The Alpha Who Chose Her Over Me

That night, Alpha Kyson didn’t return to our den. I sat on the couch, restless, unable to sleep. The emptiness of the house pressed in on me, and in a moment of weakness, I opened Jolie Montgomery’s Instagram.

As a Delta warrior in Alpha Kyson’s pack, Jolie’s life seemed intertwined with his in ways I hadn’t fully realized until now. I scrolled through her posts, each one a tiny fragment of a story I didn’t want to piece together but couldn’t ignore.

There was a time I was curled up in bed, watching a reality TV show. Alpha Kyson had leaned in, adjusting his tie, and chuckled, “This show is a hoot.” I had been surprised; he had never shown interest in reality TV before. Now, I understood why. Jolie had posted several screenshots from that same show, and Alpha Kyson had commented, “I’ll have to check it out sometime.”

For years, I had hoped Alpha Kyson would watch reality TV with me. Every time, he’d brush it off, saying he was too busy. Later, he flatly told me he couldn’t stand them and asked me to drop it. Turns out, it wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy watching them—it was that he didn’t enjoy watching them with me.

I kept scrolling. Jolie was wearing a Victorian-style dress, posing beside her desk. Her caption read: “So thrilled!” I had the same dress. It was during the month Jolie posted that picture that Alpha Kyson had gone abroad and brought it back for me. When I wore it, he said it reminded him of our younger days. I thought he was reminiscing about our past. But now I see he was simply mourning the passage of my youth.

Further down, Jolie shared a photo of a cup of gelato with the caption: “A bit tart, a bit sweet—just like my mood!” Alpha Kyson had liked it. I instantly recognized the packaging. It was from a little artisanal shop near my former office, not well-known but absolutely delicious. They didn’t offer delivery; you had to buy it in person. After I quit my job to focus on our home, I often stopped by to bring some back.

I suddenly remembered a time when Alpha Kyson asked me what treats I liked. I casually mentioned gelato, and he asked where my favorite spot was. I sent him the address, expecting him to surprise me with it someday. I thought he was planning something special for me. Later, I assumed he had just forgotten. Turns out, I wasn’t even on his radar.

Jolie’s Instagram was set to show posts from the last three months. Every post had traces of Alpha Kyson. Every post was a hazy, romantic bubble. Until the one before her attempted suicide, accompanied by a photo of her wrist: “I’m greedy. If I can’t have it all to myself, I’d rather not have it at all.”

I had to admit, she was bold. The scar looked terrifying. I saw Alpha Kyson’s comment below: “Jolie, I’m on my way, hang in there!” They seemed like a couple torn apart by fate, and I was the one standing in their way.

My heart ached as if pierced by a thousand needles. As I closed the app, I saw Jolie’s latest status: “April Fools’ Day isn’t for roses; Valentine’s Day is.”

I sat on the bed, overwhelmed by despair, when another memory struck me. This past April Fools’ Day, Alpha Kyson had ordered a bouquet of roses. He’d placed the order while I was in the shower. I had forgotten my towel and returned to the bedroom, accidentally glimpsing his phone. I had been puzzled at the time. “Why are you sending me flowers on April Fools’ Day?”

Alpha Kyson had paused, then smiled. “It’s for a prank. Some of us at the packhouse want to play a joke on the new warrior, pretend someone is confessing to her just to see her flustered.”

I hadn’t suspected a thing. I just told him not to hurt her feelings. But in the end, the only one hurt was me.

I curled up on the couch, my hands and feet growing cold. I don’t know how much time passed before my phone rang. I picked it up to see it was Alpha Kyson’s assistant.

“Luna Kalani,” the assistant’s voice was hesitant, “Alpha Kyson asked me to let you know he’ll be staying at the packhouse tonight. He’s... occupied with pack matters.”

I hung up without a word, my wolf stirring faintly in the back of my mind, a quiet, pained whimper escaping her. I clutched my chest, the mate bond burning like a brand, a reminder of promises broken and a bond fraying at the edges.

As I sat there in the silence, I couldn’t help but wonder how much longer I could hold on to something that felt like it was slipping through my fingers.