Dumping the Female Alpha

The moon hung high in the sky, bathing the Silverclaw territory in a pale glow. Dylan leaned against the couch, exhausted from a day of cleaning. His phone felt cold in his hand as he idly scrolled through his social media feed, the empty packhouse around him echoing the hollowness in his chest.

A midnight photo caught his eye. A sprawling sky filled with stars, a lone girl’s silhouette holding a box of strawberry tarts in the corner of the frame. The post was from him—Oliver. Dylan’s thumb hovered over the screen, his jaw tightening as the realization struck him again.

He had been stalking Oliver’s account weeks ago, following his posts, his life, his interests. It wasn’t for curiosity's sake anymore; it was confirmation. The specific scent of cologne Lily always insisted he wear, the pens she bought for his minimal duties in the pack, and her obsession with strawberry tarts—all of it mirrored Oliver’s preferences.

“Was I ever more than just a replacement?” Dylan muttered bitterly, tossing the phone onto the couch. He ran a hand through his dark hair, his eyes clouded with memories.

For a moment, the anger surged, but it fizzled just as quickly, replaced by a numb acceptance. He had asked himself this question too many times. The answer never changed.

It was nearing midnight when Lily returned home, her long black coat swishing behind her. She didn’t have the strawberry tarts she’d promised, not that Dylan expected her to. She stepped inside, her sharp amber eyes scanning the room.

“Something feels… off. Did you move something?” she asked, tilting her head.

“I cleared out some unused items today,” Dylan replied, his tone casual.

Lily raised a brow but didn’t press further. “Hmm. Makes sense.” She shrugged, unbuttoning her sleeves and rolling them up.

Dylan watched the female Alpha from the corner of his eye, noting her ease, her complete disinterest in his words. If she cared, she would’ve noticed the missing vases they once bought together or the carefully packed boxes lining the closet. But Lily’s thoughts were elsewhere, as always.

“Where can I get a custom wolf wood carving?” she asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

Dylan blinked, caught off guard. “Wolf carving?”

“Yeah,” she replied, pulling out her phone and scrolling through a photo. Of course, that photo was familiar.

Dylan’s sighed heavily, but he masked it with a faint smile. “I can carve one for you.”

“You?” She paused, as if realizing the oddity of the request. For a moment, something like guilt flickered across her face. Perhaps because she was asking her fated mate to do something that was meant for another man. But it was gone in an instant. “Alright. If you’re sure.”

Dylan nodded, keeping his voice steady. “I’ll make it perfect.”

Late into the night, Dylan stayed at the small workbench in the corner of the packhouse, the rhythmic scraping of the carving knife filling the silence. He poured everything into the wooden wolf, tracing its sharp lines and delicate details with precision.

As he worked, his thoughts churned. Memories of the past two years played like a broken record. The knowing glances from other pack members, their cruel words whispered just loud enough for him to hear.

“I don’t know what she sees in him, I know that mateship is sacred, but having a weak man as our she-Alpha's mate is a bit...” one had sneered at a recent gathering.

“A nobody? Not even a power Alpha or a Beta? She deserves someone like Beta Oliver instead.”

“Maybe she just pities him. Poor guy doesn’t have the spine to stand up to her.”

Their words had cut deep, but Dylan had endured them for Lily’s sake. Now he realized that even if the pack didn’t want him, neither did she.

By the time dawn broke, the carving was finished. Dylan ran his fingers over the smooth surface, his hands trembling. “There. It’s done,” he whispered, exhaustion weighing down his voice.

When Lily came out of her room, he handed it to her. She took the piece, her eyes scanning it with a rare glint of appreciation. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

Dylan gave her a tired smile. “No need to thank me. As long as you’re happy…” His voice trailed off, but she was already walking away.

The days that followed were quiet. Lily was rarely home, spending her time with Oliver now that he was back from university abroad.

He overheard whispers from the pack as he walked through the territory.

“I heard Beta Oliver’s back days ago. Maybe Alpha Lily will finally have a real partner. Or even better, she'll marry him instead of that weak mate of hers.”

“That damn Dylan doesn’t belong here. She deserves someone strong.”

Their voices cut like knives, but Dylan kept his head down. He was used to it. Instead, he quietly packed his belongings, leaving the packhouse emptier each day.

One evening, his phone buzzed unexpectedly. The voice on the other end was hurried. “Dylan? It’s Ethan. Alpha Lily’s drunk. Can you come pick her up?”

“Drunk?” Dylan’s brows furrowed. Lily never drank to the point of being tipsy or worse, drunk.

Without hesitation, he shifted into his wolf form, his lean black figure racing through the forest toward the location Ethan had given him. The scent of alcohol and unfamiliar wolves reached him as he approached the private room.

The door was slightly ajar, and Dylan’s sharp hearing picked up faint murmurs.

“Lily, you’ve had too much,” a man’s voice said softly, laced with concern.

Dylan’s silently pushed the door open. Inside, he saw Lily leaning against Oliver, her amber eyes half-lidded as she whispered something only he could hear. Oliver’s arm was wrapped protectively around her waist, his expression a mix of worry and tenderness.

They looked like they belonged together.