My Alpha Planned to Reject Me at the Gala

The leather folder in my hands felt heavier than it looked, but the weight was a comfort. Inside lay the signed trade agreement with the Northern Timber Pack—a deal my father, Alpha Marcus of Stone Creek, had said was impossible. I had spent three months negotiating tariffs, soothing egos, and leveraging my family’s reputation to secure it. This wasn’t just paper; it was prosperity for the Silverclaw Pack. It was proof that I, Aria Stone, was more than just a political ornament.

I smoothed the front of my silk dress, my heart fluttering with a naive, pathetic hope. Maybe this would be enough. Maybe today, when I placed this victory on Alpha Damian’s desk, he would finally look at me with something other than indifference. Maybe he would see his Luna.

I reached for the heavy oak handle of his office door, but my hand froze mid-air.

A low, guttural groan vibrated through the wood, followed by a high-pitched, breathy giggle. The sound was like a serrated knife dragging across my skin.

“Damian, stop… someone might hear,” a female voice whispered, though she didn’t sound like she wanted him to stop at all.

“Let them hear,” Damian’s voice rumbled, dripping with an arrogance that used to make my knees weak. Now, it just made my stomach turn. “I’m the Alpha. I do what I want. And what I want is you, Callie.”

Callie. The name tasted like bile. She was a Gamma’s daughter—young, ambitious, and possessing a kind of desperate hunger that men like Damian mistook for passion. I knew he had been spending time with her, claiming it was for "pack morale," but I had forced myself to look away. I had trusted the bond. The Moon Goddess didn’t make mistakes.

I leaned closer to the crack in the door, holding my breath.

Through the sliver of space, I saw them. Callie was perched on the edge of his mahogany desk—the same desk where I handled the pack’s finances every morning. Her legs were wrapped around his waist, her fingers tangled in his dark hair. The scent of them—arousal, musk, and cheap vanilla perfume—assaulted my nose, overpowering my own scent of rain and jasmine.

“But Aria…” Callie pouted, tracing a finger down his chest. “She’s your fated mate. The Elders say—”

“The Elders are old fools, and Aria is a frigid statue,” Damian interrupted, his voice harsh. “She’s a political asset, nothing more. A bridge to her father’s territory. Do you know what it’s like to be bedded by a spreadsheet, Callie? There is no fire.”

A tear slipped down my cheek, hot and humiliating. I bit my lip until I tasted iron.

“I’m going to end it,” Damian continued, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial growl. “At the Winter Solstice Gala. I’ll reject her publicly. Once the bond is severed, I’ll mark you. You’ll be the Luna this pack deserves.”

The folder slipped from my numb fingers, hitting the carpet with a soft thud. Inside the room, the