The Unwanted Omega: Rise Of The White Wolf

I was the brilliant mind behind the Thorne Pack's defenses, yet as an Omega, I was treated worse than a servant.

My "Chosen Mate," Alpha Marcus, used my blueprints to build his reputation while I scrubbed his floors.

Everything changed the day the elevator cable snapped.

It wasn't an accident; it was a silver-coated trap set by Isabelle, the woman Marcus was parading around as his new favorite.

As I lay in the hospital, silver poison scorching my veins, the doctor begged Marcus for the antidote authorization.

Without it, my wolf would die.

But Marcus didn't even look up from his phone.

"Not now," he dismissed, stroking Isabelle’s hand. "Isabelle scraped her knee when the building shook. She's terrified. Eleanor is tough; she'll survive."

He walked away, leaving me to endure surgery without anesthesia.

I screamed until my throat bled, feeling every cut, every stitch.

In that agony, the foolish girl who loved him finally died.

When he returned days later, expecting me to beg for his attention, I didn't bow.

I stood up, my eyes glowing with a power he had never seen.

"I, Eleanor Vance, reject you."

The bond snapped with a thunderous crack.

As Marcus fell to his knees in shock, the door opened.

Julian Croft, the Alpha King, stepped in.

He looked past my ex-mate writhing on the floor, locked his golden eyes on mine, and smiled.

"I believe," he rumbled, "the lady is finished with you."

Chapter 1

Eleanor POV

Morning light filtered through the high, arched windows of the Thorne Pack house, illuminating the dust motes suspended in the stale air.

Charcoal stained my fingertips, my hand cramping from hours of gripping the pencil, but I didn’t care. The blueprints before me were perfect. It was a design for a new community center—a sanctuary to keep the pups safe and warm during the brutal winters.

I was an Omega. In the hierarchy of the pack, that meant I was the last to eat and the first to bleed.

But my mind—my architectural designs—was the one thing the pack actually used. It was my only currency in a world that priced me at zero.

The heavy oak doors swung open.

A gust of wind carrying the scent of pine and rain—*his* scent—swept into the room.

Marcus.

My heart gave that traitorous, pathetic flutter it always did.

He was the Alpha. He was power personified, with shoulders broad enough to carry the weight of the world, and eyes like storm clouds.

"Marcus," I breathed, rolling up the parchment. I hurried over to him, the bone-deep fatigue in my limbs forgotten. "You're back early from patrol. Look, I finished the designs for the nursery expansion."

He didn't stop walking. He barely glanced at me, shrugging off his muddy cloak and tossing it onto a nearby velvet armchair—furniture I would inevitably have to scrub later.

"Not now, Ellie," he muttered, running a hand through his dark, wind-swept hair. "We have guests arriving. Important ones. Don't clutter the table