After My Mate Rejected Me, Another Alpha Saved Me

The dining hall glittered with candlelight, silverware clinking against fine china as the pack celebrated Ace and Cassidy's engagement. I stood in the doorway, my hands trembling around the stack of letters I'd found. The yellowed paper felt like evidence of a crime—my family's betrayal.

"Florence!" Mother hissed when she spotted me. "You're not dressed for dinner. Get back to the kitchen."

I stepped forward anyway, my patched dress a stark contrast to the elegant gowns around me. Luna gave me courage, her presence stronger than it had been in years.

"I found them," I said, my voice barely above a whisper but growing louder with each word. "The letters. Ace's rejection letters."

The room fell silent. All eyes turned to me, then to the letters in my hand.

"You knew," I said, looking at Mother and Cassidy. "You knew he rejected me, and you let me wait five years."

Cassidy's face paled beneath her makeup. "Florence, you're making a scene."

"A scene?" My laugh came out brittle. "You stole my mate!"

I turned to Ace, whose expression remained unreadable. "Why did you save me if you were just going to throw me away?"

The silence stretched taut. I could hear my own heartbeat, feel Luna's pain mingling with mine.

"Tell me!" My voice cracked. "Was any of it real?"

Mother lunged forward, her hand connecting with my cheek in a stinging slap. "You ungrateful little—"

I stumbled backward but held my ground. "I just want the truth!"

Ace's eyes flickered—something like recognition, perhaps even regret—before hardening again. He stood slowly, his presence filling the room.

"Enough," he said, his voice deceptively soft.

Then it came—the Alpha Tone. A wave of power that hit me like a physical force.

"An Omega does not question her betters," he said, each word pressing down on me. "Cassidy is my choice."

My knees buckled. Despite Luna's desperate resistance, my body betrayed me, sinking to the floor. The letters scattered around me like fallen leaves.

"Cassidy is my choice," he repeated, looking down at me with cold eyes. "Remember your place."

---

Hours later, I scrubbed dishes in the kitchen, my cheek still stinging from Mother's slap. The pack house had emptied, everyone retiring after the drama of dinner. Only the staff remained, cleaning up the remnants of celebration.

I dunked a crystal glass into soapy water, watching it cloud with bubbles. Luna paced restlessly within me, still processing Ace's rejection.

"We are stronger than they think," she whispered in my mind. "We will survive this."

A shadow fell across the sink. I looked up to find Ace standing in the doorway, his broad shoulders blocking the exit. He looked different in the dim light—less like the monster who had forced me to my knees and more like the man who had once saved me.

"Water," he said curtly, moving to the faucet.

I stepped aside, keeping my eyes downcast as protocol demanded. But as he reached past me, something shifted in the air between us.

His nostrils flared. I watched his expression change—confusion replacing indifference.

"You smell..." he began, then stopped.

I knew what he meant. The kitchen was small, and without the artificial scents of the dining hall, my natural fragrance had become apparent—wildflowers and rain, the scent that had first drawn him to me five years ago.

He leaned closer, inhaling deeply. For a moment, his eyes softened, something like recognition flickering in their depths.

"Cassidy doesn't smell like this," he murmured, almost to himself.

My heart stuttered. Luna surged forward, desperate to connect with him.

"No," I whispered. "She uses those elixirs to—"

I stopped myself, but it was too late. His expression hardened again, walls slamming back into place.

"You're trying to seduce your sister's fiancé?" he growled, grabbing my wrist. "Is that your game?"

"Let go of me," I hissed, trying to pull away.

His grip tightened. "Stay away from me, Florence. Whatever game you're playing, it won't work."

"I'm not playing anything," I said, meeting his gaze despite the danger. "I just want the truth."

Something flickered in his eyes—doubt, perhaps, or confusion. But it vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

"The truth is that you're nothing to me," he said coldly. "Remember that."

He released my wrist and stalked away, leaving me alone in the kitchen with the lingering scent of wildflowers and rain—and the faintest trace of something that might have been regret.