My Alpha Begged Me Back After Calling Me Unworthy

My phone started buzzing before we even made it home.

Paislee was asleep in the backseat, her head resting against the window. Leonidas drove with one hand on the wheel, the other holding mine. The city lights blurred past, but I couldn't focus on anything except the constant vibration against my thigh.

I pulled out my phone. The screen lit up with notification after notification, each one making my stomach tighten.

@PackWatch: BREAKING - Lycan attacks Alpha Kendrick in neutral territory!

@WolfNews: The Butcher Witch strikes again - feral Omega assaults celebrity Alpha

@AngelinaScott: I'm shaking. We went to offer help and she attacked us with a KNIFE. #ButcherWitch #SaveOurAlphas

The video was everywhere. Angelina's edited version showed Leonidas grabbing Kendrick's wrist, but cut out the part where Kendrick had raised his hand toward Paislee. It showed me holding my bloody knife, but not Kendrick throwing money at my feet. The audio was distorted, making Leonidas's words sound like threats instead of warnings.

The comments were worse.

"Rogues like her should be put down."

"That poor Alpha was just trying to help."

"Someone needs to take that pup away from her before she hurts the kid too."

My hands started shaking. The phone slipped from my grip.

"Elowyn." Leonidas's voice was steady. He pulled the car over, turning to face me. "Breathe."

"They're saying—" My throat closed. "Paislee. They're talking about taking Paislee."

"No one is taking our daughter." He reached over, cupping my face in his hands. "Look at me."

I met his eyes. Gold still flickered in their depths.

"I sent the unedited security footage to the Council of Alphas two hours ago," he said. "Every Elder, every pack leader in the region has seen the truth. Kendrick raising his hand to a child. Angelina's lies. All of it."

"But the video—"

"Will be irrelevant by morning." His thumb brushed my cheek. "Trust me."

I wanted to. But the comments kept scrolling through my mind, each one a knife twisting deeper.

We got home and I carried Paislee to bed, tucking her in with trembling hands. She stirred, mumbling something about smooth stones, then settled back into sleep. I stood there watching her breathe, my wolf pacing anxiously beneath my skin.

What if they came for her? What if Kendrick used this to—

"Come here." Leonidas stood in the doorway, his hand extended.

I followed him to our room. He pulled out his tablet, opening a secure message thread. The Council's official seal glowed at the top.

"Read," he said quietly.

I scrolled through the messages. Elder Samuel Hayes had sent a formal reprimand to the Sunfire Pack. Three other Alphas had withdrawn their support from Kendrick publicly. The unedited footage was attached to every message, time-stamped and verified.

The last message was from Elder Hayes himself: "The Lycan King acted with appropriate authority. The female and child were under his protection. Any further harassment will result in permanent sanctions."

"They know," I whispered.

"They know." Leonidas pulled me against his chest. "And by tomorrow, everyone else will too."

But sleep didn't come easy that night.

---

The next morning, I was prepping a rack of lamb when Marcus burst into the kitchen, his phone in hand.

"Have you seen the pack networks?" he asked, breathless.

I shook my head. I'd turned off my notifications, unable to face more hate.

"Kendrick's pack is imploding." Marcus pulled up a news feed. "His suppliers cut him off. No meat deliveries, no grain shipments, nothing. His Beta just posted that they're looking for 'alternative partnerships.'"

My knife stilled. "What?"

"It gets better." Marcus scrolled down. "Alpha Benson from the Clearwater Pack just announced a partnership with Sunfire. They're hosting some massive event—the 'Gala of the Century.' Supposed to prove Kendrick's pack is still solvent."

I set down my knife, wiping my hands on my apron. Something about this felt wrong. Too convenient.

"What kind of event?"

"A Pack Run feast. But get this—" Marcus's eyes gleamed. "The menu includes Moon-Blessed Stag."

My blood went cold. Moon-Blessed Stag was one of the rarest spiritual beasts, its meat so potent it could kill if not prepared correctly. The toxins had to be extracted with precision, the cuts made at exact angles to preserve the spiritual energy while removing the poison.

Only a handful of people in the world could butcher it safely.

"They tried a practice run yesterday," Marcus continued. "Kendrick's pack butchers. Three warriors are in the hospital with spiritual poisoning."

I turned back to my lamb, but my hands had steadied. "Then they're idiots."

"Or desperate." Marcus leaned against the counter. "Word is, Kendrick's looking for The Blade."

The Blade. My anonymous reputation in the spiritual beast community. The master butcher whose identity no one knew.

I met Marcus's eyes, and he grinned.

"This is going to be fun," he said.

Maybe it was. Maybe Kendrick had just handed me the perfect stage for my vindication.

Or maybe he'd just signed his own death warrant.