Rejected by the Alpha on Midwinter Night

I had never been on the receiving end of such tender, meticulous care.

Yet here it was, lavished on another Omega without restraint.

I watched for a moment, then asked casually, as if making small talk, "When did this start?"

Ronan shot me a glance, irritation flickering across his face. "Just say what you mean."

"Fine. When did the two of you start?"

My soul was tearing itself apart, and my voice rose sharply before I could stop it.

Raven's hand jerked. Scalding herbal brew sloshed over the rim.

The liquid splashed across her fingers. She let out a pitiful yelp, and the cup slipped, shattering against the stone floor of the great hall.

Ronan's gaze cut toward me like a blade.

"Lyra, it's Midwinter Turning Night. What the hell are you trying to do?"

I spread my hands, my expression saying it all—I didn't do anything.

Why was I the one being blamed?

But in their eyes, I was already the villain.

Raven cowered behind Ronan, trembling as she stared at me. Her scent turned sharp with fear, designed to pull at any Alpha's protective instincts.

He shielded her with his body, his dominant aura flaring, and said to me, "Go back to your quarters. Leave the main den. Now."

Outside, the sky hung low and heavy. Snow fell in thick, relentless sheets across the territory. The brutal cold had already caused disasters throughout the surrounding packs—wolves caught in the open, supply routes frozen shut.

I pulled up the weather readings from the den's communication crystals. "It's deadly cold out there. The kind that kills even shifted wolves. You want me to leave the central den?"

"Tomorrow marks the new cycle. I've spent every Turning Night here for years, as your bonded mate. You're really casting me out now?"

Raven's face went pale. She let out a soft whimper, clutching her stomach where she claimed to carry a pup.

"I don't feel well," she murmured, her voice thin and pitiful. "Something's wrong with the pup."

My in-laws rushed to her side, faces creased with worry. Rowena's hand went to Raven's back, steadying her.

"What's wrong? Where does it hurt?"

"My stomach... I feel awful. I'm scared for the pup."

As she spoke, her frightened gaze fixed on me, her voice quivering. The performance was flawless.

My mother-in-law abandoned all pretense. She turned and murmured something to Ronan, her words too low for even my sharp hearing.

He strode toward me, hostility radiating off him in waves. His Alpha dominance pressed against me, trying to force submission.

"Leave. There's nothing for you here. You're just making everyone miserable. Your presence is stressing the pup-bearer."

I froze. He was actually throwing me out of the pack den.

My throat burned. I tilted my head back and laughed, refusing to bare my neck. "And if I don't?"

"This is my den too. Your parents are my pack elders too. You're my bonded mate. What gives you the right to cast me out?"

Ronan's jaw tightened. He raked a hand through his dark hair, as if steeling himself for what came next.

"Everything you said is true. But you make people uncomfortable. Your scent upsets Ruth. So you have to go."

His tone was iron. Absolute. No room for argument. The voice of an Alpha giving a command.

It felt like a nightmare—but the ache in my chest told me it was all too real. The mate-bond between us twisted painfully, even as he rejected me.

I couldn't stop my voice from shaking. "You mean it?"

I rose to my feet, my eyes locked on his. I refused to submit, refused to look away first.

Ronan hesitated for three seconds. Then his resolve hardened, and I watched something in his golden eyes go cold. "I mean it. Every word."

A tear slipped down my cheek before I could stop it. I swiped it away with the back of my hand.

My hands clenched into fists at my sides. I gave myself a moment to breathe, to steady the trembling in my limbs.

Then I spoke, my voice steady despite everything. "Fine. If you've already chosen another to claim, I won't stay where I'm not wanted."

"But we're settling this tonight. A Bond Dissolution Oath, witnessed and recorded. Territory rights and resource caches split equally between us."

"Ronan, you agree to that, and I'll walk out through those den doors into the storm."

Love couldn't be held onto by force. But our shared territory? The resources we'd built together? That I would fight for.

We'd built those hunting grounds from nothing. I wasn't walking away empty-handed.

I could fall apart later—when no one was watching. When I was alone in the cold.

Ronan said nothing, his expression unreadable.

Rowena cut in, her voice sharp with authority. "Let's not talk about territory division. After all, our son built this pack's wealth himself."

Something short-circuited in my brain.

"Excuse me?" My voice climbed before I could rein it in.

What a joke. Since when had Ronan built anything on his own?

I pulled out the old pack records I'd kept, scrolling back through five cycles of seasons.

"Five years ago, when we started expanding our territory—the first resources came from me. Fifty thousand in trade goods and hunting rights. I borrowed them from my birth pack, putting my own family in debt."