Rejected by the Pack’s False King

I arrived at the Blue Moon Packhouse early, just as I had every day for the past three years. The first time I ended up in Alpha Cyrus Graham’s bed, he told me I no longer needed to adhere to the pack’s strict schedule. He said I could come and go as I pleased—a privilege reserved for those in his inner circle. He called it a perk.

But I never took advantage of it. I told him I was used to the discipline of a Gamma and couldn’t sleep in. Truthfully, I felt that indulging in such privileges would mean losing the last shred of dignity I had left. In a world where Alphas ruled with unquestioned authority, I clung to the respect I’d earned through hard work and loyalty.

"Good morning, Gamma Millie." The voice belonged to Romina Thompson, a Delta who had recently been promoted to be the Alpha’s personal assistant. She was dressed impeccably, her vintage dress and flawless makeup suggesting she’d been up for hours. I didn’t dislike her; in fact, I felt a vague sense of sympathy for her.

Being close to the Alpha might seem like a dream, but in reality, it was exhausting. Not only did I have to maintain my position as Gamma, but I also had to prove myself constantly so others wouldn’t dismiss me as just another pawn in Cyrus’s games.

"Morning," I replied curtly, already turning to leave. Suddenly, I hesitated and handed her a neatly folded slip of paper. "Alpha Cyrus has a lunch meeting with Lycan Prince Steven Alexander today. I’ve arranged it at the Italian restaurant in town. Be there by noon to oversee the preparations."

"Me?" Her voice was tinged with excitement, a stark contrast to my own detachment. She and I were fundamentally different—she thrived on the idea of getting closer to the Alpha, while I was desperate to distance myself.

"Yes, you. This meeting is crucial for pack alliances. Make sure nothing goes wrong."

Cyrus had wanted me to handle this meeting myself, but I knew he was just trying to test me, to see if I’d still obey his every command. The truth was, I didn’t care anymore. I had long stopped worrying about proving my loyalty to him.

I turned and headed back to the packhouse office, where the perpetually late Alpha Cyrus finally made his appearance. I gathered the stack of documents I’d prepared and followed him into his private study.

"Alpha Cyrus," I began, my tone formal and respectful, "as you instructed, you have lunch with Lycan Prince Steven today. I’ve arranged for Delta Romina to handle the details."

He stiffened at that, tossing his phone onto the polished oak desk. "Oh? You’re quite obedient and efficient, Gamma Millie. Someone might think you’re eager to get away from me."

I suppressed a sigh. Even if he was right, I had to pretend otherwise. Playing my part had become second nature over the past three years.

I met his gaze, my eyes slightly reddened—a carefully calculated act. "Alpha Cyrus, what exactly do you want from me? I’ve already distanced myself as much as I can. Isn’t that obedient enough?"

The vulnerable act was one I’d perfected over the years, and it worked. His expression softened, though only for a moment. "She might not handle it well. You should go at lunchtime."

"Of course, Alpha."

"Wait," he added, his voice sharp. "Take her with you. She needs to learn."

"Understood." I handed him the stack of files I’d been holding. "These are the internal approval documents you’ve already reviewed. They just need your signature."

He opened the file, barely glancing at the contents, and signed his name with a flourish. I watched him carefully, my heart pounding as he unknowingly signed the last document—my resignation letter.

"Alpha Cyrus," I said, my voice steady, "you have no scheduled commitments this afternoon. You’re free to arrange your time as you wish."

I left his study, clutching the signed documents, and finally allowed myself a quiet sigh of relief. Hidden among those papers was my ticket to freedom.