I Rejected the Alpha Who Let My Mother Die

The call came at four in the afternoon.

I was scrubbing the pack house kitchen floor—on my knees, the way Sierra liked it—when my phone buzzed in my apron pocket. The healer's number flashed on the screen. My heart dropped before I even answered.

"Your mother's condition has worsened," the healer said without preamble. "The silver poisoning has reached her bloodstream. She needs the wolfsbane antidote immediately. Tonight, Vivienne. Or she won't make it through the week."

My hands went numb. "I have the money. I've been saving—"

"Then get it. Now."

The line went dead.

I stood, my knees aching from the cold tile, and pulled off my apron with shaking hands. Three months of secret work. Three months of freelance aura readings for neighboring packs who paid in cash, of catering shifts at banquets where I served wolves who wouldn't meet my eyes. Every dollar hidden, every transaction careful. It was enough. It had to be enough.

I went to my phone and opened the banking app. My fingers moved quickly, initiating the transfer to the out-of-pack supplier who had the antidote. I entered the amount. Confirmed the recipient. Hit send.

The screen froze.

Then: TRANSACTION BLOCKED. CONTACT PACK TREASURY.

I stared at the words. Read them again. My breath came shallow and fast. This couldn't be right. This was my personal account. My money. I tried again. Same message.

Panic clawed up my throat.

I grabbed my jacket and ran.

***

The pack house was busy when I burst through the side entrance. Warriors moved through the halls, voices low and casual. No one looked at me. I was used to that. I was Omega here, even if the Moon Goddess had once called me Luna.

I found Sierra in the administration office, seated behind the large oak desk that used to belong to the previous Beta. She was reviewing paperwork, her blonde hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail, her posture perfect. She looked up when I entered, her expression calm and faintly curious.

"Vivienne," she said pleasantly. "What can I do for you?"

I didn't have time for her games. "My bank transfer was blocked. I need it released. Now."

Sierra set down her pen with deliberate care. "Ah. Yes. I filed a restitution claim this morning."

My stomach turned to ice. "What?"

"Pack treasury regulations," she said smoothly, pulling a folder from the stack beside her. She opened it and turned it toward me. "You damaged pack property last month—the dining hall glassware during the visiting Alpha's dinner. The cost assessment came to exactly the amount in your personal account. Funny coincidence."

I stared at the document. The numbers were there, typed neatly. Official pack letterhead. My name at the top.

"That's a lie," I said, my voice shaking. "I didn't break anything. You know I didn't."

Sierra's smile was thin and professional. "The claim has been filed under Beta authority. If you'd like to dispute it, you're welcome to submit a formal appeal to the Alpha. But that process takes time. Weeks, usually."

Weeks.

My mother had tonight.

"Sierra, please." The word tasted like ash. "My mother is dying. She needs that money for medicine. You know this. You've known—"

"I'm sorry to hear about your mother," Sierra said, her tone unchanged. "But pack finances and personal matters are separate issues. I'm sure you understand."

She looked back down at her paperwork.

I stood there, my hands curled into fists at my sides, my wolf straining uselessly against the Alpha tone Jace had used so many times to suppress her. Around us, pack members moved through the hall. A few glanced our way. None of them stopped.

No one intervened.

Sierra had planned this. She had watched me save, waited until the moment was critical, and struck. The realization settled over me like a weight I couldn't lift.

"You're killing her," I whispered.

Sierra didn't look up. "File your appeal, Vivienne. That's the proper channel."

I turned and walked out before my wolf could do something that would get us both killed.

***

That night, I tried the mind link.

I hadn't used it in months. Jace kept it closed most of the time, a deliberate severing that left me isolated inside my own head. But this was an emergency. He would answer. He had to.

I sat on the floor of the small room I'd been assigned—barely larger than a closet—and pressed my hands to my temples. My wolf pushed forward, straining against the suppression, and I forced the connection open.

*Jace. Please. I need you.*

Silence.

*Jace, my mother is dying. Sierra blocked my funds. I need you to override it. Please. She doesn't have time.*

I felt him there, on the other end of the link. I felt his presence, solid and unmistakable. For one fragile second, I thought he would answer.

Then the connection severed.

Clean. Deliberate. Like cutting a rope.

I gasped, the rejection of the link hitting me like a physical blow. My wolf whimpered, retreating into the back of my mind. I sat there on the floor, my hands shaking, tears streaming down my face.

He was at the Pack Banquet tonight. I knew because I'd seen the schedule. Sierra would be there, standing at his side in her formal gown, positioned where a Luna should stand.

And my mother was dying.

I didn't waste any more time. I grabbed my jacket, called Barnaby to my side, and ran.

***

The forest was dark and cold. My breath came in ragged clouds as I pushed through the underbrush, Barnaby running beside me. The exile shelter was at the territory's edge, a small cabin my mother had been given after Silvercrest fell. It wasn't much. But it was hers.

I ran faster.

When I finally broke through the trees and saw the cabin, I knew.

The lights were off. The door was slightly open. The air was too still.

I walked forward on numb legs. Pushed the door wider. Stepped inside.

My mother lay on the narrow bed, her hands folded across her chest. Her face was peaceful. Too peaceful.

She was already gone.

I don't know how long I stood there. Time stopped meaning anything. Eventually, my legs gave out, and I sank to my knees beside the bed. I reached for her hand. It was cold.

Barnaby pressed against my side, whining softly.

I stayed there until dawn. The bond I had believed in—the sacred promise the Moon Goddess had given me—burned silently to ash inside my chest.

And when the sun finally rose, I knew exactly what I was going to do.