Beta Rejects His Royal Mate

The first document I released was a simple ledger—one of many I'd kept meticulously over the years. It detailed the hunting territories I'd secured for Cristian when he was still a starving Omega, too weak to claim his own. The official seal of the Lycan Royal Guard gleamed at the bottom of each page.

"These records will be distributed to all pack leaders," I informed Commander Thorne, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me. "I want them to understand exactly what their precious Beta received."

The Commander's weathered face showed no emotion as he accepted the documents. "Your Highness, are you certain this is the path you wish to take?"

"I am," I replied, adjusting the pendant at my throat—my grandmother's gift. "Justice demands transparency."

Within hours, the mind-links between packs buzzed with activity. I could almost feel the shock rippling through the werewolf community as Alpha after Alpha received the evidence.

"Princess Rosemary," Alpha Marcus's Beta approached me with lowered eyes. "The Alpha requests your presence at tomorrow's council meeting."

I nodded curtly. "I'll be there."

---

The warrior training records went out next—detailed accounts of every lesson, every weapon, every technique I'd arranged for Cristian. The master trainers had been surprised when I'd first approached them about secretly training an unknown Omega, but my royal status had ensured their cooperation.

"Your Highness," one of the trainers had asked, "why not simply introduce him as your protégé?"

"Because I wanted him to earn his place through merit," I'd replied. "Not through association with me."

Now, as those same records circulated through the pack networks, I watched from the shadows as Cristian's carefully constructed narrative began to crumble.

"He didn't earn anything," I heard a warrior mutter to his companion at the pack's training grounds. "Everything was handed to him by the Princess."

"Still calling her 'Nellie' though," his friend snorted. "As if she's some nobody."

---

The most devastating evidence came in the form of testimonies from the Obsidian Claw Alpha himself. I'd arranged Cristian's introduction to Marcus years ago, using my royal connections to secure him a chance when no other pack would take him.

"I remember when Princess Rosemary first approached me about the Omega," Marcus stated publicly at the council meeting. "She asked me to give him a fair chance, nothing more."

The Alpha's eyes flickered toward Cristian, who sat rigidly at the far end of the table. "I had no idea he would rise so quickly. Nor did I know he would forget who gave him his start."

---

The weapons and armor I'd gifted Cristian over the years were next—each piece carefully documented with dates and circumstances. The debt payments I'd made to keep him from expulsion when he'd first joined the pack. The medical expenses I'd covered when he was injured in training.

"He called her weak," a female Delta whispered loudly enough for me to hear as I passed through the pack grounds. "Look at all she did for him."

---

The pack run should have been a simple training exercise. Instead, it became a public humiliation for Cristian as warrior after warrior deliberately disobeyed his commands.

"Form up!" he shouted, his Beta authority supposed to compel obedience.

No one moved.

"I said form up!" His voice cracked with frustration.

One of the senior warriors—a Gamma who'd served the pack for decades—stepped forward. "With respect, Beta, I cannot follow orders from someone who dishonored their benefactor."

Others nodded in agreement, their expressions hardening as they turned away from Cristian.

---

At the formal pack dinner that evening, I watched from the head table as Cristian and Tiana were escorted—not to their usual places of honor—but to the lowest table, reserved for visiting Omegas and minor pack members.

"This is an insult!" Tiana hissed as she took her seat, her face flushed with anger.

"It's politics," Cristian muttered back, but his eyes darted nervously around the room.

One by one, representatives from allied packs approached Alpha Marcus, their messages clear: "Until this matter is resolved, we must withdraw our trade agreements."

---

Elena Blackwood stood at the edge of the pack grounds, her weathered face drawn with sorrow as she watched her son's world collapse around him.

"Cristian," she called softly as he passed.

He turned, hope briefly lighting his eyes. "Mother, tell them this isn't true."

But Elena only shook her head, disappointment etched in every line of her face. "I can't lie for you anymore, son."

As she turned away, I saw something break inside Cristian—something far more fundamental than his Beta status or his alliance with Tiana.

"Mother!" he called after her, but she didn't look back.

I watched as he stood alone in the center of the pack grounds, suddenly understanding that his mother's rejection cut deeper than any royal decree.

The whispers around him grew louder, more contemptuous with each passing day.

"The Beta who forgot his debts."

"The man who bit the hand that fed him."

"The Omega who never deserved to rise."

And as I turned to leave, I caught a glimpse of something in Cristian's eyes I'd never seen before—fear.