Mistaken for a Rogue: The Alpha's True Heir

I was eight years old when my father, Alpha Derek, raided the rogue bunker to save my mother. I thought I was finally safe. But because I reeked of the wolfsbane chemicals used to hide my scent, my mother looked at me with pure disgust. "Get that thing away from me! It smells like him!" she shrieked. To protect his traumatized mate, my father didn't check my DNA. He threw me into the garage to sleep on oily rags. For months, I was the true Alpha's daughter, yet I was forced to eat dog food while they pampered a fake orphan named Kylie in my place. When Kylie ordered the guard dog to tear my arm open, my mother stood at the window. Instead of saving me, she let the maid close the curtains so she wouldn't have to see the blood. I only became useful when my father got into a critical car crash. They drained my rare "Moon Blood" to save his life, then immediately signed papers to ship me off to a labor camp to get rid of the "stain" on their family. They thought I was a dirty rogue. They didn't know the chemical smell was masking the rarest bloodline in a century. I am not a rogue. I am a White Wolf. And just as my grandfather discovers the DNA results and falls to his knees in regret, the most powerful pack in the North has already arrived to claim me as their queen. Chapter 1 Derek POV: Blood and rain. That was the only scent in the air tonight. My wolf, a massive black beast within my soul, was pacing restlessly, clawing at the edges of my mind. We were deep in the Appalachian Mountains, raiding a Rogue nest. Rogues were wolves without a pack, traitors and criminals who had lost their humanity. And eight years ago, they had taken my pregnant mate. "Alpha, the perimeter is clear," my Gamma reported through the Mind-Link, his voice echoing directly in my head. "Find her," I growled, my voice rough. "Leave no Rogue alive." We breached the rusted iron door of the bunker. The stench hit me instantly-a mix of rotting meat, unwashed bodies, and fear. My warriors moved like shadows, lethal and efficient. I didn't care about the Rogues. I only cared about Nora. I found her in the deepest cell. She was curled in a corner, her once-golden hair matted with filth. "Nora?" I whispered. She flinched, her blue eyes wide with terror. Then, recognition dawned. "Derek!" She screamed my name and launched herself into my arms. I caught her, burying my face in her neck. She smelled of fear and damp earth, but underneath, she was still my Luna. My mate. I have you, Nora. You are safe, I projected the thought into her mind, using the soothing tone of the Alpha. She sobbed, clinging to me. But then, something tugged at her ragged shirt. I looked down. A small, emaciated child stood there. She couldn't have been more than eight years old. Her skin was gray with grime, and her hair was a tangled mess of mud. But it was the smell that made my stomach turn. She reeked. It wasn't just the smell of dirt. It was a chemical assault on the senses-acrid and burning, like industrial solvent mixed with necrotic flesh. It was the scent of a Rogue who had gone feral, but amplified. It smelled of concentrated Wolfsbane, a poison to our kind, designed to mask everything else. The child reached out a trembling hand toward Nora. "M-Mama?" Nora stiffened in my arms. Her nose twitched, inhaling that foul odor. Her eyes dilated, the trauma of her captivity hijacking her brain. To a wolf, scent is identity, and this child didn't smell like family. She smelled like the cage. She smelled like the torture. "No!" Nora shrieked, shoving the child away. "Get away! It smells like them! It smells like him!" The child fell back onto the concrete floor, her eyes wide with confusion. I snarled, my instinct to protect my mate overriding everything else. I stepped between Nora and the filthy creature. The child looked at me, her eyes a strange, shifting violet color, but I saw only a threat to my Luna's sanity. "Get that thing out of here," I commanded my warriors. My voice was low, laced with the Alpha's authority that compelled obedience. "It is upsetting your Luna." "But Alpha," a young warrior hesitated, looking at the small girl. "She called her-" "I said get it out!" I roared. The power of my voice made the walls vibrate. Two warriors grabbed the girl by her thin arms. She didn't scream. She just looked at me, and then at Nora, who was burying her face in my chest, sobbing hysterically. We walked out of the bunker and into the waiting convoy of SUVs. I placed Nora gently in the back seat of my armored Cadillac. "Is it gone?" she whimpered. "The smell... it's everywhere." "It's being handled," I promised, kissing her forehead. Through the rearview mirror, I saw the warriors tossing the girl into the trunk area of the trailing SUV, treating her like contaminated cargo. Eliza POV: The world was dark and smelled of gasoline. I was curled up in the back of a big car, surrounded by spare tires and tool kits. My stomach churned. I had never been in a car before. The motion made me dizzy. I wanted to vomit. I tried to hold it in, but the car went over a big bump, and my empty stomach rebelled. I retched, spitting up bile onto the carpet. Immediately, the car stopped. The driver, a big man with a scar, slammed his hand on the steering wheel. Alpha, the girl is sick. She's messing up the interior, the driver said. I couldn't hear him speak, but I felt the air grow heavy. Suddenly, a crushing weight slammed into my shoulders. It felt like gravity had increased tenfold. I gasped, unable to breathe. It was the Alpha Aura. I knew what it was because the bad man, Burt, used to talk about how Alphas could crush you with just their presence. The man in the front car-my father?-was doing this. He was punishing me for being sick. I curled into a tighter ball, shaking. I'm sorry, I thought, though I didn't know how to send the words. Please stop. The pressure lifted just enough for me to breathe, but the fear remained. Hours later, the cars stopped. The trunk opened, and I was blinded by bright lights. We were in front of a castle. It was huge, made of stone and glass. I scrambled out, my legs wobbling. I saw my mother standing by the front door. She looked clean now, wrapped in a soft blanket. Next to her stood a girl about my age. She was wearing a pink dress with lace. She had shiny blonde hair and held a teddy bear. "Oh, my poor baby," a woman-my grandmother, Dionne-cooed, but she wasn't looking at me. She was hugging the girl in pink. "This is Kylie," a man in a white coat said. He was the Pack Doctor. "Her parents were Gamma unit warriors. They held the line so we could breach the bunker to save you, Alpha. They died protecting the rescue route. She has no one left." Nora's face softened, gratitude warring with grief. She knelt down and hugged Kylie, needing something pure to hold onto. "You smell like sunshine," Nora whispered, inhaling deeply. "And vanilla." I took a step forward, hoping my mother would look at me. "Mama?" Nora's head snapped up. The moment she caught my scent, her face twisted in disgust. It was the same look she gave the rats in the bunker. "Dionne," Nora choked out. "Keep that... that thing away from me. The smell makes me want to retch." My grandmother, a tall woman with cold eyes, looked down at me. Her lip curled. "You are an Omega runt," she spat. In our world, Omegas are the lowest rank, usually servants or weaklings. "You do not belong at the front door. You are polluting the air." She pointed a manicured finger toward the side of the house, where the shadows were deep. "Take her to the servants' entrance," Dionne ordered a maid. "And scrub her until her skin is raw. If she still smells like a Rogue, she sleeps in the kennel." The maid grabbed my wrist. Her grip was hard. I looked back at my parents. My father had his arm around Nora and the girl in pink, leading them into the warmth of the golden light. The heavy oak doors slammed shut, leaving me in the cold.