Unwanted By The Alpha: The Secret Royal Princess

I woke up in agony after saving my husband from an explosion, only to find him standing over my hospital bed with a death sentence.

Alpha Julius didn't care that I was bleeding internally. He only cared that his new "Fated Mate," Kenzie, needed a bone marrow transplant.

And I was the match.

When I refused, Julius didn't hesitate. He used the Alpha Command to paralyze my body, forcing me to lie still while doctors drilled into my hip.

He threatened to throw our five-year-old daughter, Ava, to the feral Rogues if I didn't sign over my assets and accept his rejection.

"If you die, the pack will find a use for the girl," he said coldly.

He took my marrow, stole my life's work, and left me for dead in a supply closet, convinced I was just a weak human with no leverage.

He thought he had won. He thought he had stripped me of everything.

But Julius made one fatal mistake. He didn't know who I really was.

As he walked away to celebrate with his mistress, I smashed through the mental barriers I had kept up for a decade.

I reached out across the void to the one man who could burn this pack to ash.

"Father," I screamed silently into the mind-link. "He's killing me."

The Alpha King’s voice thundered back in my skull.

Julius thought he had crushed a human. He had no idea he just woke up the White Wolf.

Chapter 1

Florence POV:

Pain didn't just wake me; it resurrected me.

It started in my hip, a dull, drilling ache where bone met marrow, then radiated outward until my entire body felt like a bruised peach. The smell of antiseptic stung my nose, failing to mask the underlying scent of burnt flesh and old blood that clung to the hospital walls.

I tried to sit up, but a wave of agony crashed over me. The explosion at the pack's warehouse had been meant for Julius. I had pushed him out of the way. Again.

Just like ten years ago.

"Mommy?"

The small, terrified whisper came from the corner of the room. I froze. Ignoring the screaming nerves in my back, I forced my head to turn.

Ava. My five-year-old daughter. She was curled up in a plastic chair, hugging her knees, her eyes wide and red-rimmed. She shouldn't be here. She was supposed to be hidden at the safe house on the edge of the territory.

"Ava," I rasped, panic spiking my heart rate. "Baby, come here."

Before she could move, the door slammed open.

The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. The air suddenly reeked of ozone and storm clouds—the scent of Alpha Julius Carroll.

"You're awake," he said. His voice was devoid of warmth. It was the tone one used for a broken appliance.

"Julius," I managed to say. "Why is Ava here? She's not safe—"

"The pack is fine," he snapped, cutting me off. "But Kenzie isn't."