Rejected by the Alpha, Claimed by the King

I can endure, truly endure.

For two years, my mate, Alpha Thomas of the Silver Moon Pack, has been living with his Beta, Lainey. I stayed quietly compliant, made no fuss, and took care of our pups, Jayden and Laila, and my mother-in-law, Oaklyn, at the pack den without complaint. When I give, I give everything; when I take back, I leave no stone unturned.

Yesterday, Cameron, my confidant and a skilled tracker, mentioned that Alpha Thomas and Lainey had a huge fight. This was their eighth argument. I decided the time was ripe.

********************************

Today marks the beginning of my plan.

Standing on the rooftop of the pack headquarters, a thirty-story building that loomed over the city, I let the wind stir my dull, emotionless mood. I dialed Alpha Thomas's number. As usual, Lainey, his Beta and mistress, answered with her standard line: "Alpha Thomas is in a meeting."

I twisted my face into a snarl, my Luna authority slipping through my tone, "If you don’t put him on the phone now, I’ll jump. See if you can wash your hands of that."

Lainey went silent. Threat successful.

Alpha Thomas’s face appeared on the video call. I immediately burst into tears, "I just want to ask, my Alpha, it’s been two years, do you still remember the way home?"

His eyes flickered with surprise, as if he knew I’d never wanted a rejection, so he used not coming home as leverage. Two years have passed, and under my care, Jayden, Laila, and my parents have been safe and sound. Today, just to see him, I resorted to threatening him with a rooftop jump. The fool must think he’s irresistible, that I can’t live without him.

"Why make me come home? A phone call would suffice. Why the rooftop drama?" he questioned, his deep Alpha voice carrying a hint of annoyance.

I didn’t dare mention that Lainey had been screening his calls. Maybe he already knew. Who cares?

"The pups miss you. If you don’t come back soon, they’ll think you’ve vanished."

"Nonsense," he replied, his tone colder than the winter winds.

"I’ll be home tonight."

I wiped away my tears and the physical pain that felt like pulling muscles from bone, then walked down from the rooftop. The wind was quite strong up there, despite the warmth. No wonder the ancient poet wrote, "I desire to ride the wind and return home, but fear the high towers and the cold."

Coming back down to earth, am I a different kind of "high"?

My mood inexplicably lifted; even the sunlight felt warmer. Truly, no matter how high the temperature outside, I’ve always felt a biting chill these past two years. Faces pale every season. My parents worried endlessly, urging me to see the pack healer. But my heart was frozen, and no medicine would melt it.

As usual, I stopped by my parents’ new den, a modest territory I had secured for them near the pack borders. Mom, Lucille, hugged me tightly, tears streaming. A mother knows her daughter best, aware of all my grievances over the past two years. I wiped away her tears, smiling, "Mom, why cry? I’m fine. We have plenty of food and drink. I’m just doing this to make a point to him."

Maybe I’m the one who’s had enough, but it’s time to act. This is just the first step. I never intended to jump or die. And I knew he wouldn’t come back today; Lainey wouldn’t allow it. When he does return depends on how much Lainey weighs in his heart. Judging by their fight, I think it won’t be long now.

Mom and I went to the pack market, picking out the most expensive items, filling the trunk—all charged to his account. In these two years, with him not coming home, I lived frugally, fearing spending too much might become his excuse for rejection, striving to make myself invisible.

Starting today, I’ll spend boldly. Who doesn’t know how to spend resources, right?

His text arrived promptly, "Bought groceries?"

I looked at our chat history. It was laughable, almost amusing—so monotonous.

He’d ask, "Rejection?"

I’d reply, "Nope."

He’d ask, "Why?"

I’d reply, "The pups."

Daily, like clockwork. Seven hundred and sixty questions, even during the Moon Festival.

I knew it was Lainey texting, indulged by him; she had free access to his phone. Don’t think for a moment I wasn’t envious. Who wouldn’t envy a she-wolf so doted on?

Today’s message was different, probably from him. I replied, "Yes, celebrating your return."

Inside, my heart was still. Letting go of someone is so easy, as easy as taking a deep breath and moving on.

