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Rejected By The Beta, Claimed By The Alpha King Novel Cover

Rejected By The Beta, Claimed By The Alpha King

Amelia Blackwood has endured two years as a pack outcast after failing to shift on her sixteenth birthday. Treated as a servant by her own family, her life takes a drastic turn upon turning eighteen when she encounters the formidable Alpha King, Lukas Volkov. As she moves from servitude toward a potential throne, Amelia must survive brutal pack politics and looming betrayals. To secure her future, she must choose between submission and fighting for her place as the kingdom's queen.
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Chapter 6

: Amelia

I clawed my way back to consciousness through layers of darkness, each one heavier than the last. My mouth tasted of metal and ash, my tongue a foreign object too large for my jaw. Something cold and hard pressed against my cheek—concrete, my mind supplied distantly. I tried to move and regretted it immediately as pain lanced through my body, wolfsbane still burning in my veins like liquid silver. The thin blanket scratched against my naked skin as I forced my eyes open, the world swimming into a blurry focus of gray walls and iron bars.

Prison. Cell. Captive.

The words formed slowly in my mind, disconnected from meaning until reality crashed back like a wave. I had been running. I had been free. Then the rogues with their wolfsbane darts, their rancid breath, their hands on my skin…

I pushed myself upright, ignoring the protest of muscles not yet recovered from forced shifting. The blanket—more a rag than proper covering—slipped to my waist. I clutched it back over my chest, a useless gesture toward modesty in a situation that had stripped me of everything else.

Four bodies lay sprawled on the concrete floor around me, unmoving but for the shallow rise and fall of their chests. The rogues. My captors. Now, apparently, my fellow prisoners. One had a nasty gash across his forehead, crusted with dried blood. Another's arm bent at an unnatural angle. All wore the same vacant expression of drugged unconsciousness I had likely worn moments before.

"What the hell?" I whispered, voice scraping raw from my throat.

The cell was maybe twelve feet square, three concrete walls and one made of thick steel bars. Beyond, a narrow corridor stretched in both directions, lit by buzzing fluorescent lights that cast everything in a sickly pallor. No windows. No hint of whether it was day or night, or how long I'd been unconscious.

‘Athena?’ I called internally, reaching for the familiar presence of my wolf. Only silence answered, her consciousness still buried beneath layers of wolfsbane. I was alone in my own head for the first time since she'd awakened.

I swore under my breath, colourful curses Lily had taught me when no one was listening. We'd gone from the frying pan directly into the inferno. Free of Silver Lake only to be captured by rogues, then captured again by... who? The cell looked too clean, too official to be another rogue camp.

A sound drew my attention—boots on concrete, approaching with measured steps. I pulled the blanket tighter around me, painfully aware of my nakedness, my vulnerability. A man appeared outside the bars, his crisp black uniform marking him as something official. A guard. Not Silver Lake—their guards wore navy with silver trim—but something similar. Behind him, another guard stood at a slight distance, hand resting on the taser at his belt.

"The female's awake," the first guard called over his shoulder, not bothering to address me directly.

I pushed myself up further, wincing as my bare feet touched the cold floor. "Where am I?" My voice sounded strange to my own ears—too high, too frightened.

The guard's eyes swept over me with clinical detachment. "Prisoner holding. Royal City."

The Royal City. My heart stuttered. I'd run north, straight into the territory of the Alpha King himself. Of all places to be captured, this was the worst possible outcome.

"There's been a mistake," I said, taking a step toward the bars, then stopping as the second guard's hand moved to his weapon. "I'm not with them. They captured me in the forest. Used wolfsbane darts to force my shift. I was running from—" I stopped, unsure how to explain my situation without admitting I'd fled my pack, a serious offense in its own right.

"Save it for your trial," the first guard said, boredom evident in his tone. He'd clearly heard every possible story from desperate prisoners.

"You don't understand," I insisted, desperation clawing at my throat. "I'm from Silver Lake Pack. These rogues attacked me. You can contact Alpha Marcus Blackwood—" The lie tasted bitter, but I needed someone, anyone to believe me.

The guard exchanged a glance with his partner. Something like amusement passed between them.

"Silver Lake, huh?" The second guard stepped closer, studying me with newfound interest. "That's what the last one said too. Must be your pack's new defense strategy."

"The last—? No, I'm telling the truth!" I clutched the bars, the metal cold beneath my fingers. "Please, just contact them. Ask for—" I faltered. Who would vouch for me? Not Marcus or Elena, who had cast me out. Not Alexander, who had rejected me. Lily? A servant's word would hold no weight.

The first guard sighed, reaching for something on his belt. A syringe filled with amber liquid gleamed under the harsh lights. "Female's getting agitated. Standard procedure."

"No!" I backed away from the bars, bumping into one of the unconscious rogues. He groaned but didn't wake. "I'm not agitated. I'm trying to explain. They drugged me. I'm not one of them!"

The cell door unlocked with an ominous clank. Both guards entered, expressions impassive as they advanced on me.

"Please," I whispered, backing against the wall, nowhere left to retreat. "Please don't."

The second guard grabbed my arm, twisting it behind my back with practiced efficiency. I struggled, but the wolfsbane still in my system had weakened me, and his grip was like iron.

"Typical rogue," the first guard muttered, tapping the syringe to remove air bubbles. "Always someone else's fault. Always a mistake." He found a vein in my exposed arm and slid the needle in without gentleness.

Fire spread from the injection site, racing through my veins with familiar agony. Wolfsbane again, stealing what little strength I'd recovered.

"I'm not..." The words slurred as darkness crept in from the edges of my vision. "Not a rogue..."

The last thing I saw before consciousness slipped away was the guard's indifferent face as he stepped back, duty completed, problem solved.

"Sweet dreams, prisoner," he said, voice fading as the drug pulled me under. "Better save your stories for the Alpha King. He'll be your judge, jury, and executioner soon enough."

Then there was nothing but darkness once more.

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