My Alpha Sold Me to a Rival Pack

The silver platter was heavy, but the weight of the humiliation was heavier. I walked into the dining hall, my eyes fixed on the polished oak floorboards. The room was silent, save for the clinking of silverware against fine china. The pack elders sat in rigid rows, their gazes darting between their plates and the head of the table where Jackson sat like a king on a stolen throne.

"Pour the wine, Omega," Jackson commanded. He didn't look at me. He was busy slicing into a rare steak, the blood pooling on his plate mirroring the violence in his aura.

I moved to his side. My hand, the one with the withered wrist, trembled slightly as I lifted the heavy crystal decanter. I poured the vintage red into his glass, careful not to spill a drop. I moved to Mariah next. She was lounging in the Luna’s chair—my mother’s chair—wearing a silk dress that cost more than the annual budget for the pack orphanage.

As I tilted the bottle, Mariah’s hand shot out. She jerked her glass upward, hitting the spout.

Red wine splashed across the pristine white tablecloth, dripping onto the floor and splattering the hem of her dress.

"You clumsy bitch!" Mariah shrieked, jumping up. She looked at Jackson, her eyes wide with feigned shock. "Look what she did! She ruined it on purpose!"

Jackson stopped chewing. He slowly placed his knife and fork down. "Clean it up, Lina."

I stared at the puddle of wine, red like fresh blood. "She hit the glass, Jackson. You saw it."

"I said," he growled, his voice dipping into that dangerous, vibrating register, "clean it up."

Mariah smirked, pointing a manicured finger at the floor. "On your knees, cripple. Where you belong."

Something inside me snapped. It wasn't the anger of a moment; it was ten years of silence breaking at once. I dropped the heavy linen napkin I was holding. It fluttered to the floor, landing right in the spilled wine.

"No," I said softly.

The silence in the hall was deafening. Even the servers froze against the walls.

Mariah’s face twisted into a snarl. She lunged forward, her hand tangling in my hair, yanking my head back with supernatural strength. "You do not say no to your Luna!"

Pain exploded in my scalp, but instinct took over. I didn't have a wolf, but I knew anatomy. I knew leverage. As she pulled, I stepped into her space, grabbing her wrist with my good hand. I twisted her arm down, using her own momentum against her, and slammed her hand onto the heavy oak table.

*Crack.*

The sound of breaking bone echoed through the hall like a gunshot.

Mariah screamed, a high, piercing sound that shattered the tension. She stumbled back, clutching her mangled fingers, her face draining of color.

"Enough!"

The roar hit me like a physical wave. Jackson stood up, his chair crashing backward. His eyes were glowing a furious, unnatural yellow.

"**SUBMIT!**"

The Alpha Command slammed into my skull. It felt like a hydraulic press crushing my brain. Without a wolf to shield my mind, my body betrayed me instantly. My knees buckled, hitting the hardwood floor with a bone-jarring thud. I gasped for air, my vision swimming, every nerve ending screaming at me to bow, to bare my neck, to surrender.

I gritted my teeth, tasting copper. *I will not.*

Jackson stormed around the table, his aura suffocating. "You dare hurt her? You dare attack my mate in my house?"

He raised his hand, ready to strike.

Through the haze of pain, I saw the boots of a pack guard to my right. He was young, terrified, his hand hovering over the holster at his hip. The holster that held the emergency sidearm—loaded with silver bullets for rogue attacks.

I didn't think. I lunged.

I snatched the gun from the guard’s belt before he could process the movement. The cold steel was heavy in my hand, grounding me. As Jackson stepped forward, his hand raised to backhand me, I leveled the barrel at his chest.

"Lina, don't—" Elias shouted from the doorway.

I pulled the trigger.

The recoil jarred my damaged wrist, sending a fresh spike of agony up my arm. The deafening *bang* was followed instantly by the sickening sizzle of silver hitting Alpha flesh.

Jackson roared, stumbling back. He clutched his left shoulder, blood dark and thick seeping between his fingers. The smell of burning meat filled the air—the toxic reaction of silver on werewolf blood.

The entire dining hall gasped. Elders stood up, chairs scraping. I had just committed the ultimate crime. I had shot an Alpha.

Jackson looked at the blood on his hand, then at me. Shock warred with fury in his eyes. His healing factor was already trying to push the silver out, but the poison would slow him down, weaken him.

"You..." he wheezed, his face pale. "You shot me."

I kept the gun raised, though my hand was shaking violently. "I saved your life once, Jackson. Consider the debt paid."

"Seize her!" he bellowed, spit flying from his mouth. "Get this traitor out of my sight!"

Three guards were on me instantly. They wrenched the gun from my hand and twisted my arms behind my back. I didn't fight them. I had made my point.

Jackson leaned heavily against the table, Mariah sobbing beside him over her broken hand. He glared at me, his eyes black with the wolf's influence.

"Lock her in her room," he snarled, his voice thick with pain. "Bar the windows. Put a guard on the door."

He limped toward me, stopping inches from my face. I could smell the ozone of his anger and the metallic tang of his blood.

"You have forty-eight hours, Lina," he hissed. "Forty-eight hours to stand before this pack and beg for forgiveness. If you don't... I will strip you of your name. I will exile you to the rogue lands, and I will let the hunters finish what they started ten years ago."

"I'd rather run with rogues than serve a false King," I spat.

He signaled the guards. They dragged me out of the hall, past the horrified faces of the people I was born to lead. As the heavy door of my room slammed shut and the lock clicked into place, I didn't feel fear.

I looked at my hands. They were trembling, but they were free of wine stains.

The war had finally begun.