Rejected by the Alpha, Claimed by the King

I woke up early on the morning of our seventh mate anniversary, my heart fluttering with anticipation. Seven years since Dylan had claimed me as his true mate, seven years of building our life together as Alpha and Luna of the Silvercrest Pack. Despite the recent strangeness between us, I had hoped today would bring us closer again.

My wolf, Luna, stirred within me. *He'll remember today,* she assured me. *Our day.*

I'd prepared everything—his favorite breakfast, a special gift I'd commissioned from the pack's silversmith, and I'd even arranged for the council meeting to be postponed so we could have time together. The traditional marking ceremony would come tonight, renewing our bond under the full moon.

"Dylan," I called softly, reaching across our bed. "Happy anniversary."

He grunted, barely opening his eyes. "Hmm? What day is it?"

Something cold settled in my stomach. "It's our anniversary," I said, keeping my voice light despite the weight in my chest. "Seven years since you marked me."

"Oh." He sat up, running a hand through his hair. "Right. Seven years."

No excitement. No warmth. Just... acknowledgment.

"I've made breakfast," I said, watching his face carefully. "And I have something for you."

"Carolina, I have that territory dispute meeting with the Northern Pack today." He was already reaching for his phone, his attention elsewhere. "We'll have to celebrate tonight."

"Tonight is the marking ceremony," I reminded him gently. "The full moon—"

"I know what tonight is," he cut me off, his tone sharper than necessary. "I haven't forgotten."

But he had. I could see it in his eyes, the way they darted around the room avoiding mine.

He disappeared into his closet, emerging minutes later in his formal Alpha attire. I followed him to his office, where he sat behind his desk, immediately engrossed in paperwork.

"Your gift," I said, placing the wrapped box on his desk.

He glanced up, distracted. "Thanks." He reached into his desk drawer, pulling out something that glinted in the morning light. "Here's yours."

I unwrapped it slowly. A pen. A cheap plastic pen with the pack logo stamped on it.

"This is...?" My voice caught.

"For all your Luna paperwork." He shrugged, already returning to his documents. "You're always saying you need good pens."

My wolf whimpered inside me. *This isn't right. This isn't our mate.*

I swallowed hard, tucking the pen into my pocket. "Thank you," I managed, though the words tasted bitter.

---

Later that day, I tried to reach him through our mate mind-link. It was something we'd done since the beginning—a sacred connection that allowed us to communicate regardless of distance.

*Dylan?* I projected, focusing on the familiar frequency that had always connected us.

Nothing. Not even an echo.

I tried again, stronger this time. *Dylan, are you there?*

Silence.

My wolf paced anxiously within me. *Something's wrong. The link is closed.*

I made my way to his office, but he wasn't there. Marcus, his Beta, informed me Dylan had gone to inspect the eastern border.

"He didn't mention anything to you?" Marcus asked, his eyes concerned.

"He's changed our mind-link frequency," I said quietly.

Marcus's expression shifted from concern to shock. "Without telling you?"

I nodded, the implications sinking in. Our mind-link was sacred—a connection blessed by the Moon Goddess herself. For Dylan to change it without telling me meant deliberately shutting me out.

"Why would he do that?" Marcus asked.

I had no answer.

---

The rubber ducks were everywhere now.

I found one on Dylan's office dashboard that evening, perched prominently where he couldn't miss it. Another appeared in the communal kitchen the next morning. By the third day, they were scattered around the pack training grounds.

My wolf growled each time we found one. *They're watching us. Marking territory.*

"They're just toys," Nellie said when I showed her the latest one I'd found in the pack library. "Probably the pups playing pranks."

But the pattern was too deliberate. Too specific.

"These aren't random," I insisted, turning the yellow duck over in my hands. "Look at how they're placed—always in Dylan's spaces, always where he'll see them."

Nellie took the duck from me, examining it closely. "You think they mean something to him?"

"I think they mean something to him and her," I said quietly.

That night, I found three more ducks hidden in our bedroom—one under my pillow, one in my cosmetic bag, and one tucked into my favorite book.

My wolf snarled, no longer able to ignore what was happening. *She's claiming our space. Our mate.*

I gathered all the ducks into a box and hid them in my private study. But I couldn't hide from the truth they represented.

As I closed the study door, my phone chimed with a message from an unknown number.

"Missing something, Luna?" the text read, followed by a photo of Dylan asleep in what looked like a hotel room, a single rubber duck placed prominently on the pillow beside him.

My hands trembled as I stared at the screen, the floral scent I'd detected on Dylan weeks ago suddenly flooding my memory.

Giovanna was back. And she wasn't hiding anymore.