After My Alpha Rejected Me for His “Dead” Mate

The letter arrived on a Tuesday morning, tucked inside a bundle of dried lavender.

Amanda brought it to the table where I sat with my journal open, reviewing my wolfsbane timeline for what felt like the hundredth time. She set the lavender down without a word, and I knew immediately. Eleanor's bundles always smelled different—sharper, more deliberate. This one had rosemary woven through the stems in a pattern I recognized. Three short stems, two long, one short again. The pattern we'd used for years when she needed to tell me something the rest of the pack couldn't know.

I pulled the letter free. The paper was cream-colored, expensive, folded twice. Eleanor's handwriting covered one side in tight, careful script.

*Jenna—*

*The Shadowridge Centennial Ceremony is in eight days. The Lycan Council is sending a representative. Mateo has no Luna to present. The pack elders are concerned. Dorian is furious. Romina cannot manage the preparations; she has tried twice and failed both times. Yesterday she screamed at the kitchen staff for twenty minutes because the tablecloths were ivory instead of white.*

*He will come for you. Be ready.*

Below that, in smaller letters: *The east wing corridor door will be unlocked.*

I read it twice. Then I set it down and reached for my journal. I flipped to a blank page and started sketching from memory—the layout of the Shadowridge great hall, the raised dais at the north end, the long tables arranged in rows. I marked the antechamber off the east corridor with a small X. Thin walls. Connecting door. Audible from outside if someone stood close enough.

Amanda leaned over my shoulder. "What are you doing?"

"Planning," I said.

She looked at the sketch, then at Eleanor's letter, then at me. Her eyes narrowed. "Planning what?"

I didn't answer. I kept drawing.

---

Caden arrived three days later.

I was sitting on Amanda's porch with Barnaby at my feet when I heard the car pull up. The engine cut, a door slammed, and then Caden was walking across the yard in his patrol jacket with an envelope in his hand. He stopped at the bottom of the porch steps and looked up at me.

He looked tired. There were shadows under his eyes I hadn't seen before, and his jaw was tight in a way that said he hadn't been sleeping well either.

"Jenna," he said quietly.

I didn't stand. "Caden."

He held out the envelope. "I have a message from Alpha Mateo."

I took it. The paper was thick, formal, embossed with the Shadowridge crest at the top. I opened it and read.

*You are summoned to return to Shadowridge Pack territory for the evening of the Centennial Ceremony. You will stand beside Alpha Mateo as his Luna for the duration of the event. You will leave immediately afterward. This is not a request.*

No apology. No explanation. Just a command.

I folded the letter carefully and looked up at Caden. He was watching me with something that might have been shame, though he was trying hard to hide it.

"He's serious," Caden said. His voice was flat. "The Lycan Council is sending someone. He needs a Luna beside him or the pack looks unstable."

"And Romina?" I asked.

Caden's jaw tightened further. He didn't answer.

Behind me, the screen door slammed open. Amanda came out like a storm, her face blazing. "Are you kidding me? He banishes her, strips her mark, lets that psycho frame her for assault, and now he wants her back for one night so he doesn't look bad in front of the Council?"

Caden flinched. "Amanda—"

"No." She came down the steps fast, stopped two feet from him, and jabbed one finger at his chest. "You tell your Alpha that if he wants a Luna for his stupid ceremony, he can drag Romina up there and let the Council see exactly what kind of she-wolf he chose over Jenna."

Caden looked at me. Not at Amanda. At me. His eyes were tired and guilty and something else I couldn't name. "Jenna," he said quietly. "Please."

I stood. Barnaby rose with me, pressing against my leg. I looked at Caden for a long moment, then at the letter in my hand.

"I accept," I said.

Amanda's head whipped around. "What?"

Caden's eyebrows rose. "You—you do?"

"I do." I folded the letter again and slipped it into my jacket pocket. "But I'll need access to the east wing of the great hall for pre-ceremony preparation. Private access. Tell him that."

Caden blinked. He looked confused, but he nodded slowly. "I'll tell him."

"Good," I said. I turned and walked back into the cottage. Barnaby followed.

Behind me, I heard Amanda say something sharp and low to Caden. I heard his boots crunch on gravel as he walked back to his car. I heard the engine start and fade into the distance.

I sat down at the kitchen table, pulled out my journal, and opened it to the sketch of the great hall. I traced the X over the antechamber with my fingertip.

Amanda came in a moment later. She stood in the doorway with her arms crossed, staring at me.

"You're going back," she said. It wasn't a question.

"Yes."

"Why?"

I looked up at her. "Because he's going to give me exactly what I need."

Her eyes narrowed. Then, slowly, she smiled. It was sharp and cold and satisfied. "Tell me."

I did.

---

We spent the evening going over every detail.

I sat at the table with my journal open, pointing to the sketch. Amanda sat across from me, her dagger out, turning it slowly in her hands as she listened.

"The antechamber is here," I said, tapping the X. "Off the east corridor. The walls are thin—original construction, never reinforced. If someone stands in the corridor outside, they can hear everything said inside."

"And you're going to get Romina in there," Amanda said.

"Yes."

"How?"

I met her eyes. "By being weak. By crying. By giving her exactly what she wants—a chance to gloat."

Amanda's smile widened. "She won't be able to resist."

"No," I said. "She won't."

"And Mateo?"

I traced the corridor on the sketch. "Eleanor will make sure the connecting door is unlocked. He'll be close. All he has to do is listen."

Amanda set the dagger down and leaned back in her chair. She looked at me for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then she said, quietly, "I'm proud of you."

I didn't answer. I reached across the table and gripped her wrist. Just for a moment. Then I let go.

---

That night, I wrote the message to Eleanor.

I kept it short. Clinical. No emotion. Just information.

*The antechamber off the east corridor will be in use during the ceremony. Ensure the connecting corridor door is unlocked. I will handle the rest.*

I sealed it, gave it to Amanda to send through Hollowcreek's courier network, and went to bed.

Eleanor's reply came the next morning. Three words, written in her tight script at the bottom of a blank page.

*I understand. Go.*

I folded the note, tucked it into my journal, and looked at Barnaby. He was lying by the door, watching me with his amber eyes.

"One more week," I told him.

He tilted his head.

I pulled my journal close and opened it to the sketch of the great hall. I stared at the X over the antechamber. My hand was steady. My pulse was not.

Seven days until the ceremony.

Seven days until Mateo heard every word.