Rejected by Alpha, Reborn in Craft

The tavern buzzed with late-night energy, glasses clinking and voices rising as pack members unwound after a long day. I balanced a tray of drinks, my fingers calloused from years of moonweaving and tavern work, moving carefully between tables. The familiar ache in my chest had been growing stronger lately, but I pushed it aside. There was work to be done.

"Another round for table four," Mira called from behind the bar, her eyes sympathetic as they always were when she looked at me. She was the only one who noticed how I sometimes paused mid-step, pressing a hand to my chest as if trying to hold something inside.

"On it," I murmured, forcing a smile.

The private corner booth was occupied tonight—Duke and his friends, their voices carrying just enough for me to catch fragments as I approached with their order.

"—can't believe you've kept her in the dark this long," someone said, laughing.

I froze, the tray trembling slightly in my hands. Duke's voice cut through the noise, clear and cruel in a way I'd never heard before.

"What does it matter? She's nothing but a wolfless burden anyway." His words sliced through me like silver blades. "Three years she's been working here, paying off my debts while I court Dallas. And she never suspected a thing."

The glass in my hand nearly slipped. Wolfless burden. Three years of sacrifice, of missing my Coming of Age ceremony because he couldn't be bothered to attend, of working double shifts to help pay his pack debts—all while he was secretly engaged to Dallas Bennett from the Goldcrest Pack.

"She actually thinks I'm going to mark her someday," Duke continued, his voice dripping with disdain. "As if I'd choose an Omega with no wolf over Dallas. The alliance with Goldcrest will secure my Alpha inheritance."

I must have made some sound, some small gasp that carried over their laughter. Duke's head snapped up, his eyes meeting mine across the tavern. For one heartbeat, something flickered there—not remorse, but annoyance at being overheard.

Then Dallas's hand slid possessively over his arm, her perfectly manicured nails digging into his jacket. "So when do we announce it officially?"

"Soon," Duke promised, his attention already back on her. "Once I figure out how to discard my little Omega without looking like a complete jerk to the pack."

The tray slipped from my fingers, glasses shattering on the floor. The crash echoed through the tavern, drawing all eyes. I dropped to my knees to clean it up, grateful for the mess that hid my trembling hands and the single tear that escaped down my cheek.

"Sorry," I whispered to no one in particular.

---

The tavern finally closed at two in the morning. I stayed behind to clean up, my movements mechanical as I swept glass shards into a dustpan.

The pain hit without warning—a sharp, tearing sensation in my chest that stole my breath. I clutched the edge of the bar, my knuckles white as I fought to stay upright.

"Luna," I gasped internally, reaching for my wolf spirit. "Luna, please..."

But the connection felt thinner than ever, like trying to grasp smoke. My wolf's presence flickered weakly, then faded again.

I collapsed behind the bar, my body curling into itself as the pain radiated outward. Each breath felt like inhaling shards of glass. This episode was worse than any before—the wolf sickness was progressing faster now.

"It's okay," I whispered to myself, though no one was there to hear. "It's okay."

I forced myself up, gripping the counter until my vision cleared. There was still work to finish. The broken glasses needed to be disposed of properly, the floors mopped. Duke would be wondering where I was.

Duke. The name felt like ash in my mouth now.

---

Morning light filtered through the thin curtains of our shared den when I finally returned. I'd managed to hide my condition from everyone, just as I always did. The pain had subsided to a dull ache, but the hollow feeling inside me had nothing to do with my illness.

I stopped short at the entrance. Something was different.

On our small table sat an elaborate bouquet of silver roses—Dallas's favorite. Next to it, a small velvet box and several envelopes addressed in flowing script to "My Dearest Dallas."

My fingers trembled as I picked up one of the letters, unable to stop myself from reading Duke's words to another woman.

"My heart beats only for you," he wrote. "Soon the entire pack will know you as my chosen Luna."

Beneath the letters lay detailed plans for their engagement announcement—date, venue, guest list. And tucked between the pages, a handwritten note that made my blood run cold.

"Lila's devotion has been quite useful," it read in Duke's familiar scrawl. "Three years of free labor while I secured the real prize. No one will question my rise to Alpha with this alliance."

The letters slipped from my numb fingers, scattering across the floor like the broken pieces of my heart. Three years of my life, my dreams, my health—all sacrificed for a man who saw me as nothing more than a convenient tool.

And now, as my wolf spirit faded day by day, I was truly alone.