My Rejected Mate Begged Me to Rule Beside Him

I should have taken the main entrance.

The thought hit me the second I turned the corner into the narrow service corridor, my heels clicking against marble that had seen better days. This hallway was supposed to be empty—a shortcut the hotel staff used, one that would let me slip into the ballroom without causing a stir before my father's signal.

Instead, I walked straight into my past.

Ace stood there, Saylor draped on his arm like an expensive accessory. They were laughing about something, his head tilted toward hers in that intimate way that used to make my chest ache. Now it just made my wolf bare her teeth.

I froze. They looked up.

For a heartbeat, nobody moved. I watched recognition flicker across their faces—confusion first, then shock, then something uglier.

"Aurora?" Saylor's voice pitched high with disbelief. She straightened, her grip on Ace's arm tightening. "What are you doing here?"

I kept my face blank, my aura locked down tight. My father had taught me that—how to shield my presence, make myself seem like nothing more than a regular wolf. It was harder than it looked, like trying to hold your breath underwater.

"Excuse me," I said quietly, moving to step around them.

Ace shifted, blocking my path. His eyes raked over me—over my midnight blue gown, my carefully styled hair, the way I held myself now. Nothing like the broken omega who'd fled his pack a year ago.

He laughed. Actually laughed.

"Did you sneak in?" He leaned closer, and I caught his scent. Cedar and rain. My wolf snarled, but I held her back. "What are you, a servant? Or did you come back hoping to spread your legs for a real Alpha this time?"

The words hit like a slap. Saylor giggled, the sound grating against my nerves.

"I need to pass," I said, my voice steady despite the fury building in my chest.

"Oh, I don't think so." Saylor released Ace's arm and stepped toward me, her eyes glittering with malice. She snatched a glass of red wine from a passing waiter's tray—he squeaked in protest but scurried away when Ace shot him a look.

I knew what was coming. I could have moved. Should have moved.

But I stood my ground.

Saylor's smile turned vicious. "Oops."

She tipped the glass, and red wine cascaded down the front of my dress. The liquid was cold, soaking through the delicate fabric instantly. It spread like blood across the midnight blue, ruining hours of careful preparation.

"Saylor!" I gasped, stumbling back.

"Oh no," she cooed, her voice dripping false concern. "I'm so clumsy. But then again, trash like you shouldn't be wearing white to a formal event anyway. Were you trying to look like a bride? How pathetic."

I tried to step around her, my hands shaking as I assessed the damage. The dress was ruined. Completely ruined.

Saylor moved with me, her heel coming down hard on the hem of my gown.

The fabric ripped with a sound like tearing paper. The delicate beadwork scattered across the floor, tiny stars dying on cold marble.

"Look at that," Saylor said, examining her nails. "Cheap material. Just like the girl wearing it."

My wolf was screaming now, demanding I shift, demanding I show them what I really was. But not yet. Not yet.

Ace stepped forward, and for one stupid second, I thought he might actually stop this. Might show a shred of the man I'd once thought I loved.

Instead, his eyes locked on my throat.

On my mother's pendant.

The crack in the silver seemed to catch the light, a thin line of weakness in something that should have been whole.

"Is that—" His hand shot out, fingers closing around the chain. "You stole from the pack treasury?"

"What? No, I—"

"This belongs to Silvermoon." He yanked, hard.

The chain snapped. I felt it break, felt the weight of my mother's memory torn from my throat.

"Ace, don't—"

He held the pendant up, examining it with mock curiosity. Then his eyes met mine, cold and cruel.

"Thieves don't deserve treasures," he said.

He dropped it.

The pendant hit the marble with a delicate clink. And then his boot came down, grinding the silver filigree into the stone. I heard it crunch, watched the delicate metalwork crumple and break.

Something inside me cracked too.

My phone buzzed in my clutch. My father's signal.

I looked up at Ace, at Saylor, at the ruins of my dress and my mother's pendant scattered at their feet.

"You're right," I said softly. "Thieves don't deserve treasures."

I stepped past them, my ruined dress trailing wine and torn fabric.

"But Alphas do."

I pushed open the ballroom doors, my father's presence washing over me like a tidal wave. Every head in the room turned.

It was time.