out, surrounding the rogue.

*He's protecting us,* Luna whispered, her surprise matching my own.

The rogue, realizing he was outnumbered, made a desperate lunge for the gap between two warriors. Ethan anticipated the move, cutting him off with frightening precision. Their bodies collided in a blur of teeth and claws. I didn't hesitate—I leapt forward, attacking from the opposite side. Together, Ethan and I drove the rogue back until he was cornered.

With one final, coordinated strike, Ethan went for the throat while I tore at the rogue's hind leg. The sound of breaking bone echoed through the clearing as the rogue collapsed, whimpering. Ethan's jaws closed around the rogue's neck—not to kill, but to subdue.

Two warriors shifted back to human form to restrain the now-defeated rogue. As the immediate danger passed, I became acutely aware of my injuries. My front leg throbbed where the rogue's teeth had grazed it, and my side burned from his claws.

Ethan approached slowly, his wolf's blue eyes—identical to Nathan's yet somehow warmer—assessing my wounds. He nudged me gently with his muzzle, a gesture of concern that made Luna whine softly.

*Shift back,* she urged. *We need to tend our wounds.*

I let the change take me, bones and muscles reforming until I knelt in human form, clutching my bleeding arm. Ethan shifted moments later, his naked form briefly visible before one of the warriors tossed him a pair of shorts.

"Luna Claire," he said, his voice deep but gentle as he quickly dressed. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," I managed, though the gash on my arm suggested otherwise. "And it's just Claire now, isn't it? After yesterday's ceremony..."

Pain flashed across Ethan's face—not physical pain, but something deeper. "You're still Luna until a formal rejection," he said quietly, offering me his hand. "Let me help you back to the pack house."

One of the warriors approached, his expression concerned. "Beta, I'm injured as well. The rogue caught my leg before you arrived."

I noticed then that several warriors bore wounds from what must have been an earlier confrontation with the rogue. Without thinking, I straightened. "I can help. I trained with our pack's healer before the merger."

Ethan looked surprised but nodded. "Marcus, bring the healing kit from your pack."

Soon I was applying herbal poultices to the warriors' wounds, my own pain temporarily forgotten as I worked. When only Ethan and I remained, he gestured to my arm.

"Your turn," he said, taking the poultice from my hands. His fingers were surprisingly gentle as he pressed the healing herbs to my wound, his touch lingering longer than necessary. Our eyes met, and something electric passed between us.

"Thank you," I whispered, unsure if I was thanking him for the medical attention or for arriving when he did.

"You fought well," he replied, his voice low. "I've never seen someone your size take on a rogue that large."

"I had a lot of anger to work through," I admitted.

His expression softened. "Nathan was wrong to leave you yesterday. The entire pack thinks so."

The mention of Nathan broke whatever moment we'd been sharing. I pulled away, the wound on my arm nothing compared to the one in my heart.

---

That night, I couldn't sleep. My mind kept replaying the fight with the rogue, Ethan's unexpected gentleness, and beneath it all, the constant ache of Nathan's rejection. I needed answers.

The pack house was silent as I slipped from my chambers, barefoot to muffle my steps. Nathan's private wing was in the east section of the house—a place I'd rarely been welcome. The guards were absent, likely called away for some duty or another.

I followed Nathan's scent down a corridor I'd never noticed before, hidden behind a bookshelf in his study. My heart pounded as I descended a narrow staircase, emerging into a chamber that stole my breath.

Two displays dominated the room. On the left, an elaborate setup of silver candles, moon crystals, and traditional werewolf mating offerings—a proposal arrangement fit for royalty. A small card beside it read: "For my silver-eyed she-wolf, when I find you."

On the right, a stack of papers caught my eye. I moved closer, my hands trembling as I lifted the top sheet. The formal rejection document was already signed by Nathan, dated for tomorrow—my name the only blank left to fill.

My knees buckled as the truth hit me like a physical blow. Nathan had never intended to honor our bond. While I'd spent a year trying to win his love, he'd been planning to discard me the moment he found his mystery woman.

Luna howled in anguish inside me, the sound echoing in my mind as I clutched the rejection papers to my chest. In that moment, something within me hardened. The pain transformed, crystallizing into something new and dangerous.

If Nathan wanted rejection, I would give it to him—but on my terms, not his.