Rejected by My Alpha Mate

I tucked the evidence bag under my arm as I made my way to the small general store at the edge of pack territory. The morning sun cast long shadows across the wooden porch, where an elderly Omega was sweeping dust into neat piles.

"Silas," I called out, my voice carrying the authority of Luna despite my exhaustion.

The shopkeeper—not to be confused with the pack healer of the same name—jumped at the sound of his name. He was a thin man with wire-rimmed glasses that kept sliding down his nose.

"L-Luna Celine," he stammered, immediately dropping his broom and bowing his head. "What brings you to my humble shop?"

I stepped inside, noting how the bell above the door jingled with my entrance. The store smelled of dried herbs and cheap perfume—including the particular lavender-musk scent I'd detected on my father's cloak.

"I need information," I said, placing the evidence bag on the counter between us. "About a purchase made recently."

Silas's eyes darted nervously to the bag, then back to my face. "I... I don't understand, Luna."

"This scent," I said, opening the bag slightly and letting him catch a whiff. "Who bought it?"

His face paled. "I-I can't disclose customer information."

I leaned forward, letting my Luna aura flare. The air around us thickened with power, making Silas's breath catch.

"My father sits in silver-lined cells while you protect someone who planted evidence," I said quietly. "Is that how you show loyalty to your pack?"

Silas swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "It was a masked figure," he finally whispered. "But..."

"But?" I prompted.

"But I noticed something," he continued, voice barely audible. "A limp. The customer walked with a distinct limp—dragged their right foot slightly."

My eyes narrowed. "Like Gamma Vance?"

Silas nodded almost imperceptibly. "I didn't want to say anything. He's been... generous with shop protection since becoming Gamma."

---

The dining hall buzzed with activity as I approached Ryland's table. He sat alone, scrolling through his phone while picking at his lunch. Perfect timing—I needed to present my findings before Vance could interfere further.

"Ryland," I said, sliding into the seat across from him. "I have evidence that—"

"Not now, Celine," he cut me off, not even looking up. "I'm reviewing the security reports."

"This will only take a minute," I insisted, placing my folder on the table. "The perfume on my father's cloak was traced to—"

A commotion erupted across the room. Every head turned toward the sound—including Ryland's.

Everly Morgan stumbled through the doorway, clutching her chest. Her face was pale, lips trembling as she took faltering steps into the dining hall.

"Help," she gasped, her voice carrying dramatically through the space. "I can't... breathe..."

Ryland was on his feet instantly, rushing to her side as she collapsed into his arms with perfect timing.

"What's wrong?" he demanded, cradling her against his chest.

"My heart," she whispered, her eyes finding mine across the room. For just a moment, I caught a flash of triumph in them before they rolled back dramatically. "It's racing... I need help..."

Ryland lifted her effortlessly, turning to glare at me as I approached. "We need to get her to the hospital wing."

"Ryland, wait," I said, reaching for my folder. "This evidence—"

"Stop bothering me with trifles while a life is at risk!" he snapped, his Alpha tone vibrating through the air. Several nearby wolves flinched at the force of it.

He strode away, carrying Everly while she nestled her face against his neck. My folder of evidence lay forgotten on the table, pages scattering as other wolves moved around it.

---

I found Silas Gray in the hospital wing's storage room, counting medical supplies. The pack healer jumped when I closed the door behind me.

"Luna Celine," he stammered, nearly dropping his clipboard. "I wasn't expecting you."

"Clearly," I replied, leaning against a shelf of bandages. "I have questions about Everly Morgan's condition."

Silas paled. "I... I'm not at liberty to discuss patients."

"I'm not asking about her health," I said, stepping closer. "I'm asking about her illness."

He blinked nervously. "I don't understand."

"Her 'wolf sickness,'" I clarified. "The condition that requires our Alpha's constant attention. The one that conveniently flares up whenever I need to speak with him."

Silas's eyes darted to the door, then back to me. "Luna, please... I could lose my position."

"Or," I suggested, picking up a bottle of pain medication, "I could audit the medical supply inventory. I've heard there's been some... discrepancy."

His face drained of color. "You wouldn't."

"Try me," I challenged. "Now tell me about Everly's condition."

Silas swallowed hard. "She's healthy," he finally admitted. "Completely healthy."

"But she takes something," I pressed. "Something to make her heart race?"

He nodded reluctantly. "Herbs. Innocent ones separately, but combined they induce temporary irregular heartbeats. She takes them before... before she knows Alpha Ryland will be near."

I closed my eyes, the final piece falling into place. Everly wasn't just manipulating Ryland—she was systematically destroying my position as Luna.

And my mate was letting her do it.