When My Alpha Chose Her

I woke up to the sound of rain drumming against the cedar roof. For a moment, I forgot where I was. There were no heavy silk drapes blocking the light. No smell of expensive cologne lingering in the sheets. Just the earthy scent of wet pine and the smoky warmth of the woodstove Mara must have stoked before I woke up.

Buster stretched at the foot of the bed, letting out a loud yawn.

"Morning, buddy," I whispered, scratching behind his ears.

I sat up and pulled my duffel bag onto the mattress. I didn't bring much from Shadowvale. A few sweaters, some jeans, my laptop. As I reached into the bottom pocket for my thick wool socks, my fingers brushed against something hard. A small, square velvet box.

I pulled it out and stared at it. I knew exactly what was inside.

I popped the lid open. A deep blue sapphire pendant rested on a bed of white satin. It was attached to a thick silver chain. Tristan had given it to me three years ago, right before the annual Winter Solstice Gala. He hadn't wrapped it. He hadn't even smiled. He just handed me the box in his office and said, "Wear this tonight. It goes with the dress."

I had thought it was a milestone. A quiet promise. I wore it to every major pack event after that, touching it whenever I felt insecure.

I picked the necklace up by the chain. The sapphire caught the gray morning light from the window. It was beautiful, heavy, and cold. As the pendant spun slowly in the air, the silver clasp caught my eye. There were tiny scratches on the metal.

No, not scratches. An engraving.

I frowned and brought it closer to the window. The letters were small, elegant, and worn down by time.

*R.H.*

Reese Hudson.

The air in the cabin seemed to stop moving. I stared at the two letters. They stared back, mocking me.

It wasn't a gift. It was a leftover. It was the mating necklace he had bought for his fated mate when they were eighteen. The one she rejected before she left for Europe. He had kept it all those years, and then he tossed it to me like a bone to a stray dog. He didn't even care enough to buy me my own jewelry.

I didn't gasp. I didn't throw the necklace against the wall. I didn't even cry. I just felt a cold, hard knot of disgust settle in my stomach. I was right to leave. I was never his mate. I was just a warm body wearing another woman's discarded jewelry.

I walked over to the small wooden nightstand next to the bed. I dropped the necklace inside, shut the drawer with a firm thud, and walked away. I didn't look back at it. Not even once.

***

**Tristan**

The Shadowvale dining hall was deafening. Laughter, clinking glasses, the loud chatter of pack warriors. It was a celebration for Reese. I had just approved a massive transfer of pack funds to launch her luxury she-wolf brand across three allied territories. She was sitting in the high-backed chair to my right. The Luna's chair.

"Tristan, darling, the new packaging looks incredible," Reese said, leaning close. She placed a manicured hand on my thigh.

A thick wave of white jasmine perfume washed over me.

For five years, I had craved that smell. I had chased faint traces of it. But right now, as it filled my lungs, something felt wrong. My inner wolf didn't leap toward her. He didn't purr. Instead, he pulled back, pacing nervously in the dark corners of my mind. He let out a low, uneasy whine.

*Wrong,* my wolf whispered. *Too sweet. Suffocating.*

I stiffened and gently moved her hand off my leg. "I'm glad you like it, Reese," I said, my voice tight.

She gave me a perfect, practiced smile, completely unaffected by my coldness, and turned back to her conversation with the Gamma.

I couldn't breathe. The air in the hall felt too thick. I pushed my chair back and stood up. "Excuse me. Pack business."

I didn't wait for a response. I walked out of the dining hall and headed down the long, quiet corridor toward the residential wing. The noise faded behind me. The stone walls were cold and silent.

As I passed the grand staircase, I stopped. I stood completely still, flaring my nostrils.

I was looking for it. That warm, soft scent of amber and honey. The smell of old books and dog fur. It used to be everywhere. It used to anchor me when the pack politics got too loud.

I took a deep breath, searching the air. But there was nothing. Just the sterile smell of lemon cleaner and floor wax. She was gone, and she had taken her scent with her. An unexpected, hollow ache cracked open in my chest.

I shook my head and walked quickly to my office. I went inside and locked the heavy oak door behind me. The room was dark, lit only by the brass desk lamp.

I walked over to my desk and unlocked the bottom drawer. Inside was a thick manila envelope. Two days ago, I had wired an exorbitant sum of money to a small indie publishing house. I bought the exclusive rights to a romance novel.

I didn't tell Derek. I didn't tell anyone. I couldn't even explain to myself why I needed it so badly.

I pulled the stack of printed manuscript pages from the envelope and set them on the desk. The author's name was printed cleanly at the top. *Faye Montgomery.*

She wrote it years ago, back when we first met. I sat down in my leather chair, the silence of the office pressing in on me. I reached out and traced my finger over her name.

Then, I turned to the first page.

I started reading. I read about a powerful, brooding Alpha who built walls of ice around his heart. I read about a quiet she-wolf who stood by him, loving him from the shadows, waiting for him to see her.

Her words were raw. They were full of a quiet, desperate devotion.

*He looked at her, but he did not see her,* Faye had written in chapter four. *He only saw the ghosts he refused to bury.*

My breath hitched. I gripped the paper, the edges crinkling under my fingers. I was searching her words for myself. I was looking for the love she used to give me so freely—the love I had ignored for five years.

My wolf let out a tragic, broken howl in my mind.

I sat alone in the dark office, surrounded by my wealth and my territory, reading the words of a woman I had thrown away. And for the first time in my life, I felt completely and utterly empty.