Rejected by Alpha, Reborn in Craft

The world swam in and out of focus as I drifted in and out of consciousness. My body felt like it was burning from the inside out, the wolfsbane's poison spreading through my veins like liquid fire. I could hear voices around me, urgent and worried, but they seemed to come from very far away.

"She's been poisoned!" Someone's hands were on me, gentle but firm. "Wolfsbane extract... she must have ingested at least an ounce."

I forced my eyes open to see Healer Sage Rivers leaning over me, her usually calm face twisted with concern. We were in the small healing room behind the tavern, the scent of medicinal herbs heavy in the air.

"Why?" Sage whispered, her eyes meeting mine. "Why would you do this to yourself, Lila?"

I couldn't answer. Every breath felt like inhaling shards of glass, and the hollow ache in my chest where Luna—my wolf spirit—should be felt emptier than ever.

Sage worked quickly, her hands moving with practiced precision as she mixed a counteragent. "This will help neutralize the poison," she explained, "but you need to stay still."

As she worked, her expression changed. Her hands paused over my chest, her eyes widening. "Lila... your wolf spirit..."

"Don't," I whispered, reaching for her hand. "Please."

She understood immediately. Healer-patient confidentiality was sacred among werewolves. If I didn't give permission, she couldn't tell anyone about my condition.

"This isn't just wolfsbane," Sage said softly, her voice breaking. "You're suffering from wolf sickness. Your connection to Luna is... fading."

I nodded slightly, tears welling in my eyes.

"How long?" Sage asked.

"Three years," I admitted. "Since I met Duke."

Sage's face crumpled with horror. "Three years? And you've been working yourself to exhaustion for him? Do you know what this means? The sickness is terminal, Lila. Without your wolf, you'll..."

She couldn't finish the sentence. We both knew what happened when a werewolf lost their inner wolf.

"I can't tell anyone," Sage whispered, her frustration evident. "Not without your permission. But Duke should know—he's your mate."

"He's not," I said, the words like acid on my tongue. "Not anymore."

---

The next day, I was barely recovered when the door to my modest den burst open without warning. Dallas strode in like she owned the place, followed by three other she-wolves from the Goldcrest Pack.

"Oh my," Dallas said, her voice dripping with false sweetness as she surveyed my small living space. "How quaint."

I rose from my bed, still weak from the wolfsbane poisoning. "What are you doing here?"

"Just being neighborly," Dallas replied, running her manicured fingers over the simple furniture I'd built myself. "After all, we're practically family now."

Her friends snickered as they spread out through my den, picking up and examining my belongings.

"These little trinkets," one of them said, holding up a small moonweaving charm I'd made. "How... primitive."

Dallas moved to my crafting table where Elena's silver needles gleamed in the afternoon light. "And these are your... what did Duke call them? 'Useless hobbies'?"

My heart clenched as she picked up one of Elena's sacred needles, the one my mentor had used for nearly eighty years.

"That's very old," I said quietly. "Please be careful."

"Oh?" Dallas examined it with exaggerated interest before letting it slip from her fingers. It clattered to the floor, the delicate silver bending at an odd angle.

I dropped to my knees, carefully picking it up. "It's bent," I whispered, my voice catching as I tried to straighten it.

"Oops," Dallas said with a laugh. "Guess the old ways aren't as strong as they used to be."

---

The door opened again, and Duke strode in, his expression darkening when he saw Dallas and her friends.

"What's going on here?" he demanded.

Dallas immediately went to him, wrapping herself around his arm. "Just getting acquainted with our little Omega," she purred. "Isn't that right, girls?"

Duke's gaze swept over my bent form as I struggled with the damaged needle. "Lila, what are you doing?"

Before I could answer, Dallas interrupted. "Duke, darling, we need to talk about your... past obligations."

She gestured to the closet where I kept the ceremonial clothes I'd spent months crafting for Duke—traditional moonweaving pieces made with love and hope.

"What about them?" Duke asked, his tone wary.

"Are you still planning to wear them?" Dallas asked, her voice hardening. "An Alpha can't be associated with... this." She waved dismissively at my work.

Duke hesitated for only a moment before marching to the closet. He pulled out the carefully folded garments—the ceremonial jacket embroidered with silver thread, the pants reinforced with moon-blessed leather.

"These are inappropriate for an Alpha," he declared, and before I could stop him, he threw them into the fireplace.

The flames leapt up, consuming months of my work in seconds.

"No!" I cried, lunging forward too late.

Dallas smiled triumphantly as she reached for Elena's remaining tools. "These will make excellent compensation," she said, tucking them into her bag. "For all the time Duke wasted on you."

I watched helplessly as she stole the last physical connection I had to my mentor, to my craft, to the life I'd built before everything fell apart.