My Alpha Rejected Me for a Luna Who Poisoned Me

The seizures came in waves.

One moment I'd be lying in the infirmary bed, staring at the wooden beams overhead, and the next my body would lock up like someone had poured concrete into my veins. My back would arch. My teeth would clench so hard I tasted blood. And then the hallucinations would start.

Brittany's face, twisted in triumph. Jennifer's hands forcing the cup to my lips. David's eyes, cold and dismissive, as he turned his back on me.

"It's the wolfsbane leaving your system," Elena said, her voice steady as she pressed a cool cloth to my forehead. The Head Healer of Rainshadow Pack had kind eyes and hands that knew exactly where to touch to ease the pain. "Your body is purging years of poison. It's going to get worse before it gets better."

Worse felt impossible. But she was right.

That night, the nightmare came.

I was back in the clearing, on my knees in the dirt. But this time I could see everything clearly—the rogues circling Brittany, their movements choreographed like a dance. The way she dragged David's unconscious body just far enough to leave her scent on him. The coins changing hands in the shadows.

"Fake," I screamed in the dream. "They were fake rogues. She paid them. She paid them!"

But no one could hear me. David stood at the altar, Brittany at his side, and when I tried to run toward them, my legs wouldn't move. I was sinking into the earth, mud filling my mouth, my lungs—

Then warmth flooded through me.

It wasn't physical warmth. It was something deeper, settling into the hollow spaces of my mind like light through a window. The nightmare fractured. The mud dissolved. And suddenly I wasn't alone in my own head.

*Easy. You're safe. I've got you.*

The voice was male, calm, anchoring me to something solid when everything else was chaos. I felt his presence like a hand extended in the dark, and without thinking, I reached for it.

The nightmare shattered.

I woke gasping, my body drenched in sweat. Jesse sat in the chair beside my bed, his eyes closed, his hand hovering inches from mine. When he opened his eyes, they were storm-gray and startled.

"What—" My voice came out hoarse. "What did you just do?"

He pulled his hand back slowly, like he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't. "A mind-link. I'm sorry. You were screaming about fake rogues, and I thought... I shouldn't have done it without permission."

I knew about mind-links. They were intimate, reserved for mates or pack members with deep bonds. The fact that he'd slipped into my mind so easily, that I'd felt his presence like it belonged there—

"It worked," I said quietly. "Thank you."

Something shifted in his expression. Relief, maybe. Or recognition.

---

Three days later, Elena declared me stable enough to leave the infirmary. My legs still shook when I stood, and my wolf remained silent—a ghost I couldn't quite reach. But the poison was gone, and that was something.

Jesse found me in the hallway, staring out a window at the rain.

"Walk with me," he said.

It wasn't a command. Just an invitation. I followed him through corridors that smelled like cedar and rain-soaked earth, past pack members who nodded respectfully but didn't stare. No one looked at me like I was broken here.

We stopped in front of a massive glass structure attached to the main building. Through the foggy panes, I could see green—so much green it hurt to look at.

"The library," Jesse said, pushing open the door.

It wasn't like any library I'd ever seen. Books lined the walls, yes, but the center was filled with plants—ferns and flowers and trees growing in careful chaos. Easels stood between the shelves. A pottery wheel sat in one corner. The air smelled like soil and paper and possibility.

"This is where we keep our strength," Jesse said, watching my face. "Not in the training grounds. Here."

I turned to him, confused. "I don't understand."

"You think you're weak because you can't fight. Because your wolf is silent. Because you couldn't stop what they did to you." His voice was gentle but firm. "That's not weakness, Olivia. That's survival. And survival takes a different kind of strength."

He led me to a table where blank journals sat in neat stacks.

"Write it down," he said. "Everything they did. Everything you lost. Get it out of your head and onto paper. Let it exist somewhere outside of you."

"I don't—" My throat tightened. "I don't know if I can."

"Try."

I picked up a journal. The pages were cream-colored, unmarked. Waiting.

Jesse left me there, alone with the plants and the rain and the blank pages. I sat for a long time, pen hovering over paper, afraid that if I started writing, I'd never stop. Afraid that the words would consume me.

But then I thought about the mind-link. The way Jesse's presence had felt like safety. The way he'd called me strong when I felt like nothing.

I pressed pen to paper.

*My name is Olivia Moore, and this is what they took from me.*

The words came slowly at first. Then faster. And with each sentence, I felt something shift inside me—not my wolf, not yet, but something equally important.

My voice.