Rejected by the Alpha, Claimed by the King

When I was nineteen, during a scorching summer, I left everything behind to run away with Amazon. Through tears, the young Beta of the Blue Moon Pack promised he’d never let me down. Seven years later, in the heart of winter, I was diagnosed with a rare illness while Amazon celebrated Vienna’s birthday, his childhood friend and a Delta in the pack.

Leaving the pack’s healing center, I stepped into the season’s first snowfall, clutching the thin paper with my diagnosis in one hand and my phone in the other, debating whether to call Amazon. Our last conversation was still on the screen, dated a week ago. After Vienna returned from a neighboring pack’s territory, we had a big argument and had been giving each other the silent treatment. He barely came home anymore, his duties as Beta seemingly overshadowing everything else. Staring at my empty contact list, I realized I had no one to turn to. The healer’s words echoed in my mind—I had only a few months left to live.

After a long pause, I dialed Amazon’s number. The phone rang endlessly; unsurprisingly, no one picked up. Cold wind mixed with snowflakes hit my face, chilling me to the bone. I quickly pulled out a scarf to wrap around my neck. Maybe it was psychological, but ever since I got sick, I was much more sensitive to the cold. The scarf was a simple white one, with a cute little teddy bear carefully stitched at the end. Amazon had knitted it himself as a special gift for my eighteenth birthday. That winter, it was all the rage in our pack for mates to knit scarves for each other. I was hopeless with my hands, my fingers pricked red with every attempt. Amazon, worried, wouldn’t let me continue knitting. But on my birthday, he wrapped his own handmade scarf around my neck, marking it as a symbol of our mate bond.

The warmth from the scarf surrounded my neck, and suddenly, I felt an intense longing to see him. My wolf stirred within me, a quiet whimper of pain that I quickly silenced. I didn’t need her reminding me of the bond that still tied us together, even as it frayed at the edges.

I glanced back at the healing center, where Ashton, the pack’s Gamma, had been overseeing my treatment. His broad frame stood out even from a distance, his protective aura unmistakable. He had been a constant presence since my diagnosis, offering support in ways Amazon no longer did. But I couldn’t bring myself to burden him further. Not now.

The snow continued to fall, blanketing the pack territory in a soft white silence. I tightened the scarf around my neck, the familiar scent of Amazon—sandalwood and pine—lingering faintly on the fabric. It was a scent that had once brought me comfort, a reminder of the mate bond we had sworn to uphold. But now, it only deepened the ache in my chest.

I turned away from