Unwanted by Him, Chosen by the Stronger Alpha

Olivia POV

The dinner felt like an eternity, dragging its claws through the night. Wine flowed like water, and for the first time in his life, I saw Marcus losing his iron grip on control. He usually kept a clear head, a sign of his legendary discipline. But tonight, with Izzy draped over him like a trophy, he was knocking back glass after glass of red wine as if trying to drown something inside him.

By the time the guests began to filter out, Marcus was swaying on his feet.

"Get him to his room," Izzy snapped at a guard, then flicked her gaze at me. "You. Help them. I need to say goodbye to the guests."

I didn't argue. I just wanted this night to end.

I took Marcus's other arm. He was heavy, his body heat radiating through his suit like a furnace. The scent of him—cedar and rain—was soured by alcohol, but it still made my traitorous instincts flare.

We hauled him up the stairs to the guest suite. The guard dumped him on the bed and left immediately, eager to get away from the unpredictable drunk Alpha.

I turned to leave, but a hand shot out and clamped around my wrist.

"Don't go..."

I froze. Marcus pulled me down. He was strong, even in his stupor. I fell onto the edge of the bed.

He blinked, his golden eyes unfocused and swimming. He reached up and touched my cheek. His thumb traced my jawline.

"Izzy..." he whispered.

I went rigid. "I'm not Izzy."

"My Izzy," he slurred, ignoring me. "I waited so long... so long to find you again."

Ice flooded my veins. "Again?"

"I hate hiding it," he mumbled, closing his eyes. "Hate pretending... with her."

"With who?" I whispered. My heart was hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.

"The Runt," he groaned. "Olivia."

I felt like I had been punched in the gut. "What about Olivia?"

"She looks like you," Marcus murmured, a sick smile spreading across his face. "Her eyes... her nose. Just like you, Izzy. That's why I kept her around. A placeholder."

I stopped breathing.

Placeholder.

"But I had to punish her," he continued, his voice dropping to a dark growl. "She thought she was my Mate. Stupid thing. Only you... always you."

He rolled over, burying his face in the pillow. "We'll name the baby Izzy... or Marcus... doesn't matter. As long as the Runt is gone."

Then, silence. He passed out.

I sat there, frozen. The silence in the room was deafening.

It wasn't just a rejection. It wasn't just about strength or bloodlines.

He had used me. He had watched me grow up, watched me worship him, and he had tolerated it only because I looked like the woman he actually wanted. I was a doll. A substitute. A shadow.

I stood up. My legs felt surprisingly steady. The pain that had been consuming me for days suddenly vanished, replaced by a cold, hard clarity.

I wasn't sad anymore. I was furious.

I walked out of the room. As I passed the study, I heard voices. The door was cracked open.

"You told him too much," a female voice hissed. Izzy.

"He's drunk, he won't remember," a guard replied.

"He better not," Izzy said. "If he remembers admitting that he’s been obsessed with me since we were teenagers, it ruins the narrative. We are Fated, remember? That’s the story."

"And the girl?"

"Olivia?" Izzy laughed. It was a cruel, sharp sound. "She’s broken. She’ll leave, or she’ll die. Either way, she’s not a threat. She thinks it's the Mate Bond causing her pain. She doesn't realize Marcus has been playing her for years."

I didn't stay to hear the rest.

I went to my room. I didn't pack clothes. I didn't pack money.

I grabbed the wooden crate from the closet.

I walked out to the fire pit in the backyard. The embers from the party were still glowing orange in the darkness.

I opened the crate. I took out the jersey. The pen. The dried flowers he had once handed me absentmindedly.

I threw them onto the coals.

Then I took the drawing. The masterpiece of my devotion. The black wolf with the golden eyes.

"I, Olivia Hayes," I whispered to the night air, "reject you, Marcus Thorne."

I tossed the drawing into the fire. The paper curled, the charcoal wolf turning to ash before disintegrating completely.

I watched it burn until there was nothing left.

I went to my father's study. He was awake, sitting by the window in the dark. He looked at me, and he saw the change. The girl who had walked into the room was gone.

"I'm leaving, Dad," I said.

He didn't argue. He didn't even look surprised. He stood up and went to his safe with a heavy resignation. He pulled out a thick envelope and a set of keys.

"There's a cabin," he said, his voice shaking. "In Montana. It’s off the grid. No Pack jurisdiction. Take my truck."

He handed me the keys. His hands were warm, but trembling.

"Don't tell me where you're going," he said, tears spilling over. "If Marcus uses the Alpha Command on me... I can't betray you if I don't know."

I hugged him. "I love you, Dad."

"Run, baby," he whispered, holding me tight. "Run and be free."

I left the note on his desk. Just one line.

*Dad, I have never wanted to be free more than I do right now.*

I climbed into the truck. As I drove away from the Moonstone Pack, I didn't look back. The bond in my chest was dead. The love was dead.

But as the tires hit the highway, I felt something stir deep inside my gut. Not the weak, pathetic whimper of a Runt.

It was a growl.