Rejected, My Ex's Brother-in-Law Claims Me

Alessandra POV

The dawn light that bled through the heavy curtains of the Alpha's suite was gray and lifeless, matching the hollow cavity in my chest. I lay still, my breathing shallow and measured, feigning sleep when the door clicked open.

Demetri entered. The air in the room shifted, but not in the way that usually made my soul sing. Typically, his scent—rainstorm and deep pine—would wrap around me like a protective blanket. Today, it choked me.

Clinging to him, woven into the very fabric of his clothes, was her.

Isadora.

It was a sickly, floral perfume, cloying and heavy, like flowers left too long on a grave. It screamed of intimacy. It screamed of long hours spent holding her, comforting her, letting her mark him with her synthetic stench while I lay here, burning with fever and carrying his heir.

He didn't look at me. I watched through the screen of my lashes as he stripped off his shirt, tossing it carelessly onto the floor. His movements were stiff, his jaw set in a hard line. He walked straight into the bathroom, and moments later, the shower turned on.

He was washing her off. Or maybe he was washing me off, preparing to go back to her fresh.

The sound of the water was a roar in the silence. I didn't cry. I had shed my last tear last night when I shredded the medical report into confetti. The pain was gone, replaced by a cold, sharp clarity.

He made his choice, my wolf whimpered, curling into a ball in the back of my mind. Now we must make ours.

I placed a hand over my flat stomach. "I won't let him break you, little one," I whispered into the gloom. "We're leaving."

By evening, the suffocating silence of the Pack House was driving me mad. When Kaia showed up at my door, demanding I join her at The Howling Oak, I didn't have the energy to fight her.

You look like a ghost, Ali, Kaia said, dragging me toward a booth in the bustling grill. "You need grease, alcohol, and noise. In that order."

No alcohol, I murmured, sliding into the wooden booth. "Just soda."

Suit yourself. Kaia grinned, her eyes sparkling with a mischief I hadn't seen in months. "Besides, I have someone I want you to meet."

A man approached our table. He was tall, with sandy blonde hair and a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. He moved with the fluid grace of a wolf, but something about him set my teeth on edge.

Alessandra, this is Caleb Vance, Kaia introduced, beaming. "From the Ironwood Pack."

Caleb extended a hand. "The famous Alessandra. Kaia talks about you incessantly."

I took his hand, expecting a polite shake. Instead, he squeezed too hard, his thumb dragging deliberately across my palm. His nail scratched the sensitive skin—a subtle, nasty gesture of disrespect masked as a greeting.

Charmed, he said, his voice slick.

I pulled my hand back as if burned. A wave of nausea rolled through me, violent and sudden. It wasn't just the morning sickness; it was a warning. My baby, even as a tiny spark of life, rejected him.

Excuse me, I choked out, sliding out of the booth. "Restroom."

I rushed down the dimly lit hallway, the noise of the bar fading. I splashed cold water on my face, trying to scrub away the feeling of Caleb's skin on mine. When the nausea finally subsided, I stepped back into the corridor, only to freeze.

Voices drifted from the shadows near the emergency exit.

...easy prey, a male voice sneered. Caleb. "The Moran girl is desperate for attention. One good marking, and I'll have her pack eating out of my hand."

My blood ran cold.

And the other one? another voice asked—one of his lackeys.

The Omega? Caleb laughed, a low, ugly sound. "She's a bonus. I've always wanted to taste what the Stonecrest Alpha keeps locked away. Maybe I'll break her in before I take over the Moran territory."

Rage, hot and blinding, flooded my veins. He wasn't just a creep; he was a predator plotting against my best friend.

I stepped out of the shadows just as Caleb turned the corner. His eyes widened slightly, then narrowed into a smirk. He didn't look ashamed. He looked hungry.

Done throwing up, sweetheart? He took a step toward me, blocking my path back to the main room. His gaze raked over my body, lingering on my chest. "You know, you're too pretty to be a servant. I could show you a better time than Hamilton ever could."

My hand found a half-empty glass of cranberry soda someone had left on a side table. My knuckles turned white.

Get out of my way, Caleb, I said, my voice trembling not with fear, but with fury.

He chuckled, stepping closer, invading my personal space. The smell of cheap cologne and stale beer assaulted my nose. "Don't play hard to get. I know what you Omegas are like. You crave a real Alpha."

He reached for my waist.

Snap.

I didn't think. I swung the glass.

Ice, red syrup, and carbonated water exploded across his face.

Caleb sputtered, stumbling back, the sticky red liquid dripping from his nose and chin like blood. The bar went silent around us, or maybe that was just the rushing in my ears.

Slowly, Caleb wiped his eyes. When he opened them, the human mask was gone. His irises bled into the glowing yellow of his wolf. A low, dangerous growl ripped from his throat.

You little bitch, he snarled, lunging forward. His hand clamped around my wrist, crushing the bone. "I'll teach you some respect!"