Rejected by My Fated Alpha

Running a fever of 102 degrees, Marcellus Ross, the Alpha of the Silver Moon Pack, insisted I brave the rain to get him some antacids. The storm outside was relentless, but his Alpha tone brooked no argument. So, I went, drenched to the bone, only to find him laughing with his pack members when I returned.

"See, I told you she'd come with just one call," he said, his voice dripping with amusement. "Pay up, everyone—a hundred bucks each."

Octavia Holmes, his Beta and childhood friend, smirked at me, her golden eyes glinting with malice. "Lilia Dean really is like a loyal puppy, isn't she? Why not give us a bark while you're at it?"

The room erupted in laughter, the sound echoing with humiliation. My wolf stirred within me, a low growl of protest, but I silenced her. I couldn’t afford to show weakness in front of them. Unable to bear it, I pushed the door open and left.

"Treat her like this, aren't you afraid she'll get mad and leave you?" someone asked, their voice tinged with mock concern.

"She's nothing but damaged goods," Marcellus replied, his tone cold and dismissive. "Who else would want an Omega like her besides me? Just wait, within minutes, she'll come back apologizing."

But this time, he miscalculated.

I turned and walked away, alone, toward the pack hospital where I had an abortion. This man, I realized, was no longer fit to be the father of my child. My wolf whimpered in the back of my mind, her pain mirroring my own.

Before entering the surgical room, the pack Healer, Naomi, asked if any family had come with me. I thought of Marcellus, of the bond we once shared, and the bitter reality of what it had become.

A sharp pain rippled through my chest as I lowered my eyes and replied, "They're all gone."

Naomi gave me a sympathetic look as I was wheeled into the operating room.

It rained the whole day and night, yet there wasn't a single message on my phone. I took a cab from the hospital back to the pack house, and even the few steps from the street to the door seemed to drain every ounce of strength I had, kept going only by sheer will.

Through the door, I heard laughter—a man's and a woman's.

When I opened the door, the laughter stopped, and both turned to look at me.

Marcellus lounged on the couch, casually caressing Octavia's belly. When he saw me, his face hardened, and he hurled the glass in his hand at me, anger dripping from his words.

"Lilia Dean, you actually came back! It was just a joke between me and Octavia, and you're throwing a fit over something so trivial?"

"I didn't even hold it against you for having a past, and now you're pulling this runaway act?"

Touching my face, cut by the shattered glass, I remained expressionless. Those vulnerabilities I showed him—the very things he used to exploit.

He once held me, shaking, promising with teary eyes, "From now on, I'll protect you."

And yet, here was the man who hurt me most.

Seeing my silence as acquiescence, Marcellus ordered, "Octavia and I haven't eaten. Go make us two plates of ravioli—one without onions." He liked onions, so the one without was for Octavia.

I glanced at Octavia, wrapped in my newly bought towel, barely covering her.

Arrogantly, she latched onto his arm and approached me, condescension in her voice, "Lilia, I've been staying here and don't have clothes to change into, so I'm borrowing your towel. You don't mind, right?"

She was wearing my favorite perfume as well.

I turned to Marcellus and calmly asked, "Aren't you going to explain?"

The coldness on Marcellus's face sharpened. "Enough already! You're sulking over petty issues at the worst time! Octavia hasn't eaten, and you're worrying over trifles?"

Ignoring his mate who had been missing for a day and a night, he was only concerned about the woman in the towel.

Before, his words would have infuriated me. But now, they felt utterly hollow.

I pushed Octavia aside and went straight to my room.

The towel slipped from her, falling to the ground as my fingers snagged it.

Octavia screamed, clutching herself in panic, "Marcellus!"

I ignored it all, not even glancing back as hurried footsteps and angry shouts followed, "Lilia Dean! Have you lost your mind?"

I didn't turn back, nor did I notice the conflict in Marcellus's expression.

With the towel already on the floor, I expected the night to be anything but peaceful.

Yet, surprisingly, after I finished showering, Marcellus brought a band-aid into the room.