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My Alpha Sold Me to His Enemy Novel Cover

My Alpha Sold Me to His Enemy

The packhouse gleamed like a jewel tonight, every surface polished to perfection—mostly by my own raw, blistered hands. I stood in the servants' corridor, my fingers still wrinkled from the bleach water I'd been scrubbing with for the past twelve hours. The annual Mate Ceremony was in full swing in the grand hall, and I could hear the music and laughter bleeding through the walls like a world I wasn't meant to touch. I wasn't supposed to be anywhere near the celebration. Omegas like me—wolfless, worthless—we stayed in the shadows where we belonged. But then Maya, one of the kitchen staff, came barreling around the corner with a tray of champagne flutes, and in her haste, she slammed directly into me. The impact sent me stumbling forward, through the servant's entrance, and straight into the swirling crowd of elegantly dressed pack members. I froze. Every eye in the room seemed to turn toward me at once. My stained work dress, my tangled hair still damp with sweat, the sharp chemical smell of bleach clinging to my skin—I was a stain on their perfect evening.
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Chapter 3

The banquet dragged on like a slow death.

I'd refilled wine glasses, cleared plates, and endured countless dismissive glances for what felt like hours. My burned hands throbbed with every movement, the wine-soaked rags doing little to protect the raw flesh beneath. But I kept moving, kept my head down, kept breathing through the pain that had nothing to do with my physical wounds.

Then Cole stood up.

The room fell silent immediately, all eyes turning to the Future Alpha as he raised his glass. Even from my position against the wall, I could see the confident set of his shoulders, the practiced charm of his smile.

"I want to thank you all for being here tonight," he began, his voice carrying that perfect blend of authority and warmth that made people lean in. "As we stand on the threshold of a new era for the Blood Moon Pack, I'm honored to share some of the innovations that will define our future."

My stomach twisted.

"Our border security has always been strong, but I've developed a revolutionary new defense system—a multi-layered tactical approach that integrates rotating patrol patterns with strategic choke-point reinforcement."

The words hit me like physical blows. Those were my words. My exact phrasing from the journal entry I'd written three nights ago, my fingers flying across the datapad while my body still screamed from the mate bond severance.

"By implementing a dynamic response grid," Cole continued, gesturing with his free hand, "we can reduce our vulnerability windows by forty-three percent while simultaneously decreasing patrol fatigue."

Forty-three percent. The precise number I'd calculated after weeks of modeling different scenarios. I'd been so proud of that breakthrough, so certain it would help protect vulnerable pack members during rogue attacks.

And now Cole was presenting it as his own brilliant innovation.

Alpha Hugh Stewart stood, raising his glass. "Remarkable, Cole. This kind of tactical genius is exactly why the Ironfang Pack is proud to ally with Blood Moon through your union with my daughter."

Lillian beamed up at Cole, her hand sliding possessively up his arm. "My mate is so brilliant. I knew from the moment I met him that his mind was something special."

The room erupted in applause and cheers. I watched Cole soak it in, watched him accept congratulations and admiration for work that had cost me sleep and sanity and the last shreds of my hope.

I bit down on my tongue until I tasted copper, the pain the only thing keeping me from screaming the truth to the entire hall. But what would be the point? Who would believe a wolfless Omega over their Future Alpha? Who would care?

Luna Griffin caught my eye from across the room, her expression one of cold satisfaction. She knew. Maybe not the specifics, but she knew I was suffering, and she was enjoying every second of it.

The moment my shift ended, I fled to my quarters.

My hands shook as I pulled out my datapad, the screen's glow harsh in the darkness of the basement room. The encrypted Lycan pack-link forums loaded slowly, but I didn't care. I needed this. Needed to reclaim something, anything, that was mine.

I logged into Shadow's account and began to write with a fury I'd never felt before.

My fingers flew across the keys, pouring out not just new strategies but detailed documentation of everything I'd developed over the past months. I embedded digital time-stamps on every file, added layers of encryption that would prove the chronological development of each idea. And then—something I'd never done before—I used the specialized scent-marking feature available only to verified Lycan forum members.

The datapad's biometric scanner read my unique scent signature and embedded it into the files themselves, creating an untamperable record that these strategies had originated from me. From Shadow. The technology was cutting-edge, used primarily by the Lycan King's own strategists to prevent intellectual theft.

I uploaded everything: the border defense protocols, the dynamic response grids, the vulnerability analysis. All of it marked, stamped, and sealed with proof of my authorship.

The forum's notification system pinged almost immediately. Someone was viewing my posts in real-time. The username made my breath catch: Elder_Thorne_Official.

A member of the Lycan King's Supreme Council was reading my work. Right now.

I stared at the screen, my heart pounding, as a private message notification appeared.

"Shadow. Your tactical innovations have not gone unnoticed. We need to speak."

Before I could process what that meant, footsteps echoed in the corridor outside. Heavy. Purposeful. Heading toward the upper levels.

I glanced at the time. Just past midnight. My mandatory cleaning shift in Cole's private office was about to begin.

I shoved the datapad under my mattress and grabbed my cleaning supplies, my mind still reeling from Elder Thorne's message. But as I climbed the stairs to the administrative wing, something felt different. Wrong.

Cole's office door was slightly ajar, a sliver of light cutting across the darkened hallway. I could hear his voice, low and urgent, and another voice responding—rougher, older, sending instinctive revulsion crawling up my spine.

I pressed myself against the wall, my heightened senses—sharper than they'd ever been before—catching fragments of their mind-link conversation bleeding into audible words.

"—fifty thousand upfront, the rest when you deliver her—"

"—damaged goods now, Griffin, the rejection will have—"

"She's wolfless, Vance. She won't fight back. And no one will miss her."

My blood turned to ice.

Alpha Vance. The name alone was enough to make seasoned warriors avoid certain territories. Stories of Omegas who'd disappeared into his pack and never been seen again. Whispers of torture, abuse, things too horrific to speak aloud.

And Cole was negotiating to hand me over to him.

"The Alliance Summit is in two weeks," Cole continued. "I'll need the hundred thousand by then to secure my Alpha title. Once the ceremony is complete and I'm officially mated to Lillian, the Omega will be yours. No one tracks missing servants."

Vance's laugh was like gravel scraping bone. "Always a pleasure doing business with an Alpha who understands practical solutions."

I stood frozen in the hallway, my cleaning supplies clutched in my burned hands, as the full scope of Cole's betrayal crystallized into terrible clarity.

He wasn't just stealing my work.

He was selling me.

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