My Alpha Chose Her Over Me

The servants' entrance was unlocked, as always.

I slipped through the narrow door at the back of the Pack House, my wet shoes silent on the stone floor. The hallway smelled like pine cleaner and something cooking in the kitchens—roasted meat, probably for tonight's pack dinner. My stomach twisted with hunger, but I pushed past it. I'd eaten yesterday. That was enough.

Dariel's office was on the second floor, down the corridor reserved for ranked wolves. I'd only been inside once, months ago, when he'd first brought me here and told me the cabin would be "temporary." That had been six months ago.

I climbed the back stairs, my hand trailing along the polished banister. Everything here was solid, expensive, permanent. Not like my cabin with its leaking roof and rotting floorboards. This was what a Luna deserved. What our pup deserved.

Voices drifted from behind the heavy oak door of Dariel's office. I recognized his laugh immediately—deep and genuine in a way it never was with me. My hand lifted to knock, then froze as I heard Marcus speak.

"So what's the deal with the Adams girl?" The Beta's voice was casual, curious. "She's been here six months. You planning to make it official?"

Silence. Then Dariel laughed again, but this time it was different. Dismissive. Cold.

"Nora?" He said my name like it was a joke. "She's just a convenient placeholder to warm my bed until I get over Jessica. I feel no bond with that weak little girl."

The world tilted.

I pressed my palm flat against the door to steady myself, my other hand instinctively covering my stomach. Protecting. Hiding.

"Harsh, man," Marcus said, but he was laughing too. "She gave up everything for you. Her pack, her family—"

"She made her choice." Dariel's voice was flat, bored. "I never promised her anything. If she wants to play house in that cabin and pretend we're something we're not, that's her problem."

"What if she's your fated mate, though? What if your wolf just hasn't—"

"My wolf knows what it wants, and it's not her." The certainty in his voice was a knife between my ribs. "Jessica is coming back next week. I can feel it. And when she does, the Adams girl can go crawl back to daddy."

I didn't remember backing away from the door. Didn't remember stumbling down the hallway or taking the stairs too fast, my shoes slipping on the polished wood. I just remember the cold air hitting my face as I burst through the servants' entrance, gasping like I'd been drowning.

Placeholder.

Convenient.

Weak little girl.

My hands shook as I pressed them against my stomach, feeling nothing but the flat plane of my belly and the dress clinging wet and cold to my skin. Inside me, a tiny life was growing. Dariel's heir. The future of his pack.

And he thought I was nothing.

The walk back to the cabin passed in a blur of rain and tears I couldn't stop. My mother's dress was ruined now, caked with mud and torn at the hem where I'd tripped over a root. I didn't care. Nothing mattered except the horrible truth echoing in my head.

He never wanted me. He never felt the bond. I was just something warm and available while he pined for someone else.

Inside the cabin, I collapsed onto the bed, my whole body shaking. Not from cold this time. From something deeper, something that felt like it was tearing me apart from the inside.

What would he do if he knew about the pup? Would he take it from me? Raise it with Jessica when she came back? Cast me out and keep his heir, leaving me with nothing?

I couldn't tell him. I couldn't risk it.

My hand pressed harder against my stomach, protective and desperate.

"I won't let him take you," I whispered into the empty cabin. "I won't let him throw you away like he's throwing me away."

The rain drummed against the roof, finding new leaks, new ways to invade my pathetic shelter. I pulled the ruined blanket over myself and curled around the secret growing inside me.

Two days later, I was gathering firewood near the tree line when I heard it—the low purr of an expensive engine.

A black limousine rolled up the Pack House drive, sleek and out of place among the pickup trucks and SUVs. I froze, my arms full of damp branches, watching as the driver opened the back door.

She stepped out like something from a magazine. Tall, blonde, perfect. Her scent hit me even from this distance—flowers, overwhelming and sweet, making my wolf whimper and retreat.

Jessica.

The Pack House doors burst open and Dariel ran out, actually ran, like a man who'd been holding his breath for months and could finally breathe again. He reached her in seconds, pulling her into his arms, his face buried in her hair.

I watched him inhale her scent. Watched his whole body relax, like he'd finally come home.

He'd never looked at me like that. Not once.

My fingers dug into the rough bark of the firewood, splinters biting into my palms. Inside me, the pup—our pup—grew in the darkness, unwanted and unknown.

And I understood, finally, what it meant to be truly alone.