Rejecting My Cruel Alpha For His Rival

Elara Thorne POV:

The plastic stick felt impossibly heavy on the cool marble of the bathroom counter. My hands trembled as I stared at it, my breath held tight in my chest. Three minutes. It had only been three minutes, but it felt like an eternity.

In my mind, my wolf, Lyra, paced relentlessly. Her anxiety was a frantic beat against my own heart, a low whine of both desperate hope and suffocating fear.

Then, it happened. A second pink line, faint at first, bloomed into existence next to the first. It was stark, clear, and undeniable against the white plastic.

Pregnant.

The word was a silent explosion in my mind. A wave of pure, unadulterated joy crashed over me, so potent it stole the air from my lungs and brought tears to my eyes. After two years of aching emptiness since we lost our first pup, this was more than a new life. It was a resurrection. It was the single, flickering flame of hope I had been shielding against a relentless, soul-crushing wind. This baby was my salvation.

I had to tell him. I had to tell Ryker. The thing we have been extremely looking forward to has arrived. This tiny life could be the thread that stitched the tattered pieces of our mate bond back together.

But as I gripped the edge of the sink, a dizzy spell washed over me, the black spots dancing in my vision a familiar, unwelcome guest. I looked at my reflection in the mirror. My silver-blonde hair seemed to have lost its luster, and my violet eyes were ringed with exhaustion. My face was too pale, almost translucent. This wasn't just morning sickness. This was the mate bond, fractured and bleeding my life force away.

*Our time is running out, Elara,* Lyra whimpered, her earlier anxiety now tinged with a deep, mournful sadness. *This pup must be born before the Moon Goddess calls us home.*

I took a deep, shuddering breath, pushing the fear down. This baby wasn't a sign of the end; it was the reason to fight for a new beginning. I would use this miracle to fix us.

Clutching the pregnancy test like a sacred relic, I walked out of our bedroom. The Packhouse was silent, the thick carpets muffling my footsteps. Every beat of my own heart sounded like a drum in the stillness as I made my way toward Ryker’s study.

The heavy oak door was slightly ajar. I could hear his voice from within, a low, resonant baritone that still made my insides hum. But the tone… it was one I hadn't heard directed at me in years. It was soft, laced with a tenderness that was a physical ache in my chest.

Curiosity, a stupid, self-destructive impulse, made me pause. I peered through the narrow gap.

The sight that greeted me shattered my world into a million pieces. Ryker was on the leather sofa, and curled into his side, looking up at him with