Rejected by My Fated Mate

The transfer order in my clutch felt heavier than a loaded gun. I had changed into a deep emerald gown, the silk cool against my skin, but my blood was boiling. I stood on the edge of the Alpha’s Winter Ball, watching the Empire Moon Pack celebrate. They danced and laughed, oblivious to the rot at the center of their leadership.

I wasn't here to dance. I was here to say goodbye, though they didn't know it yet. I scanned the room for Graham, my eyes landing instead on a flash of gold sequins moving toward me with predatory purpose.

Adelina.

She moved with a practiced grace, holding a glass of red wine like a prop. I stiffened, my wolf pacing anxiously in the back of my mind. As she passed, she feigned a stumble. It was pathetic, really. A theatrical trip over nothing.

"Oh!" she gasped.

The wine splashed across my chest, soaking into the emerald silk like a fresh wound. The cold liquid seeped through to my skin, but I didn't flinch. I just stared at her.

"I am so clumsy," Adelina said, her voice dripping with fake sweetness as she leaned in to dab at the stain with a cocktail napkin. "I'm so sorry, Gamma Rory."

She was too close. The cloud of her expensive floral perfume assaulted my nose, designed to dazzle and confuse. But I was the Iron Wolf. My senses were honed on the border, trained to sniff out threats miles away. I inhaled sharply, cutting through the layers of vanilla and rose.

Underneath the perfume, she smelled like dirt. Like stale sweat, old fear, and something else—the distinct, musky stench of a rogue male. Not just any rogue, but one who hadn't washed in weeks. Why would the Beta's precious returning love smell like the criminal underground?

Adelina saw the realization flicker in my eyes. She leaned closer, her lips brushing my ear so only I could hear.

"Don't worry about the dress," she whispered, her tone dropping the innocent act. "It's not like you have a mate to impress. Your neck is so... bare. It must be cold without a mark."

She pulled back, smirking, waiting for me to snap. She wanted the Iron Wolf to bare her teeth. She wanted a scene.

I opened my mouth to call her out, to ask whose bed she had really been in, but the music suddenly cut out. The Alpha King was preparing for the toasts. Graham appeared at the top of the grand staircase, looking regal in his tuxedo, scanning the crowd for her. Always her.

Adelina’s eyes darted to Graham, then back to me. A wicked idea sparked in her gaze. We were standing near the base of the stairs. She took a step up, then suddenly shrieked.

"No! Rory, please!"

Before I could even blink, she hurled herself backward.

It was a calculated fall. She caught the banister to slow her momentum before tumbling down the last three steps, landing in a heap of gold sequins at the bottom. The ballroom went silent. Every eye turned to me. My hand was still half-raised from where I had almost pushed her napkin away.

"She pushed me!" Adelina sobbed, clutching her ankle. "I just wanted to apologize for the wine!"

A low growl rumbled from the top of the stairs. Graham descended, his eyes flashing with a fury I had never seen directed at an enemy, let alone me.

"I didn't touch her," I said, my voice calm, though my heart hammered against my ribs. "Graham, use your nose. She threw herself—"

"**SILENCE!**"

The command hit me like a physical blow to the solar plexus. It wasn't just a shout; it was the Beta Command, amplified by the Alpha Tone he had practiced for years. Because I was lower in rank, and because our bond was uncompleted, my wolf had no choice. She whimpered and forced my head down, my chin locking against my chest against my will.

My knees buckled. I fought it, straining every muscle in my neck to look up, to speak, to defend myself. But the pressure was immense, a crushing weight that sealed my vocal cords.

Graham didn't even look at me. He scooped Adelina up into his arms, cradling her as if she were made of glass.

"You let your jealousy rot your mind, Rory," Graham spat, his voice echoing in the silent hall. "Attacking a guest? A defenseless female? You are a disgrace to your rank."

I tried to speak. *I am your mate,* I wanted to scream. *She smells like a rogue!* But the command held me in a chokehold.

Graham turned to the crowd, addressing the pack while I stood frozen, dripping with wine and humiliation.

"Adelina is no longer safe in the guest wing," he announced, his voice booming with authority. "Effective immediately, she will be moving into the Beta Suite for her protection."

A ripple of shock went through the crowd. The Beta Suite. That was the home reserved for the Beta couple. It was supposed to be my home.

Graham finally looked down at me, his expression cold and detached, as if I were a stranger he had just fired.

"Gamma Marshall," he said, using my title like an insult. "Since you clearly cannot control yourself around her, you are evicted from the adjacent Gamma quarters. Have your belongings cleared out by morning. We need the space for guests who actually know how to behave."

He turned his back on me and carried her up the stairs. Over his shoulder, I saw Adelina bury her face in his neck. But just before they disappeared, she peeked out. She looked at me, and she didn't look in pain.

She winked.

The command faded as he walked away, leaving me gasping for air in the center of the ballroom. I didn't look at the whispering crowd. I didn't look at my uncle, who was standing frozen in shock on the dais. I just reached into my purse and gripped the transfer papers until the edges cut into my palm.

He wanted my room? He could have it. He could have all of it.