Rejected by the Alpha, Claimed by the King

The dead raven lay sprawled across my pillow like a grotesque offering, its black feathers matted with dried blood. My hands trembled as I picked up the note tucked beneath its broken wing, the paper crisp between my fingers.

"Some creatures don't deserve to fly."

The words were written in elegant script, each letter perfectly formed. My wolf began pacing beneath my skin, a restless energy that had me checking the shadows of my room twice before I could even process what I was seeing. The metallic scent of death clung to everything—my bedsheets, my pillow, the very air I breathed.

Aliana.

I didn't need proof to know she'd done this. The theatrical cruelty, the symbolic message—it reeked of her particular brand of psychological warfare. But knowing and proving were two different things, and I'd learned enough about pack politics to understand the difference mattered.

I wrapped the raven in a towel, careful not to disturb the scene too much, and carried it straight to Demetrius's office. My wolf whined with each step, sensing danger in every shadow. The hallways felt longer than usual, the familiar pack house suddenly foreign and threatening.

Demetrius looked up from his paperwork when I knocked, his expression shifting from mild irritation to concern when he saw what I carried.

"What is that?" he asked, rising from his chair.

I unwrapped the towel, placing the raven and note on his desk. "I found this on my pillow. Along with this." I handed him the note, watching his face carefully as he read.

His jaw tightened, but not in the way I'd expected. Not with the fury of a mate whose beloved had been threatened. Instead, he looked... frustrated. Like I'd brought him an inconvenience rather than evidence of a direct threat.

"Rebecca," he said slowly, setting the note aside. "This could be from anyone. You know how many rogues pass through our territory. It might not even be meant as a threat."

My wolf snarled, and I felt my control slip just slightly. "A dead raven on my pillow with a note about creatures not deserving to fly? How is that not a threat?"

"You've been under a lot of stress lately," Demetrius continued, his voice taking on that patronizing tone I'd begun to hate. "Sometimes when we're anxious, we see threats everywhere. Even where they don't exist."

The dismissal hit me like a physical blow. Three years of supporting him, of standing by his side through every challenge, and this was how he responded when I came to him for protection? When I needed him to be my Alpha, my mate?

"So you think I'm imagining this?" My voice came out steadier than I felt.

"I think you're letting Aliana's return affect you more than it should." He moved around the desk, reaching for my shoulders, but I stepped back. "She's pack, Rebecca. She has every right to be here."

"And I have every right to feel safe in my own bed."

Something flickered in his eyes—guilt, maybe, or recognition of how his words sounded. But it was gone too quickly, replaced by that same careful neutrality he'd worn since Aliana's return.

"I'll have Beta Marcus increase patrols around the pack house," he said finally. "But I won't start a witch hunt based on a dead bird and an anonymous note."

A witch hunt. As if seeking justice for a clear threat was somehow unreasonable. As if my safety was less important than maintaining pack harmony.

I wrapped the raven back up, my movements sharp with suppressed anger. "Fine. But when something else happens—and we both know it will—remember this conversation."

I left his office with the dead raven still in my hands, his dismissal echoing in my ears. The pack house felt different as I walked through it, every shadow a potential hiding place, every corner a possible ambush point. My wolf paced restlessly, sensing the change in our territory's dynamic.

That night, sleep eluded me completely. Every creak of the house, every whisper of wind against the windows, had me sitting up in bed with my heart racing. I'd moved to the guest room down the hall, unable to face my own bed where the raven had been waiting.

But it wasn't just the threat keeping me awake. It was the realization that when I'd needed my mate most, when I'd come to him seeking protection and validation, he'd chosen to doubt me instead. He'd chosen to protect Aliana's reputation over my safety.

And somewhere in the darkness of the pack house, I knew she was planning her next move.