"Oh, buy me a bag to calm my nerves. I can’t act like this for nothing. I want the Hermès limited edition. If you don’t buy it, I’ll make a scene at the pack headquarters."

He wasn’t afraid of me dying, but he dreaded pack drama.

The bag costs twelve grand—a manageable amount. My life, apparently, is worth just that. If I asked for more, he’d ignore me.

That evening, picking up the pups from the pack’s private school, watching Jayden and Laila reminded me why I endured for over two years. No hardship is too great for them.

There was a knock at the den door. The bag had arrived. It’s so convenient now—one call, doorstep delivery.

Without hesitation, I called a second-hand shop.

They offered eleven thousand eight hundred for the brand-new item. I deposited the money into Mom’s account.

No asking why he didn’t return. Complaining would just show I’m immature, disrespectful of resources.

Playing with the pups for a while, Laila asked if Daddy would come home.

I said, "Daddy is very busy. All the resources we spend come from his hard work. So we must allow him to stay out at night, even miss your growing up.

"I promise, Mommy will always be here for you, always."

Before bed, I sent him a text, "Goodnight, my Alpha."

No matter whose den you’re in, be safe. Our whole pack counts on you for support and happiness.

A video popped up on my phone, showing Alpha Thomas snuggled into Lainey’s arms, cheeks flushed, eyes closed. Her face was out of view, but I knew it was her—everyone called her "Sun," yet to me, she was just Lainey, his Beta.

The first time I caught him cheating was when I received a video of them making out. To this day, I can't wrap my head around how someone can film a video and kiss passionately at the same time. There's no doubt she’s stunning—long legs, high cheekbones, sharp chin, big eyes, and lips fuller than any doll I had as a pup.

When we first met, the hostility in her gaze was unmistakable, and right then I knew she had a thing with him. I suggested he could let her go, but he looked at me like I was speaking gibberish. "What are you thinking, Luna? She hasn’t done anything wrong. I couldn’t remove her as Beta even if I wanted to," he said, his alpha tone sharp and dismissive.

Maybe she sensed my aversion and decided to provoke me. That night she sent a picture of her holding hands with him, who didn’t return to our den until morning. From that moment, her messages landed daily, and he spent more time with her than with me, his mate.

I played the classic role of the scorned Luna, complete with tears, arguments, and threats to reject the mate bond, but his disdainful looks cut through me like claws, shredding the last of my dignity. "Look at yourself in the mirror—what do you see?" he sneered, his aura heavy with contempt.

Whatever I saw was his doing.

After ten years of being his mate, this was my reward—an invitation to reject the bond a hundred times if I had a shred of pride. But I was pride-starved.

During those bleak days, I watched *The Other Woman* on repeat, seeing myself in the main character, but with pups thrown into the mix. I lacked a confidant like Cameron or a benefactor like my mother, Lucille.

Rejecting the bond would leave me with little more than a pittance and without custody of the pups. Fiction may be rich and dramatic, but reality is stark and lean.

I began living a widow-like existence, still financially tethered to his account that funded our lives.

I envied she-wolves brave enough to make drastic decisions and those who could expose unfaithful mates.

But I was the most pathetic kind.

At night, my pillow was soaked with tears, breathing felt suffocating, and despair was my constant companion.

There were moments I thought I’d lose my mind, the tears reaching my lips tasted bitter.

The mate bond can indeed be a cold, fragile thing.

I gave in, promising to take care of the pups and his mother, Oaklyn, vowing not to interfere in his life because he had brought out the rejection agreement. It outlined my ten years of staying in the pack without earning resources, and the paltry sum of two hundred thousand dollars was supposed to be a generous gift.

I wanted to ask, without me, how would he have had two pups and a stress-free pack life? But his voice was louder than mine; whatever he said was law.

Even if I couldn’t bear it, I had no choice but to endure.

After more than two years of suffering, I finally weathered the end of their honeymoon phase, their united front falling apart. Arguments became frequent, both major and minor, breaking out daily.

I waited for the right moment, ready to hold him accountable for everything, past and present.