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I Rejected the Alpha Who Killed Me
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I Rejected the Alpha Who Killed Me Novel Cover

I Rejected the Alpha Who Killed Me

Five years ago, I tore my inner wolf out of my soul to save Alpha Floyd's life. In return, he treated me like a "Wolfless freak" and made me a slave in my own pack. To please his mistress, he pressed glowing coals laced with silver directly into my palms, burning the hands that had once woven protection spells for him. Then, he watched with cold indifference as I drowned in the freezing Moon Pool, sneering that I was just "being dramatic." It wasn't until the autopsy that he saw the surgical scars on my heart. He finally realized I hadn't lost my wolf—I had given it to him. Consumed by madness and guilt, Floyd sacrificed his own soul in the Silver Dungeon, begging the Goddess to turn back time. He wanted a second chance to worship me. When I opened my eyes, I was eighteen again, back at the Academy. Floyd stood before me, his eyes ancient and filled with tears. "I remember everything," he choked out, reaching for me with a trembling hand. "I came back for you, my Luna." I looked at the man who had murdered me in the name of love. "You think suicide buys forgiveness?" I stepped back, grabbing the hand of the quiet Beta student he used to despise. "I reject you, Floyd Meyers." "And this time, I'm choosing the man who would never let me burn."
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Chapter 4

Elizebeth POV:

"No anesthesia," the Oracle rasped from the corner. A shriveled hag Jaylah kept on payroll. "Chemicals taint the magic."

Floyd nodded. "Do it."

The nurse approached. The needle was thick, designed for rapid extraction. The tip was dull gray.

Silver-coated alloy. To keep the wound from healing too fast.

"No," I gasped. "Not silver."

The needle pierced my skin.

A scream tore from my throat. It felt like liquid fire injected directly into the marrow. The silver seared the entry point, cauterizing and burning simultaneously.

My body convulsed against the straps.

"Hold her still!" Floyd barked.

He didn't hold my hand. He pinned my shoulder, his weight crushing me into the mattress so they could drain me dry.

I watched the bag fill. Crimson. My life.

The room spun. Black spots danced in my vision. My heart fluttered—a bird dying in a cage.

"That's enough," the Healer said, his voice underwater. "She's going into shock."

"Is Mara stable?" Floyd asked.

"Yes."

Floyd released me instantly. He didn't check the wound. He turned his back and went to comfort Jaylah, releasing his pheromones—cedar and musk.

That scent was biologically mine. And he was using it to soothe the woman who wanted me dead.

The nurse unstrapped me. "You can go," she muttered, avoiding my eyes.

I tried to sit up. The world tilted. I hit the floor.

"Get up," Floyd said, annoyed. "Stop acting."

I couldn't.

"She's cluttering the room," Jaylah complained.

Floyd looked at me with pure disgust. "Guard. Take her to the old isolation ward. Don't let her die in the hallway; it looks bad for the image."

Two warriors dragged me out.

They threw me into a disused cell at the end of the dark wing. It smelled of rust and old fear.

I lay on the dusty mattress, shivering. The silver burn in my arm throbbed.

In the silence, something shifted.

For five years, I had loved him. But as the cold seeped into my bones, that love didn't fade. It curdled.

I didn't love Floyd Meyers anymore. I hated him.

Continue to next part

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