My Cruel Alpha's Rejected Mate

Alvera POV

The morning light filtering through the infirmary blinds was gray and unforgiving, much like the future stretching out before me. It had been three days since Kassie Warren returned, and the silence from the Alpha's office was deafening.

"Alvera," Mom whispered, her grip on my hand weak but insistent. "You can't keep doing this. Waiting for a ghost."

I stiffened. I knew where this was going.

"It's been six years since the rejection, baby," she continued, her voice trembling with a mother's desperate love. "He made his choice. You need to find someone else. Even a Beta... or a kind human. Just someone to protect you when I'm gone."

My chest tightened. The memory of that night—the rain, the agony of the bond snapping before it could fully form—threatened to surface. "Mom, please—"

"Morning, sunshine! And morning to the best patient in the ward!"

The door swung open, and Dulce breezed in, balancing a tray of oatmeal and fruit. My stepsister was a burst of chaotic energy in the sterile room, her brown hair tied back in a messy bun that smelled of yeast and vanilla from the Pack kitchens. Unlike me, she had a wolf, though a dormant one, which kept her blissfully ignorant of the crushing weight of Pack politics.

"Dulce," I exhaled, relief washing over me.

"Don't look at me like that, Vera. The Head Cook almost took my hand off for snagging extra berries," she winked, setting the tray down and effectively cutting off Mom's lecture. "Eat up, Ruby. I need you strong enough to critique my soufflé later."

Mom smiled, the tension breaking. I squeezed Dulce's shoulder in silent gratitude, grabbed a piece of toast, and fled before the conversation could circle back to my nonexistent love life.

*

The elevator ride to the penthouse was usually my time to armor myself. Today, it felt like a cage.

Dulce had insisted on walking me to the lobby. As the doors slid open, she grabbed my arm, her playful demeanor vanishing.

"Vera," she said, her voice dropping to a hush. "You need to know. The kitchen staff... they're talking."

"They're always talking, Dulce."

"Not like this." She bit her lip, her eyes wide with pity. "They say Brennan and Kassie had dinner at The Obsidian last night, and then... they came back here. Together. To his private quarters. She didn't leave until an hour ago."

The toast in my stomach turned to lead. It was one thing to suspect it; it was another to have it broadcasted to the entire Pack. My sacrifice—warming his bed in secret, enduring his coldness to pay for Mom's treatment—suddenly felt cheap. Dirty.

"I have to go to work," I said, my voice brittle.

"Vera..."

"I'm fine."

I wasn't.

I stepped out onto the top floor and keyed the code into the Alpha's private residence. The heavy door clicked open, and immediately, I was assaulted.

*Sakura.*

The air was thick with it—synthetic, cloying cherry blossoms. It was Kassie's scent, and it was everywhere, choking out the crisp, winter scent of Cedar and Blizzard that usually defined Brennan's space.

I walked into the living area, my eyes stinging. And there they were. A pair of delicate, red-soled stilettos kicked haphazardly next to Brennan's heavy combat boots by the door.

A visual confirmation of my replacement.

Brennan was in the kitchen, drinking black coffee. He was shirtless, his low-slung sweatpants clinging to his hips. The sight of his scarred, muscular back usually made my mouth go dry. Today, it just made me want to vomit.

He turned as I entered, his golden eyes narrowing.

"Alpha," I said, my voice devoid of emotion. "The Pack is buzzing. Do you need me to arrange a security detail to escort Miss Warren out unnoticed?"

Brennan set his mug down with a sharp *clack*. He stalked toward me, his massive frame blocking out the light. He stopped inches from me, inhaling deeply, his nose flaring.

"She's not here," he growled.

I blinked, glancing at the shoes by the door. "Her shoes are—"

"I said," his voice dropped an octave, vibrating in my chest, "she is not here."

He offered no explanation. No denial of the night before, just a flat refusal of her current presence. The gaslighting made my head spin.

"Fine," I whispered. "I'll prepare the meeting briefs."

I turned to leave, but he caught my arm. His grip was hot, searing through my blouse. He pulled me closer, burying his face in the crook of my neck. I froze, my heart hammering a traitorous rhythm against my ribs.

Then, he pulled back, his face twisted in a snarl.

"You stink," he spat.

I recoiled as if slapped. "Excuse me?"

"The Infirmary. Antiseptic and sickness. It's disgusting," he said, his upper lip curling. "It's all over you. It's making my wolf pace."

"I was visiting my dying mother, Brennan," I snapped, the hurt finally bleeding through.

"I don't care," he said, his tone icy and final. He pointed toward his office door. "Go wash. Now. There are spare clothes in the en-suite. Do not come near me smelling like death again."

It wasn't a request. It was a command, bordering on the use of his Alpha voice.

Humiliation burned my cheeks. He had spent the night rolling in Kassie's perfume, yet he couldn't stand the scent of my reality? I marched into his office bathroom, slamming the door with as much force as I dared.

Twenty minutes later, I emerged, scrubbed raw and wearing one of his oversized hoodies that hung to my mid-thigh. I smelled like him now—Cedar and soap.

I hadn't even made it to my desk when the elevator doors dinged.

Kristopher Warren stormed out, his Gamma aura rolling off him in waves of aggressive Fir needle scent. He was a tank of a man, with the same dark hair as his sister but none of the softness. Kassie trailed behind him, looking flustered.

"Where is he?" Kristopher barked, ignoring me completely.

"Kristopher, please, you're overreacting!" Kassie pleaded, grabbing his arm.

"Overreacting? He parades you around The Obsidian, lets the rumors fly that the Warren Pack is in his pocket, and then refuses to formalize the alliance?" Kristopher shook her off. "He's playing politics with your reputation, Kassie."

He slammed his fist against Brennan's office door. "Dawson! Open up!"

The door swung open. Brennan stood there, fully dressed now, radiating lethal calm. "Gamma Warren. If you damage my property, I will bill your Alpha."

"We need to talk," Kristopher snarled, pushing past him into the office.

The door clicked shut, muffling the sudden explosion of shouting.

I sat at my desk, trying to make myself invisible. Kassie stood by the door, wringing her hands. She looked at me, her eyes darting over the oversized hoodie I was wearing. Recognition flickered in her gaze—she knew who that hoodie belonged to.

"You," she said, stepping closer. Her voice was tight. "You're in there with him all day. You manage his life."

"I'm just his assistant, Miss Warren," I said, keeping my eyes on my screen.

"My brother is going to tear him apart if he thinks Brennan is stringing me along," she hissed, leaning over my desk. The smell of Sakura was suffocating again. "Help me. Go in there. Calm them down."

"I am a wolfless Omega, Miss Warren," I said quietly. "I have no place in a room with two dominant males."

Kassie stared at me, her eyes narrowing. She looked at the hoodie again, then at my face, searching for something.

"You've been by his side for three years," she whispered, her voice dropping to a dangerous, conspiratorial level. "You must know everything."

She leaned in closer, her breath fanning across my face.

"Tell me, Alvera. Do you know who his Fated Mate is?"

My heart stopped. The air in the room seemed to vanish, leaving me staring into the eyes of the woman who wanted to take the place that nature had designed for me.