From Rejected Omega To The Royal White Wolf

I stood in the rain, watching my ex-mate place fresh white roses next to a toxic silver chain on my headstone.

The epitaph read *Beloved Daughter*, which was laughable.

Five years ago, I called my father from a mangled car wreckage, bleeding out. Instead of sending an ambulance, he asked if the car was salvageable.

Then Clayton took the phone. He didn't offer help. He used the Alpha Command to reject me while I was dying, all because I was a "weak" wolf and his new favorite, Ainsley, needed his attention.

They left me to die in the gutter to protect their reputation.

Tonight, I walked into their desperate charity gala, wearing a dress worth more than their entire failing pack.

My father didn't weep with relief at my resurrection. He looked at me like a stain on his carpet.

"You ungrateful brat!" my aunt shrieked, slapping me across the face hard enough to draw blood. "You were supposed to stay dead! You're ruining Ainsley's night!"

They signaled security to dump me in the alley, thinking I was still the powerless girl they broke.

They didn't notice the air in the ballroom turn heavy with ozone. They didn't feel the crushing weight of a true predator entering the room.

Until the double doors exploded inward.

A man with eyes like molten gold stepped through the dust, his terrifying aura forcing every wolf in the room to their knees.

He looked at the red mark on my cheek and let out a roar that shook the chandeliers.

"WHO TOUCHED MY MATE?!"

My father trembled on the floor, looking between the enraged Alpha King and me. "Mate? But... she is nothing."

I smiled, my eyes flashing silver.

"Hello, husband," I whispered. "Let the execution begin."

Chapter 1

Ivy POV:

The rain in the Dillard Pack territory always smelled like *wet rot and decay*. It was a fitting scent for a place dying from the inside out.

I stepped out of my black SUV, my combat boots sinking slightly into the mud. I adjusted the collar of my trench coat, ensuring the heavy silver chain around my neck was hidden.

*It wasn't just jewelry. It was a cloak, forged by the Alpha King's own alchemist.*

As long as I wore it, I was a ghost. No scent. No aura. To the noses of the wolves guarding these borders, I was nothing more than a passing shadow.

I walked up the hill toward the family cemetery. The iron gates groaned as I pushed them open, a sound that grated against my heightened hearing.

There it was.

A slab of gray marble, cold and unfeeling, just like the people who put it there.

*Ivy Dillard. Beloved Daughter. Tragic Victim.*

I let out a dry, humorless laugh. The sound was swallowed by the wind.

"Beloved," I whispered, tracing the letters with a gloved finger. "That's rich."

At the base of the headstone lay a bouquet of plastic lilies, their colors faded by the sun, and a silver necklace.

I stared at the silver chain.

*Silver burns us. It sears the skin and poisons the blood. Placing it on a wolf's grave isn't an offering; it's a curse. A guarantee the spirit never finds the Clearing.*

"Still trying to hurt me, even when you think I'm dead," I muttered.

My inner wolf stirred. She was not the weak, dormant creature she had been five years ago. She was large, ancient, and currently very angry.

*Calm down,* I told her silently. *Not yet.*

An old man shuffled past the perimeter fence. He was the gravekeeper, an Omega who had been old even when I was a child. He looked right at me, his nose twitching, but his eyes glazed over.

He couldn't smell me. To a wolf, if you have no scent, you don't exist. He likely thought I was a human tourist or a hallucination.

I checked my watch. The timing had to be perfect.

*Intel confirmed the Greene Pack heir visited this spot annually. Not out of grief, but guilt. Or maybe just to make sure the dirt was still packed down tight.*

A low rumble of an engine cut through the sound of the rain.

A sleek sports car pulled up to the curb. The door opened, and a tall figure stepped out.

Clayton Greene.

My breath hitched, not out of affection, but out of the sheer force of memory.

He looked older. His jaw was sharper, his shoulders broader. He carried the air of an Alpha-in-training, but there was a slump to his posture that spoke of a heavy burden.

He held a bouquet of fresh white roses.

He walked toward the grave, his eyes fixed on the stone. He didn't see me standing in the shadow of a large oak tree right away.

He knelt, placing the roses next to the toxic silver chain.

"Five years, Ivy," he murmured. His voice was rough, like gravel grinding together. "Ainsley is... difficult. The pack is struggling. I should have known better."

I stepped out from the shadows. A twig snapped under my boot.

Clayton froze.

Wolves have reflexes faster than humans. He spun around, a low growl vibrating in his chest before he even registered what he was looking at.

His eyes locked onto mine.

The roses fell from his hand.

"Who are you?" he demanded, his voice laced with the command of an Alpha heir.

*It washed over me like a gentle breeze against a fortress wall. I wasn't a weak Omega anymore. I was a Royal Luna.*

He squinted, confused. He was inhaling deeply, trying to catch my scent to identify my rank and pack.

But he found nothing. Just the smell of rain.

"You look like you've seen a ghost, Clayton," I said, my voice cool and steady.

His face went pale. He took a staggering step back, his hand clutching his chest.

I knew what was happening. His inner wolf was waking up. It was recognizing the mate bond he had tried to sever five years ago.

But because of my amulet, he couldn't be sure. He was fighting his own instincts.

"Ivy?" he choked out, the name sounding foreign on his tongue. "No. You're dead. I saw the car... the blood..."

"You saw what you wanted to see," I replied.

I didn't step closer. I didn't need to. I just stood there, letting the rain wash over me, watching the man who had destroyed me crumble at the sight of my resurrection.

"Why can't I smell you?" he whispered, panic rising in his eyes. "Are you... are you a demon?"

I smiled, and it wasn't a nice smile.

"To you? I might be."

I turned on my heel, my trench coat flaring behind me.

"Wait!" he shouted.

I didn't stop. The game had just begun.

*