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My Alpha Begged Me Back Novel Cover

My Alpha Begged Me Back

The crystal flutes trembled on the silver tray as I navigated the crowded ballroom. The air inside the Silverclaw Pack House was thick with the scent of pine, roasted venison, and the overpowering, cloying perfume of expensive wolves. It was the Winter Solstice, the longest night of the year, and while the rest of the pack celebrated in velvet and silk, I wore the rough, gray cotton of a servant. "More champagne, Omega," a Gamma commanded, not even bothering to look at my face. "Yes, sir," I whispered, keeping my head lowered. Seven years. It had been seven years since Gideon rejected our mate bond, seven years since I was demoted from a fated mate to a glorified maid. My hands, red and chapped from scrubbing floors, tightened around the tray. I moved toward the VIP section, where the Alpha and his chosen Luna held court. Gideon stood by the fireplace, a glass of whiskey in his hand.
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Chapter 3

The Grand Hotel rose against the night sky like a monolith of glass and gold, a neutral ground where the most powerful packs in the country gathered to trade lies and shake hands. The air conditioning inside was set to a chill that would make a human shiver, but to a wolf, it just smelled like recycled air and too much money.

I smoothed the silk of my high-necked, charcoal gown. It flowed over my body like liquid shadow, a stark contrast to the grey rags I had worn for seven years. Over my face, a sheer black veil hung from a silver circlet, obscuring my features but leaving my vision clear. I didn't smell like Maia Brooks, the wolfless Omega. I didn't smell like the servant who scrubbed floors until her knuckles bled. Thanks to the herbal paste Dr. Helena had ground into my pulse points, I smelled only of cold rain and sharpened steel.

"Chin up," Rosemary murmured beside me, her voice barely audible over the hum of the lobby. "You aren't the help anymore. You're the nightmare they didn't see coming."

I straightened my spine, feeling the phantom weight of my white wolf settle over my shoulders. "I'm ready."

Just as we reached the center of the lobby, the revolving doors spun, admitting a gust of winter air and the scent I hated most in the world. Pine and rot.

The Silverclaw delegation had arrived.

Time seemed to slow. I watched Gideon step out of the lead black SUV. He looked... haunted. The arrogance that used to define his posture was gone, replaced by a slump in his shoulders. Dark circles bruised the skin beneath his eyes, and his suit, though expensive, hung slightly loose on his frame. He looked like a man who hadn't slept since the Winter Solstice.

Beside him, Athena exited with the grace of a practiced actress. She wore a tight fitting cream dress that accentuated the slight, deliberate curve of her stomach. She rested a hand on it protectively, smiling at the cameras flashing near the entrance. A fake pregnancy to secure a stolen throne. The sight of it made my claws itch beneath my skin.

They were flanked by their entourage, led by Marcus Reed, the Silverclaw Beta. He was a brute of a man, wide as a door and twice as thick-headed. He saw Rosemary and me standing near the reception desk—the prime spot—and his face twisted into a sneer.

He didn't recognize Rosemary immediately; she had cleaned up well, trading her rogue leathers for a tailored pantsuit that screamed authority. And he certainly didn't recognize me.

"Move it," Marcus barked, striding toward us with the entitlement of a man who had never been told 'no'. "The Silverclaw Alpha requires this check-in counter. Take your little group to the back of the line."

Rosemary didn't flinch. She just raised an eyebrow, waiting.

I stepped forward, placing myself between the Beta and my Alpha. The movement was fluid, predatory. Marcus blinked, surprised that a woman in a veil would dare block his path.

"I said move," Marcus growled, stepping into my personal space. "Or I'll move you myself."

I looked up at him through the sheer fabric of my veil. I remembered him kicking my bucket of soapy water over just to watch me clean it up again. I remembered him laughing when Athena mocked me.

I didn't shout. I didn't scream. I simply let the White Wolf rise in my throat, channeling every ounce of the power that had shattered my bones and remade me.

"**Step back**," I commanded.

The words didn't just vibrate through the air; they slammed into the room like a physical blow. The Alpha tone was so concentrated, so potent, that the crystal chandelier above us jingled.

Marcus didn't just step back. He stumbled, his knees buckling as his wolf whimpered in terror, forcing him into a submissive crouch. His eyes went wide, filled with a primal fear he couldn't understand. He wasn't looking at a servant. He was looking at a predator that could tear his throat out before he could draw a breath.

The entire lobby went silent. Gideon’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowing as he scanned me, searching for something familiar in the terrifying aura I projected. But the rain and steel scent masked everything.

"Apologies," I said, my voice smooth and unrecognizable, stripped of all emotion. "We were here first."

I turned my back on them, leaving the Silverclaw Beta trembling on the marble floor.

***

An hour later, I sat in the darkened suite adjoining Rosemary’s. The luxury of the room was wasted on me. I wasn't here to sleep. I was here to hunt.

The hotel walls were thick, designed to give the supernatural guests privacy, but they were no match for the senses of a White Wolf. I closed my eyes, tuning out the hum of the refrigerator, the distant traffic, and the beat of my own heart. I pushed my hearing outward, searching for the frequency of Gideon’s voice.

They were two floors down. I found them.

"...can't keep doing this, mother," Gideon’s voice was ragged. "The accounts are empty. The investments failed."

"low your voice," Eleanor Greene hissed. I could hear the rustle of her stiff taffeta dress. "We are Silverclaw. We do not discuss poverty."

"It's not poverty, it's ruin!" Gideon sounded desperate. "We can't afford the tribute to the Council this year. If they audit us..."

"They won't audit us," Eleanor snapped. "Not as long as the rogue payments continue."

My eyes snapped open. I grabbed the leather-bound notebook from the bedside table and a pen.

"It's blood money, mother," Gideon argued, though his resistance sounded weak. "Taking bribes from rogues to let them poach on our borders? To let them use our territory as a smuggling route? If the Council finds out, we'll be stripped of our rank. We'll be executed."

"Then don't let them find out!" Eleanor’s voice was cold, devoid of morality. "We do what we must to maintain our lifestyle, Gideon. You wanted to be Alpha? This is the burden. You made your choice seven years ago when you rejected that useless girl. Do not grow a conscience now."

I wrote it all down. Every word. Every date they mentioned.

*Bribes. Smuggling. Treason.*

A cruel smile touched my lips beneath the veil. They thought they had buried Maia Brooks. They didn't realize they had planted a seed, and now, the vines were coming to strangle them.

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