My Alpha Tried to Demote Me to Omega for Her

I slipped away from the gala, my fingers still trembling around the stem of the untouched champagne glass. The weight of Lachlan's words pressed against my chest like a stone—*wolfless charity case*, *pathetic*, *secretary*. Each one a knife twist in a heart I'd spent five years trying to make him love.

The cool night air did little to soothe the burning in my eyes as I made my way back to the Pack House. I just needed to be alone, to process the shattered pieces of what I'd believed was real.

"Luna Spencer."

The voice stopped me in the marble-floored hallway. Former Luna Allen—Lachlan's mother—stood with her arms crossed, her silver-streaked hair pulled into an immaculate chignon. Her eyes narrowed as she took in my appearance.

"You're leaving early," she stated, not a question but an accusation. "Again."

I straightened my spine, fighting the urge to shrink under her gaze. "I wasn't feeling well, Former Luna. The crowd was... overwhelming."

"Unwelcoming, perhaps?" Her lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. "Florence mentioned you seemed out of sorts tonight. Poor dear was concerned."

Of course she was.

"The Moonlight Gala is our most important social event of the year," Former Luna continued, her voice dripping with disappointment. "Your absence reflects poorly on Lachlan. On our family."

"I'm sorry if—"

"Are you?" She stepped closer, her perfume—expensive and cloying—invading my space. "Because it seems to me you've never truly tried to belong here. Five years, and still no wolf. Still no heir."

I swallowed hard, my throat tight. "I've worked hard for this pack."

"As a secretary, perhaps." Her eyes flicked to the glass necklace at my throat, and I saw her lip curl slightly. "But a Luna? A true Luna?"

She sighed dramatically, looking past me down the hallway. "Florence was radiant tonight. The elders noticed how she glowed in Lachlan's presence. How natural they looked together."

My stomach twisted.

"The council is growing concerned," she continued, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "About your... inadequacy. They're discussing options."

"Options?" The word felt like ice on my tongue.

"For the pack's future." Her smile turned sharp. "Strong bloodlines matter, Hanna. Always have. Always will."

---

The next morning, I arrived at the Alpha's office early. I needed the treaty documents I'd prepared for the Northern Alliance meeting—work Lachlan had ignored for weeks until I'd forced his attention to it.

The door was ajar. Strange. Lachlan never arrived before noon.

I pushed it open and froze.

Florence stood in the center of the room, directing two Delta warriors as they moved furniture. My desk—the elegant mahogany piece that had been my one comfort in this space—was being carried toward the hallway.

"Oh!" Florence turned, her hand flying to her chest in mock surprise. "Hanna! I didn't expect you so early."

"What's happening?" I asked, my voice steadier than I felt.

She smiled sweetly, gesturing to the room. "Just freshening things up a bit. You've been so overwhelmed lately, and I thought... well, I have more time to help with the administrative duties."

My eyes tracked the changes. My desk had been relocated to the hallway outside the office. In its place stood an ornate vanity with a gilded mirror—Florence's personal item from her quarters.

"I see," I said carefully.

"We didn't want to disturb you," she continued, moving closer to me. "Lachlan thought it might be best if I handled more of the... day-to-day matters. You know, since you've been struggling to keep up."

The treaty documents I'd come for were spread across the conference table, marked with notes in Florence's handwriting. Work I'd spent weeks perfecting, now being rewritten without consultation.

"I was just retrieving some files," I said, moving toward the table.

The door opened behind us. Lachlan filled the frame, his presence immediately commanding the room.

"What's going on here?" he asked, his eyes moving from Florence to me.

Before I could speak, Florence's expression crumpled. Her eyes filled with tears, her lower lip trembling.

"Nothing," she whispered. "I was just trying to help, and Hanna seemed... upset with the changes."

Lachlan's expression hardened as he looked at me. "Is that true?"

"I—"

"Enough." His voice deepened, the Alpha tone vibrating through the room. "You will apologize to Florence. Now."

The weight of his command hit me like a physical blow. My knees buckled as the Alpha tone pressed down on my mind, forcing compliance.

"I'm sorry," I choked out, fighting against the pressure.

Florence stepped forward, placing a hand on my shoulder in false comfort. But her eyes—her eyes gleamed with triumph as I knelt before them both.

"Apologize properly," Lachlan commanded, his Alpha tone relentless. "For disrespecting a high-ranking warrior."

The words burned my throat like acid. "I apologize for disrespecting you, Florence. It won't happen again."

As I spoke, something stirred deep within me—a flicker of heat and rage that had nothing to do with submission and everything to do with survival.