My Alpha Chose Her Over Me

The mind-link opened like a wound.

*Dariel, please. The cabin's flooding. The roof collapsed. I'm scared. Please, I just need somewhere safe until the storm passes.*

Silence stretched so long I thought he'd blocked me entirely. Then his voice came through, sharp with irritation.

*Stop being dramatic and seeking attention, Nora. I'm busy. Jessica twisted her ankle and needs me.*

The link slammed shut before I could respond, leaving me alone with the thunder and the rising water.

I pressed myself into the driest corner of the cabin, knees pulled to my chest, one hand curved protectively over my stomach. Jessica twisted her ankle. That was more important than me drowning in a collapsing building. That was more important than the mother of his child.

The storm raged until dawn. I didn't sleep. I just sat there in the cold water, shivering, counting the minutes until morning.

By the time the sun rose, I could barely stand. My legs had gone numb from the cold, and when I finally stumbled outside, I felt something warm and wet between my thighs.

Blood.

Not much. Just a few drops. But enough to send panic clawing up my throat.

I made it to the pack clinic just after eight, slipping through the back entrance like the ghost I'd become. The waiting room was empty except for an elderly wolf reading a magazine. I kept my head down, my hand pressed against my lower abdomen.

"Nora?" Dr. Elena Rivera appeared in the doorway, her dark eyes widening. "What are you doing here?"

"I need to see you. Privately."

She ushered me into an exam room without another word, closing the door firmly behind us. "What's wrong?"

"I'm pregnant." The words came out in a rush. "About six weeks. And I'm spotting. Just a little, but—"

"Lie down." Her voice shifted into professional mode, all business. She helped me onto the exam table, her hands gentle as she pressed against my abdomen. "How long have you been spotting?"

"Since this morning. After the storm."

Her jaw tightened. "You were in that cabin during the storm? The one with the collapsed roof?"

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

Dr. Elena was quiet for a long moment, her hands moving carefully over my stomach. Finally, she stepped back, her expression grave. "The fetus is under extreme stress, Nora. Your body is too cold, too malnourished. You're not producing enough of the hormones needed to sustain a healthy pregnancy."

"What does that mean?"

"It means without proper care, without the father's comforting pheromones and better nutrition, you risk a miscarriage." She met my eyes. "Does Alpha Dariel know?"

I shook my head.

"You need to tell him. Tonight. A pregnant she-wolf needs her mate's presence, his scent, his protection. It's biological. Without it—"

"He won't care." The words tasted like ash. "He's with Jessica."

Dr. Elena's expression softened with something that looked like pity. "Then you need to leave, Nora. Go back to your father. This environment is killing you and your pup."

But I couldn't leave. Where would I go? Back to Alpha John and admit he'd been right all along? Become a rogue with a baby and no pack?

I left the clinic with a bottle of vitamins I couldn't afford and instructions I couldn't follow.

The Head Omega found me that afternoon, her sharp knock rattling my cabin door.

"You're needed at the Pack House tonight," she said without preamble. "We're short-staffed for the gala."

"Gala?"

"To celebrate Miss Palmer's return." Her lips pursed with disapproval. "You'll serve champagne. Wear something presentable."

She left before I could refuse.

I had nothing presentable. Everything I owned was ruined or threadbare. I settled on a black dress I'd worn to a funeral two years ago, the fabric thin and faded but at least clean. My hands shook as I braided my hair, watching my reflection in the cracked mirror.

You can do this. Just a few hours. Then you can come back here and figure out what to do.

The Pack House blazed with light when I arrived through the servants' entrance. Music drifted from the ballroom, along with laughter and the clink of glasses. I joined the other servers in the kitchen, accepting a tray of champagne flutes with hands that wouldn't stop trembling.

"Table one first," the Head Omega instructed. "The Alpha and his guest."

Of course.

I walked into the ballroom on legs that felt like water. The space had been transformed—white flowers everywhere, candles casting golden light across the polished floor. And there, on the raised platform where the Alpha's throne sat, were Dariel and Jessica.

She wore red. Crimson silk that clung to her perfect body, her blonde hair cascading over bare shoulders. Dariel sat beside her in a black suit, his hand resting possessively on the arm of her chair.

They looked like royalty.

I approached with my tray, keeping my eyes down, praying he wouldn't notice me.

"Champagne?" My voice came out barely above a whisper.

Jessica plucked a glass from my tray without looking at me. But Dariel's eyes found mine, and for one horrible second, I thought I saw recognition. Thought I saw something flicker in his expression.

Then Jessica laughed, her hand sliding onto his thigh, and whatever I'd seen vanished.

"Thank you," he said, his voice distant and polite, like I was a stranger.

Like I was nothing.

I backed away, my tray shaking, champagne sloshing dangerously close to the rim of the glasses. Around me, the pack celebrated. Warriors toasted. She-wolves whispered and giggled. Everyone was so happy.

And I stood there in my funeral dress, carrying drinks for the man who'd destroyed me, invisible even when I was right in front of him.