My Alpha Rejected Me and Gave Me to Rogues

The medic's voice cracked through the mind-link at three in the morning.

*Eva. Come now. Your father—*

I was already running.

The medical ward was too bright, the fluorescent lights harsh and clinical. I shoved through the door to my father's room and stopped.

He was convulsing.

His body arched off the bed, muscles locked, veins standing out dark against his skin. The monitor screamed. Two medics held him down, their faces white.

"What happened?" My voice didn't sound like mine.

Maren looked up, her hands pressed against my father's chest. "I don't know. He was stable an hour ago. Then he just—" She broke off as another convulsion ripped through him.

I pushed past her and grabbed his hand. It was burning.

My wolf surged forward, frantic. This wasn't the wolfsbane deficiency. This was something else. Something toxic, corrosive, eating through his system from the inside.

"Eva, his wolf spirit—" Maren's voice was shaking. "It's collapsing. I've never seen anything like this."

I closed my eyes and let my gift rise. Heat flooded my palms, pulling, searching. I pushed it into him, following the threads of his wolf spirit, trying to find the source.

Poison.

It was everywhere. In his blood, his organs, wrapped around his wolf like a strangling vine. Designed to mimic natural deterioration until it was too late to stop.

I fought it for hours.

My hands shook. Sweat dripped into my eyes. I poured everything I had into him, trying to pull the poison out, trying to stabilize what was left. The other medics moved around me, administering treatments, adjusting monitors. Nothing worked.

My father's eyes opened once. Just for a moment.

He looked at me. His lips moved, shaping words he didn't have breath to speak.

Then his wolf let out one final, broken howl — a sound that came from somewhere deep and shattered — and went silent.

The monitor flatlined.

I didn't let go of his hand.

Someone was speaking. Maren, maybe. Saying something about time of death, about procedures. I didn't hear her.

I sat there, holding my father's cooling hand, and felt something inside me go very, very still.

---

The morning came without permission.

I was still in the chair beside my father's bed when the pack house began to wake. Someone had covered him with a sheet. I didn't remember when.

Footsteps in the hallway. Voices, low and urgent.

The door opened. Rowan Voss stepped inside, his expression flat. "The Alpha wants you in the great hall. Now."

I looked at him. My voice came out hoarse. "My father just died."

"I know." He didn't sound sorry. "The Alpha is waiting."

I stood slowly. My legs were numb. I followed him out, leaving my father behind.

---

The great hall was already full.

Pack members lined the walls, their faces curious, wary. Hayes stood at the front, his expression carved from stone. And beside him, Ariella.

She was pale, her hand resting lightly on her stomach. Her eyes were red-rimmed, as if she'd been crying.

She looked at me as I entered. Something flickered across her face — satisfaction, maybe, or triumph — gone so quickly I almost thought I'd imagined it.

"Eva Turner." Hayes' voice cut through the murmur of the crowd. "Step forward."

I walked to the center of the hall. My hands hung at my sides, still trembling faintly from the hours of failed healing.

Ariella's voice broke the silence. It was soft, shaking. "I lost the pup."

The hall went quiet.

"Yesterday," she continued, her hand pressing against her abdomen. "I started bleeding. The healers tried to stop it, but..." She trailed off, her voice catching. "It was too late."

Hayes' jaw tightened. He didn't look at me.

"The medical records show the healing ritual was performed incorrectly." Ariella's voice was stronger now, edged with something cold beneath the grief. "Eva's technique was reckless. Dangerous. She destabilized the pup's connection to my wolf."

I stared at her. "That's not—"

"Silence." Hayes' Alpha tone slammed into me like a physical blow. My throat locked. The words died before I could speak them.

Ariella produced a folder, handing it to Hayes. He opened it, scanning the pages. His expression darkened.

"These records are clear," he said quietly. "The ritual was botched. The energy transfer was uncontrolled. You destabilized a pregnant wolf's spirit."

"No." The word came out strangled, forced past the Alpha command still pressing on my throat. "I followed protocol. I was careful—"

"You killed my pup." Ariella's voice cracked, tears spilling down her cheeks. Real tears, or a performance so perfect it didn't matter. "You were jealous. You wanted to hurt me."

The crowd shifted. Whispers spread like wildfire.

I tried to speak again. Hayes' Alpha tone tightened, crushing the air from my lungs.

"Eva Turner," he said, his voice cold and final. "You are hereby charged with Healer malpractice resulting in the loss of life. You are stripped of all remaining privileges and remanded to detention pending further investigation."

I couldn't breathe. Couldn't move.

Rowan stepped forward, gripping my arm. His fingers dug into the scarred skin.

"My father," I managed, the words barely a whisper. "He was poisoned. Someone—"

"Your father's death is not relevant to this proceeding," Hayes said flatly.

Not relevant.

I looked at Ariella. She met my gaze, her expression serene beneath the tears.

And she smiled.

Just slightly. Just enough.

Rowan dragged me toward the side door. The crowd parted, silent now, their eyes following me.

I didn't fight. There was no point.

My father was dead. Ariella's lie was already truth. And Hayes — my fated mate, the man the Moon Goddess had chosen for me — had just condemned me without letting me speak a single word in my own defense.

The door closed behind me.

And I realized, with a clarity that felt like drowning, that I had never been his mate at all.