After My Alpha Rejected Me for His Mistress

Morning light filtered through the small window of my makeshift room, illuminating the tear tracks that had dried on my face overnight. I hadn't slept. How could I, when every breath sent fresh waves of agony through my severed mate bond?

The lock clicked. I tensed, expecting another pack member to come harass me.

Instead, Christian strode in, his presence filling the tiny space. Behind him followed Viviana, Blake, and Melanie—my family, now turned executioners.

"You have five minutes to get out," Christian announced, his voice devoid of the warmth it once held when he spoke my name. "Pack security will escort you to the gates."

I rose slowly, my body still weak from the rejection. "Thirty years, Christian. Thirty years I gave you."

"And I took twenty-eight of them," he replied coldly. "You've been nothing but a drain on this pack for the last two."

Viviana stepped forward, her perfectly manicured hand resting on Christian's arm. "Grace, darling, you really should have seen this coming. A woman your age..." She let the implication hang in the air.

Blake's eyes narrowed. "Mother, just hand over the Luna ring and go. Stop making this harder than it needs to be."

"The ring?" I touched my finger where the silver band had rested for three decades.

"It belongs to the Luna of this pack," Christian said, extending his hand. "And that's no longer you."

I slipped the ring off, the metal warm from decades of wear. It clinked as I placed it in his palm.

"Your scent has faded so much," Melanie said with a sniff. "I can barely smell you anymore. No wonder Father found someone else."

"Enough," Christian snapped, though not in my defense. "Security will be here in three minutes. Be ready."

They turned to leave, but Christian paused at the doorway. "Oh, and Grace? Don't come back. You're no longer welcome in any Silverfang territory."

The door slammed behind them.

I gathered the few personal items I'd managed to salvage—a photo of my parents, a small jewelry box containing my mother's earrings, and the clothes on my back.

Two minutes later, I stood in the grand foyer, waiting for the security team that would escort me off the property like a common rogue.

"Look at her," Viviana whispered loudly enough for me to hear. "So pathetic."

Blake laughed. "At least we won't have to pretend to care anymore."

Their words should have hurt, but something was changing inside me. A strange warmth spreading through my chest, different from the pain of rejection.

Then it happened.

The massive front doors burst open.

Mylo stood there, his tall frame flanked by ten elite Lycan warriors in black tactical gear.

"Grace Simmons?" he asked formally, though his eyes sparkled with triumph.

"Yes?" My voice sounded stronger than it had in years.

"Your transportation is waiting."

Behind him, through the open doors, I could see them—ten gleaming black Rolls-Royces lined up on the circular driveway, each with tinted windows and polished chrome that caught the morning sun.

"What is this?" Christian demanded, stepping forward.

Mylo ignored him completely. "Ms. Simmons, please."

I walked past my former family, past the pack members who had watched my humiliation in silence. No one dared stop me.

"Grace!" Christian called after me. "What's going on?"

I didn't answer. I didn't look back.

The lead Rolls-Royce's door opened. A driver in a crisp black suit nodded respectfully. "Ms. Simmons."

I slid into the leather interior, the door closing behind me with a solid thunk.

Through the window, I could see Christian's face contorting with confusion. Blake and Melanie stood frozen. Viviana clutched her baby tighter.

The car pulled away, followed by nine others in perfect formation.

As we drove through the gates of the Silverfang territory, something inside me shifted. The last toxic threads connecting me to my old life snapped.

Heat flooded my veins.

"Grace?" Mylo's voice came through the speaker. "Are you alright?"

I couldn't answer. My skin tingled as if electricity coursed beneath it. My reflection in the window showed eyes glowing silver.

"My wolf," I whispered.

For the first time in decades, I felt her stirring, stretching, awakening.

She rose within me like a phoenix from ashes, her power surging through every cell.

"Yes," Mylo said softly. "She's coming back."

The car windows rolled down slightly as we accelerated onto the highway. Wind rushed in, carrying away the stale air of my old life.

In its place came something new—my scent. Winter roses and expensive perfume, intoxicating and powerful.

I closed my eyes and let my wolf's aura unfurl around me like wings of silver light.

She was here. And she was furious.