I Reject You, Alpha

"Sign this."

A clipboard hit the metal tray next to my bed with a sharp clatter.

I opened my eyes against the harsh fluorescent lights of the pack clinic. My skull throbbed beneath thick layers of medical gauze. Two days trapped in a dark, silent coma, and these were the first words my mate spoke to me.

"The council needs your signature to validate the trial," Damian said. He tapped a silver pen against the plastic board, his posture rigid.

Lucas stood beside him. The ten-year-old jabbed his thumbs into a handheld gaming console, not bothering to glance at my bruised face.

I looked at the two of them. A bitter, reckless impulse seized my chest.

"Who are you?" I asked, keeping my voice entirely flat.

Lucas paused his game. His head snapped up, and a sudden, bright gleam ignited in his dark eyes.

"You don't remember us?" the boy asked eagerly.

"No," I whispered.

"You're just a healer for the Blackwood pack," Lucas declared, stepping closer to the mattress. "I came to check on you with my dad. And my mom, Vanessa."

The clinic door swung open.

Vanessa strolled into the room. Draped elegantly over her shoulders was the silver-grey winter festival shawl I had spent three months weaving by hand for the upcoming ceremonies.

Lucas immediately reached out and grabbed her fingers.

Damian did not flinch. He didn't correct our son's outrageous lie. He simply crossed his arms and studied my face, his gaze cold and calculating, waiting to see if my memory loss was genuine.

The silence stretched out, heavy and revealing. They didn't mourn my injuries. They saw a convenient opportunity to erase me from their lives.

I stopped playing the game.

"Damian Blackwood. Lucas Blackwood. Vanessa Reed," I stated, my tone sharp enough to cut glass.

Lucas’s face flushed a deep, ugly red. He snatched his hand away from Vanessa and glared at me.

"You lied to us!" the boy yelled. "You're faking it!"

"A sick test, Evie?" Damian scowled. He tossed the pen onto the blanket. "Playing mind games with your family after a medical emergency?"

Dr. Mara stood quietly in the corner by the heart monitor. Her eyes darted downward. My fingernails had pierced the skin of my palms, drawing tiny drops of crimson, but I didn't loosen my grip.

"I'll sign your papers," I told Damian.

I grabbed the pen, scribbled my name on the dotted line, and shoved the clipboard off the bed. It clattered onto the linoleum tiles.

An hour later, the pack transport dropped us at the Alpha residence.

I walked through the heavy front doors and turned toward the East Wing. A row of unfamiliar leather luggage blocked the hallway.

"Vanessa is staying in the guest suite," Damian announced from behind me. "Her leg injury from the border ambush requires Luna-level care. It’s practical."

I turned my attention to the wall above the stone fireplace. The large family portrait we took last summer was missing. A blank, rectangular shadow marked the wallpaper where it used to hang.

"Where are my photos?" I asked.

"I had the staff move them to storage," Lucas answered, walking past me without stopping. "They clashed with the new winter decorations."

I followed them into the dining room. The long mahogany table was already set for dinner, the silver plates gleaming under the chandelier.

Lucas marched to the opposite end of the table and pulled out the ornate chair—my chair.

"Sit here, Vanessa," he offered, flashing her a wide grin.

Vanessa offered a modest, hesitant smile and sat down in the Luna’s seat. "Thank you, little Alpha. You are too sweet."

I stood in the doorway. I didn't yell. I didn't demand my seat back. I simply pulled out a generic wooden side chair and sat down near the middle.

Chief Elder Gideon sat to Damian’s right, carving a piece of roasted meat with precise, forceful cuts.

"The council has reached a decision regarding the winter patrols," Gideon said, pointing his fork toward Damian. "With Evie's wolf gone, she cannot fulfill her duties. Vanessa will act as proxy Luna."

Damian took a sip of water. "It is a temporary arrangement. She will oversee the border checks and manage Lucas's heir training until Evie recovers."

"I am honored to serve the Blackwoods," Vanessa murmured, lowering her eyelashes.

She turned her head toward me, resting a hand on her bandaged thigh.

"Speaking of my service," Vanessa continued, her voice coated in false sweetness. "My leg is aching terribly tonight, Evie. Could you share a bit of your healing magic? Just to ease the pain."

Damian looked at me expectantly. "Go ahead, Evie. Fix her up so she can start patrols tomorrow."

I placed my fork down on the porcelain plate. The metallic clink rang loudly in the quiet room.

"No," I said.

Damian’s brow furrowed. "What do you mean, no? It takes two seconds."

"I am not healing her," I replied, meeting his stare directly. "Not today. Not tomorrow. Never again."

"Don't be petty," Damian snapped, leaning forward over the table. "She is doing your job for you."

"Then she can heal her own wounds."

I closed my eyes and reached deep into my chest. For twelve years, my healing energy had flowed freely through the pack link, a warm undercurrent that comforted every wolf under Damian’s command.

I visualized the glowing silver threads connecting me to the rest of the pack.

I grabbed them all. And I severed them.

A collective gasp echoed around the dining room. Gideon dropped his knife. Lucas shivered violently, wrapping his arms around his own torso.

The sudden absence of my magic hit them like a plunge into a frozen lake.

Damian shot up from his chair. His hand flew to his chest, his fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt. A harsh grunt escaped his lips.

"What did you do?" Damian demanded, his face paling as he rubbed his sternum.

"I withdrew my magic," I answered calmly, standing up from my side chair. "If I am too weak to be your Luna, I am too weak to be your healer."

Damian glared at me, his chest heaving. He rubbed the spot over his heart again, a look of profound confusion crossing his harsh features.

He thought it was just a physical reaction to the magic shifting.

He didn't realize the truth.

The tearing sensation in his chest wasn't just my magic retreating. It was the twelve-year Mate Bond, and I was actively shutting it down, thread by thread.

I turned my back on my husband and walked out of the dining room.

"Evie, get back here!" Damian roared.

I ignored him, keeping my pace steady as I headed for the stairs. Let Vanessa have the seat. Let her have the title. I had a much bigger problem to solve.

My wolf was fading, and if I didn't find out why, the Mate Bond wouldn't be the only thing dying tonight. I reached my bedroom and locked the door behind me, only to find a strange, sealed envelope resting on my pillow.

The wax seal bore a crest I hadn't seen in over a decade.