From Rejected Omega to the Supreme Alpha's Queen

I stood before a polished black headstone, tracing the gold letters of my own name.

Five years ago, my Fated Mate, Clayton, rejected me in a blizzard because I was a "useless Omega" who couldn't shift. He left me to freeze to death so he could mate with my sister, Ainsley, claiming it was necessary for the pack's genetics.

Now, Clayton stood behind me, trembling as he dropped a bouquet of wilted lilies.

He thought I was a ghost. But when he realized I was alive, the shock turned into arrogance. He tried to use his Alpha Command to force me to my knees.

My family was even worse. When I walked into the pack house, my father accused me of treason for "faking my death." My aunt tried to slap me for being disrespectful. They demanded I donate my blood to save my father's life, still treating me like a disposable resource.

They didn't realize that the pressure crushing the room wasn't coming from them—it was coming from me.

They had thrown away a Royal White Wolf to keep a human pretending to be a shifter. The irony was suffocating.

I didn't flinch when they threatened me. I just smiled and let my true aura explode, turning the air to ice.

"You rejected me for being weak," I whispered, my eyes flashing silver.

Then, the doors blew off their hinges. My husband, the Supreme Alpha, walked in and grabbed the elders by the throat.

"You just declared war on the Blood Moon Pack."

Chapter 1

Ivy POV:

The marble of the headstone was cold under my fingertips. It was polished black stone, the kind rich families bought to perform grief for the public while feeling absolutely nothing in private.

I traced the gold lettering.

Here lies Ivy Dillard. Beloved Daughter. Gone too soon.

"Beloved daughter," I whispered, the wind snatching the words from my lips. "What a joke."

I adjusted my dark sunglasses. My black trench coat whipped around my legs in the Chicago wind. Five years ago, the cold would have killed me. I was a weak Omega then, a wolf who couldn't shift, shivering in the snow where they left me to die.

Now, the cold felt like a lover's caress. My inner wolf, a beast of pure white fur and ancient power, stretched contentedly in my chest. She enjoyed the irony. We were standing on our own grave.

"I didn't expect to see anyone here."

The voice came from behind me. I didn't need to turn. I'd heard the hesitation in his heavy footsteps the moment they crunched onto the gravel.

Clayton Greene.

My nose twitched. The wind carried his scent to me. Once, it had smelled like rain and comfort. Now? It smelled like stagnation. Like a pond that had sat too long without fresh water.

And then, he inhaled. I heard the sharp intake of breath.

He caught my scent.

It wasn't the milky, barely-there scent of a dormant Omega anymore. It was the