My Alphas Rejected Our Pups

The storm hit just as I reached the treeline, fat snowflakes turning to ice pellets that stung my face like tiny needles. My breath came in ragged puffs as I stumbled through the dense pine forest of Crescent Ridge, branches catching at my jacket and scratching my arms raw.

I had nothing but the clothes on my back and the pregnancy test still crumpled in my pocket—proof of the life growing inside me that no one wanted. The community hall's harsh fluorescent lights and the cruel twist of Axel's mouth felt like a lifetime ago, though it had only been hours since I'd fled into the night.

My feet were numb in my worn sneakers, but I kept moving. Not toward any known Pack territory—that would be suicide. Instead, I headed northwest, toward the human settlements I'd only heard whispers about. Silverdale, they called it. A small mountain town where wolves could disappear if they were desperate enough.

The howl that split the night air behind me made my blood freeze.

I spun around, heart hammering against my ribs. Through the swirling snow, I caught a glimpse of yellow eyes reflecting the moonlight. A lone wolf, massive and gray, picking up my scent trail. But this wasn't one of the Pack wolves—the scent was wild, feral. A rogue.

Panic shot through me like lightning. I turned and ran, crashing through the underbrush as branches whipped across my face. Behind me, I could hear the steady rhythm of paws on snow, gaining ground with every stride.

The ground gave way beneath my feet without warning.

I tumbled down a steep embankment, rocks and roots tearing at my clothes as I rolled. My shoulder hit a boulder with a sickening crack, and I bit back a scream as pain exploded through my arm. When I finally came to rest at the bottom of the ravine, snow had worked its way inside my jacket, and something warm was trickling down my forehead.

The wolf's howl echoed from above, but it sounded farther away now. Maybe the fall had thrown it off my trail. I tried to push myself up, but my left arm wouldn't support my weight. Dislocated shoulder, at best.

That's when I saw the light.

Warm and golden, it flickered through the trees like a beacon. A cabin, I realized, smoke curling from its chimney into the storm-dark sky. I had no choice but to drag myself toward it, using my good arm to pull myself through the snow.

The door opened before I could knock.

"Well, well," said a voice like honey and gravel. "What have we here?"

The woman standing in the doorway was ancient, her silver hair braided with herbs and small bones. Her eyes were the pale blue of winter ice, but they held warmth that made my chest tight with unexpected relief. She wore a patchwork shawl over a simple dress, and the scent that clung to her was earth and growing things.

"Please," I whispered, my voice barely audible over the wind. "I'm hurt."

"I can see that, child." She stepped aside, gesturing me into the warmth. "Come in before you freeze to death on my doorstep."

The cabin's interior was like stepping into another world. Dried herbs hung from every rafter, and shelves lined the walls, filled with jars of mysterious powders and liquids that seemed to glow with their own light. A fire crackled in the stone hearth, casting dancing shadows across handwoven rugs.

"Sit," the woman commanded, pointing to a chair near the fire. "Let me look at that shoulder."

Her hands were surprisingly strong as she examined my injury, fingers probing with practiced expertise. "Agnes," she said by way of introduction. "And you're running from something that scared you more than a rogue wolf."

It wasn't a question. I met her knowing gaze and felt tears threaten. "How did you—"

"Child, I've been treating wolves longer than you've been breathing." Agnes moved to her shelves, selecting several jars with quick efficiency. "The question is, what kind of trouble brings a pregnant Omega into my woods in the middle of a blizzard?"

My hand flew instinctively to my stomach. "You can tell?"

"I can smell it on you." She mixed something in a wooden bowl, the scent sharp and medicinal. "Drink this. It'll help with the pain and won't harm the pup."

I accepted the cup with shaking hands, the liquid bitter but warming as it went down. Almost immediately, the throbbing in my shoulder eased.

"Now then," Agnes said, settling into the chair across from me. "Tell me about this baby."

Something in her tone made me hesitate. "What do you mean?"

Agnes leaned forward, her pale eyes intense. "I mean this child isn't ordinary, Harper."

I startled at the use of my real name, but she waved off my surprise.

"Your scent tells me everything I need to know," she continued. "This baby carries multiple Alpha genes. Not just traits—actual genetic markers from more than one Alpha father."

The cup slipped from my numb fingers, clattering to the floor. "That's impossible."

"Impossible, yes. But not unheard of." Agnes's expression grew grave. "I've seen it once before, nearly sixty years ago. The child was... extraordinary. Stronger than any Alpha, faster than any Beta, with abilities that defied Pack law."

"What happened to them?"

"The Packs feared what they couldn't control." Agnes's voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "They killed the mother and took the child. I never learned what became of him."

Ice settled in my veins that had nothing to do with the storm outside. "You think they'll come for my baby?"

"If they discover what you're carrying? Without question." Agnes stood, moving to the window to peer out at the swirling snow. "But there might be another way. The human town of Silverdale is only a few miles from here. You could disappear there, live quietly until the birth."

Hope flickered in my chest like a candle flame. "You'd help me?"

"I have contacts in town. A diner called The Pinecone needs help, and the owner asks no questions about past lives." Agnes turned back to me, her expression serious. "You'll need a new name, a new story. Can you handle that?"

"Yes." The word came out stronger than I felt. "Ivy. Ivy Wells."

Agnes nodded approvingly. "Good. Simple, forgettable." She moved to a trunk in the corner, pulling out warm clothes and a worn leather bag. "You'll stay here tonight, let that shoulder heal. Tomorrow, I'll take you to town."

Gratitude overwhelmed me. This stranger was offering me more kindness than my own Pack ever had. "Thank you," I whispered.

"Don't thank me yet, child." Agnes's expression darkened as she began packing supplies. "There's something else you need to know."

She approached me slowly, then took my hands in hers. Her skin was warm, but her grip was firm as iron. "You're not an ordinary Omega, Harper. I can feel it in your blood—an old marking, something ancient that's been sleeping in your bloodline for generations."

My breath caught. "What kind of marking?"

Before Agnes could answer, a howl echoed through the forest—long, mournful, and far too close. But this wasn't the wild call of a rogue wolf. This was organized, purposeful. A search party.

Agnes's face went pale as more howls joined the first, creating a haunting chorus that made my skin crawl. "They're looking for you," she whispered, moving quickly to extinguish the lanterns. "And they're not far behind."