Rejected by the Alpha on Midwinter Night

"I personally borrowed five hundred thousand gold-marks from the neutral territories. I endured over a thousand days and nights of grinding labor, and we finally established our dominion last year."

"After all that suffering together, how dare you claim you built this territory alone?"

The evidence was overwhelming.

I had the blood-sealed debt scrolls from when I'd borrowed the gold-marks.

I had memory-crystals showing us celebrating moon-cycles in that cramped, run-down den during the early days.

Every trace of our struggle to build this pack's holdings from nothing—how could any of it be erased?

Ronan drew a deep breath, his Alpha scent souring with frustration. "I can give you something. But not much. A hundred thousand gold-marks."

A territory worth tens of millions in resources and influence, and he was offering me a hundred thousand.

My vision blurred. Not from tears.

From the aftershock of bonding with a wolf I'd never truly known.

It took me a long moment to steady myself enough to speak normally. "There has to be a reason. Give me a reason for the hundred thousand."

Ronan inhaled and spoke as if stating something perfectly reasonable: "She's carrying a pup. She's bearing my heir during her Heat. And you—you can't produce pups."

That reason nearly knocked me off my feet.

So that was it.

"But being unable to bear pups—is that really a reason?"

"There are so many healer remedies now. Carrying a pup isn't impossible for barren Omegas. So why are you saying I can't?"

I laughed, mocking him.

And as I laughed, it suddenly clicked.

"You never loved me. Raven is the one you've always wanted, isn't she? Once you had power and territory, you went running back to your first choice to have pups with her."

"But have you forgotten how she used to treat you? Do you have some kind of submission-sickness?"

In my memory, Raven Ashthorne had tormented Ronan more times than I could count.

Before we'd built ourselves up from nothing, that Omega from the rival territory had made his life hell.

She'd forced him to eat scraps meant for the lowest-ranked wolves. Made him kneel and bare his throat before her.

On our mating ceremony day, she'd shown up at the sacred grounds and set the bonding altar ablaze.

Our ritual had only made it halfway through.

After all that suffering, Ronan—and his entire pack—were now protecting this female. I couldn't wrap my head around it.

When I exposed the truth, Ronan scrambled to cover it up.

"That's all in the past. Why bring it up now?"

The pack Elders didn't seem to mind either.

Of course not. After all, she was carrying a pup now.

I lifted my chin, forcing the tears back.

"Ronan, you've loved her for years. Now that you're a powerful Alpha and she's carrying your heir, you brought her back."

"You got your pack Elders to accept her. All of you, letting bygones be bygones. How pathetic can you be?"

A clawed hand cracked across my face.

I stumbled, barely catching myself.

The burning sting on my cheek deepened my despair—but it also hardened something inside me.

"Bonded assets. I'm still entitled to an equal split of our shared territory."

"Ronan, don't push this too far. I've agreed to the Bond Dissolution. But if you think I'm walking away with nothing—"

I swept my gaze around the great hall of the central den.

My voice came out iron-hard: "If you force me to leave empty-handed, I'll die right here in this longhouse."

I'd never been one to make scenes or throw tantrums.

If they hadn't pushed me this far, I would have kept my dignity intact.

But leaving with nothing? That was the one thing I couldn't accept. My parents were in poor health, dependent on expensive healer tinctures and suppressants.

Ronan's eyes went bloodshot at my words, his wolf rising close to the surface.

"It's not leaving with nothing. I'm giving you a hundred thousand gold-marks."

"That's all you're getting. If we're talking about building this territory from nothing, I'm the one who did the real work."

I stared at him, stunned.

He was comparing labor with me?

We were in the den-restoration trade.

When we first started our small crew, we'd gone to clients' dens ourselves—measuring chambers, reinforcing walls with our own claws, hauling heavy stone and timber.

Sure, he was stronger in his shifted form. He'd done more of the physical work.

But I'd handled everything else. Running to the market stalls at dawn, cooking every meal over the fire pit, keeping us fed and functioning through harsh winters.

And now, today, it had become his hard work that mattered—implying I'd contributed nothing.

My voice tore out of me: "Ronan, you're disgusting."

Ronan waved his hand, already done with me. "Mother, Father—throw her out of the den. Bar the gates behind her."