My Alpha Sold Me to a Rival Pack

The ache in my left wrist always flared right before a storm, a deep, throbbing reminder of what I had lost. I stood on the expansive wrap-around porch of the Silvercrest Pack House, my fingers unconsciously tracing the jagged, ugly scar hidden beneath the sleeve of my cashmere sweater. Ten years ago, that scar had been a silver-laced blade meant for a starving rogue boy's heart. Today, that boy was coming home as Alpha.

"He's late," Elias murmured from the shadows behind me. As the pack's Gamma and my adopted brother, he was the only one who didn't look at me with pity.

"Alpha business," I said, keeping my voice steady. "Diplomacy takes time."

But as the sleek black SUV finally crunched up the gravel driveway, the knot in my stomach tightened. The pack members who had gathered on the lawn went silent, their heads bowing in instinctual submission. I straightened my spine. I might not have a wolf anymore, but I was still a Hudson. I was still the daughter of the man who built this territory.

The driver's door opened, and Jackson stepped out. He looked every inch the King I had groomed him to be—broad shoulders filling out his suit, power radiating off him in waves that made the air heavy. My heart gave a foolish little flutter. I took a step forward, ready to welcome him.

He didn't look at me.

Instead, he walked around the hood of the car to the passenger side. He opened the door with a gentleness he used to save only for me. A slender leg emerged, followed by a woman who smelled like expensive vanilla and arrogance.

Mariah Griffin. The daughter of the Obsidian Pack's Beta.

A murmur rippled through the crowd. Werewolves from rival packs didn't just visit casually. Jackson placed a possessive hand on the small of her back, guiding her up the stairs. As they ascended, he finally looked at me. His eyes were cold, devoid of the warmth that used to be there when we were children hiding in the haylofts.

"Move, Lina," he said. It wasn't a growl, but it cut deeper than one.

I stepped aside, frozen, as they swept past me into the house my family built.

Inside, the humiliation only deepened. I found them in the main foyer. Mariah was running a manicured finger along the dusty rim of an antique vase—my mother's favorite.

"This has to go," she announced, her voice high and grating. "It smells like... old flowers. It clashes with my scent."

"That vase has stood there for twenty years," I said, walking into the room. I kept my chin high. "It stays."

Mariah turned, her lips curling into a smirk that didn't reach her eyes. She leaned against Jackson, who stood by the fireplace, watching us with bored detachment.

"Oh, Lina," she cooed. "You must be the housekeeper I heard about."

"I am the daughter of the former Alpha," I corrected, my voice hard. "And you are a guest."

Mariah laughed, a tinkling, cruel sound. She held up her arm, pulling back her sleeve to reveal a faint, pink line on her forearm—a scratch so minor it would have healed naturally in an hour.

"Jackson flew in a specialist Healer from the city just for this," she bragged, glancing up at him adoringly. "He hates to see me in pain. He says a Luna's skin should be flawless."

My hand went to my own wrist, the nerves screaming where the silver poison had withered the muscle and tendon, leaving my hand weak and trembling. For ten years, Jackson had never once offered to hire a specialist for me. He had told me the pack funds were too tight.

"Pain is a teacher," I said quietly.

"Jackson," Mariah whined, turning to him. "She's depressing me."

Jackson pushed off the mantel. "Pack meeting. Now."

Ten minutes later, the Pack House common room was suffocating. The elders sat in the front row, looking uncomfortable. Elias stood by the door, his hand hovering near his belt, his eyes locked on Jackson.

Jackson stood at the podium, Mariah preening beside him.

"The Silvercrest Pack has been weak for too long," Jackson announced, his voice booming without a microphone. "We need strength. We need a future. That is why I am formally announcing that the alliance with the Obsidian Pack will be sealed."

He took Mariah's hand and raised it. "Meet your new Luna."

The room exploded into whispers. My blood turned to ice.

"No!" I shouted, stepping into the center of the aisle. The whispers died instantly. "You cannot do this. Pack Law states that the Luna must be chosen by the Moon Goddess or sanctioned by the bloodline of the previous Alpha. You are Acting Alpha, Jackson. You do not have the right to replace the Hudson legacy with a rival wolf!"

Jackson looked down at me. For a second, I saw the boy I saved—the boy who cried in my lap when he thought he was going to die. Then, that boy vanished, replaced by a monster.

"I am not Acting Alpha," he said, his voice dropping an octave, vibrating with a power that made the windows rattle. "I am the Alpha."

"You are a steward!" I yelled, desperation clawing at my throat. "My father's laws—"

"**SUBMIT!**"

The command hit me like a physical blow. It wasn't just a shout; it was the Alpha Tone, a psychic hammer designed to crush the will of a wolf. If I had my wolf, she would have shielded me, growled back, fought the pressure.

But I was empty. I was hollow.

The force of his voice snapped my knees. I hit the floor hard, the impact jarring my spine. My forehead pressed against the cold wood, my body betraying me, forcing me into a bow of total, agonizing submission.

"Look at her," Jackson sneered, his voice echoing over my trembling form. "Broken. Weak. Wolfless."

He stepped off the podium and walked toward me. I could see his polished shoes stop inches from my face.

"A Queen needs a King, Lina," he whispered, loud enough for the elders to hear. "But a cripple? A cripple just needs to stay out of the way."