My Alpha Begged Me Back After Calling Me Unworthy

The spiritual boar's heart was still warm under my blade when the kitchen doors slammed open.

I didn't look up. My silver boning knife moved with practiced precision, separating membrane from muscle in one clean stroke. The scent of iron and wild sage filled the air—the signature of a beast that had fed on moonflowers in the northern territories. Three years working at the Moonlight Hotel had taught me to lose myself in the work, to find peace in the rhythm of the cut.

"Well, well. Still playing butcher, I see."

That voice. My hand stilled.

Kendrick Perry stood in the doorway, his designer suit catching the fluorescent lights. Beside him, Angelina Scott held up her phone, the little red recording light blinking like a predator's eye. Behind them, a camera crew crowded into my workspace, their equipment invading the sanctuary I'd built.

"Charity for a rogue," Kendrick said, tossing a stack of bills at my feet. They scattered across the tile, some landing in the pooled blood. "You look like you need it."

Angelina's laugh was sharp. "Oh my goddess, look at her. Covered in blood like some feral creature. This is going straight to the pack network."

My wolf stirred, a low growl building in my chest. But I'd learned control. Three years of rebuilding myself, of proving I was more than the Omega he'd thrown away.

I set down my knife. Picked up one of the bills. The blood soaked into the paper as I wiped my blade clean, the motion deliberate. Slow.

Then I walked forward and slapped the soiled cash against Kendrick's pristine white shirt.

"I don't need your charity," I said quietly. "And this is Lycan territory. You have no authority here."

Kendrick's face flushed red. Angelina's phone was still recording, but I didn't care anymore. Let them see.

"Mama?"

My heart stopped. Paislee stood in the doorway behind them, her school bag sliding off her shoulder. She'd come straight from class like always, expecting to find me working in peace.

Angelina's smile turned vicious. "Oh, look. The pup of a rogue."

"Don't," I warned, moving forward. But Kendrick was faster.

He raised his hand toward my daughter, his face twisted with contempt. "Get out of here, you little—"

The kitchen doors exploded inward.

Leonidas Graham moved like liquid shadow, his hand catching Kendrick's wrist mid-air. The Alpha's arm stopped as if he'd hit a wall. Then Leonidas's eyes flashed gold—not the amber of a werewolf, but the molten gold of ancient Lycan power.

The temperature in the room dropped.

Kendrick's knees hit the tile with a crack that echoed off the stainless steel counters. His Alpha aura, usually so commanding, shattered like glass against the weight of Leonidas's presence. Even Angelina stumbled back, her phone clattering to the floor.

"You dare," Leonidas said, his voice soft as death, "raise your hand to a child in my territory?"

Kendrick's mouth opened, but no sound came out. His wolf had submitted completely, forcing him into