Rejected By The Alpha, Claimed By The Lycan

Elyse POV

The Alpha's Formal Dining Hall was designed to intimidate. Heavy pewter cutlery rested on a deep crimson tablecloth, and the stern portraits of past Alphas glared down from the mahogany-paneled walls. It was a place of absolute order and Pack tradition.

Or, it used to be.

*Clink. Clink. Clink.*

Leo sat two seats away from Jace, repeatedly striking his silver fork against a crystal goblet. The sharp, grating noise echoed through the suffocating silence of the room.

I looked at Jace at the head of the table. His jaw was tight, his Inner Wolf, *Titan*, clearly agitated by the noise, yet he did nothing.

"Jace, please ask him to stop," I said, keeping my voice perfectly level.

Jace waved a hand dismissively, not even looking up from his plate. "Leave it, Elyse. He's just a kid."

"He's just showing his vitality," Ciera chimed in, placing a manicured hand over Jace's arm. She offered me a condescending smile. "It takes a lot of energy to grow. I think it shows true Alpha potential."

I set my fork down. "It is not vitality, Alpha Jace. It is blatant disrespect to this bloodline and to your seat."

The temperature in the room plummeted. Jace’s head snapped up, his eyes flashing with a dangerous, golden warning. But before he could unleash his temper on me, Leo, emboldened by his mother's defense and the Alpha's silence, dropped the fork. With a bratty smirk, he slid off his chair and bolted toward the adjoining Hearth Room.

A cold knot tightened in my stomach. I stood up and followed him.

The Hearth Room was bathed in the warm glow of a roaring fire, but my blood ran ice-cold the second I stepped inside. Leo was standing on his tiptoes, reaching for the mantel. His small hands closed around a small, carved wooden frame.

It was the only surviving photograph of my parents. The only piece of my soul that hadn't been tainted by the horrors of the Blackwood Pack.

"Put it down, Leo," I commanded, a sharp, Alpha-Luna edge bleeding into my tone that I rarely used.

Leo flinched, but then his face twisted into a defiant sneer. "It's old and ugly! Uncle Jace is the Alpha! This is his home, which means it's mine!"

"Leo, no!" I lunged forward.

He raised the frame high above his head and hurled it down with all his might.

The glass shattered against the white marble hearth with a sickening crash. The black-and-white photo of my parents fluttered down, landing amidst the jagged, glittering shards.

Dead silence swallowed the room.

Then, right on cue, Leo burst into theatrical, wailing sobs.

"Leo!" Ciera shrieked, rushing into the room and pulling the boy into her chest. She glared at me with venomous triumph. "You terrified my baby! What is wrong with you?"

Jace stormed in a second later. The scent of his cedar aura spiked with aggressive, suffocating protectiveness—but none of it was for me. He rushed to Ciera and Leo, his hands hovering over them as if checking for injuries.

I dropped to my knees on the hard marble. My hands shook violently as I reached into the broken glass, desperately trying to salvage the torn photograph. A sharp shard sliced deep into my index finger, but I didn't care. Drops of my blood stained the white stone.

"Why would you lunge at a child like that?" Jace's voice cracked like a whip above me.

I looked up, clutching the ruined photo to my chest. "It was my parents, Jace."

He looked at the blood dripping from my hand, and his eyes remained entirely devoid of empathy. "Stop overreacting, Elyse. It's just a picture. I can buy you ten new ones tomorrow."

The words hit me harder than a physical blow. He didn't just dismiss my pain; he desecrated my lineage.

"He was scared to death," Jace continued, his tone hardening into an Alpha's command. "Apologize to him. Now."

He wanted the Luna of the Silvermoon Pack to kneel and apologize to his mistress's brat for trying to protect her own heritage.

I stared at the man I had been bound to for three years. The last, pathetic thread of my hope snapped, leaving behind a void so cold it burned.

"No." The word slipped from my lips, hollow and absolute.

I didn't wait for his furious roar. I stood up, turning my back on the three of them, and walked out of the room. I climbed the stairs to my suite in the West Wing, the silence of the hallway ringing in my ears.

Once inside, I locked the heavy oak door. I walked into the en-suite bathroom, turned on the faucet, and thrust my bleeding hand under the freezing water. The physical sting grounded me.

With my dry hand, I picked up my encrypted phone and dialed.

"Talia," I said the moment she answered, my voice devoid of any emotion. "Do it. Tomorrow. I don't care how we do it. I want his signature on that document."