Rejected by My Fated Alpha

The Luna hosted a pack gathering at the pack mansion.

Each guest was invited to share a piece of their own writing, to be judged by the Luna herself.

But the world has always favored beauty—whether in objects or in people.

My older sister, Ximena, radiant and poised, naturally drew the Luna’s attention.

She sat at the head of the table, her aura commanding the room before landing on me. With a soft, sweet smile, she said,

"My sister, Quincy, may not have the strongest aura, but her heart is kind."

All eyes turned to me.

Some of the pack members stifled laughter behind their hands.

"Look at her," one of the pack members whispered, loud enough for me to hear. "How could she even compare to Ximena? The difference between them is like the moon and dirt."

"I heard Quincy’s been clinging to Raphael, always chatting about pack history and traditions. Disgusting. She should know her place."

"One’s a star, the other’s an Omega. Ximena’s mother is the Luna, while Quincy’s is just a kitchen servant, for Moon Goddess’ sake! Of course she’d try to claw her way up. Like mother, like daughter."

I sat quietly, my face impassive.

Years of ridicule had thickened my skin.

Why should I care what they thought?

I adjusted the hem of my dress, my movements deliberate and calm. Then, by chance, my eyes met Raphael’s.

His Beta discreetly slipped me a folded note. I opened it to find two hastily scrawled words: *Don’t worry.*

I let out a soft, bitter laugh.

Then, without hesitation, I crumpled the note and tore it to pieces.

Raphael, your mate had just humiliated me in front of the entire pack.

You didn’t dare stand up to her, yet you couldn’t let go of whatever this was between us.

What did that make me?

Yes, I was ordinary in appearance, and my rank was lowly.

I’d spent years drowning in self-pity because of it.

But I wasn’t the spineless, groveling creature they painted me to be.

So.

I would no longer love you.

I would no longer spend twenty years caring for you, tending to your broken leg.

I would no longer exhaust myself managing your pack, sacrificing my health for your sake.

And I would no longer cut my wrist to save you when you were on the brink of death.

This time, Quincy Morrison would not waste a single glance on you.