His Defiant Mate: The Alpha King's Obsession

Kenia POV:

The Charity Gala was a display of obscene wealth. Chandeliers dripped with crystals, and the air smelled of champagne and expensive perfume.

I stood in the shadows near the back, wearing a simple black dress that Sarah had found for me. It was the color of mourning.

Holden and Estella were on the stage. Estella wore the red gown I had designed. It was supposed to symbolize passion and vitality. On her, it looked like spilled blood.

"We are so grateful," Estella cooed into the microphone, flashing a dazzling smile. "When I designed the new shelter blueprints, I just knew we had to do more for the pups."

The crowd applauded politely. Flashbulbs popped.

She was taking credit for my work. Again.

"And," Holden added, his arm around her waist, "we are dedicating this night to our beloved Elder Evans, whose vision guided Estella's hand."

A low murmur went through the crowd.

I saw a group of Omega servers in the corner. They were looking at me with sad, sympathetic eyes. They knew who really did the work. But they couldn't speak. Omegas had no voice in the Silver Lake Pack.

Holden stepped down from the stage, dragging Estella with him. They moved through the crowd, accepting congratulations.

Holden spotted me. He steered Estella over, his grip on her possessive.

"You look like a funeral attendant," he hissed in my ear, using his superior hearing so no one else could hear. "Smile, damn it."

"Where is the credit?" I asked, my voice steady. "I drew those plans. I stayed up for three weeks."

"You're an Omega," Holden scoffed. "Nobody cares what you draw. Estella is the future Luna. She needs the image. You exist to support her. That is your purpose."

"My purpose?"

"Yes. To be useful. Don't think just because I slept with you that you're special. You were a convenience."

The words hung in the air between us.

"Holden!" A reporter pushed forward. "A photo with the happy couple!"

Holden beamed, turning his charm on instantly.

I stepped into the frame.

"Get out," Holden gritted through his teeth, still smiling for the camera.

"No," I said loudly.

The music seemed to stop. The nearby guests turned.

"What am I to you, Holden?" I asked, my voice ringing clear in the sudden silence.

Holden's smile twitched. "Kenia, you're drunk. Go to your room."

"I'm not drunk. I'm waking up." I reached into my purse and pulled out the 'Chosen Mate Contract'—the document we had signed three years ago. It wasn't legally binding without a Marking, but it was a promise.

"You promised me a family," I said. "You promised me a future. Instead, you gave me nothing but pain."

Gasps rippled through the room.

"She's hysterical!" Estella shrieked. "Security!"

"I reject this," I said. I ripped the paper in half. Then in quarters. I threw the confetti of our relationship into his face. "I am done being your shadow."

Holden's face turned purple with rage. "You reject nothing! You belong to this Pack! You belong to me!"

He grabbed my wrist. His grip was bruising.

"Take her to the East Wing," Holden barked at his guards. "Lock her in. No food. No water. Until she learns to heel."

Two massive warrior wolves grabbed me. I didn't fight. I let them drag me away, my head held high.

As they hauled me out of the ballroom, I saw Estella smirking.

But I also saw something else. The Omegas. The servers, the cleaners. They weren't looking at the floor anymore. They were looking at me. And in their eyes, there was a spark of anger.

They threw me into a guest room in the East Wing and locked the door.

I went to the window. It was barred.

But they forgot one thing. I had fixed this wing last year. I knew the ventilation shaft behind the heavy wardrobe was loose.

I waited until the moon was high.

My phone buzzed. A message from Sarah.

"Evans... he didn't make it, Kenia. He passed away an hour ago. They're burying him at dawn. Pauper's field. They aren't even giving him an Elder's rite."

That was the final insult.

I pushed the heavy wardrobe aside, my muscles screaming. I unscrewed the vent cover with the nail file from my purse.

I crawled into the dark, dusty tunnel.

I'm coming, Evans, I thought. And then, I'm gone.