My Cruel Alpha's Rejected Mate

Alvera POV

"Fix it?" I repeated, my voice trembling not with fear, but with a sudden, cold fury that rose from the pit of my stomach.

I shoved Gina's hand off my arm. The force of it surprised her, and she stumbled back a step, her heels clicking sharply against the linoleum floor.

"Let's get one thing straight, Gina," I said, stepping into her personal space. I might be wolfless, I might be an Omega in the eyes of the Pack, but I had spent three years managing the most powerful Alpha in the region. I knew how to wield authority, even if I couldn't growl it. "I don't get paid for warming anyone's bed. I get paid because I am the only one competent enough to run this administration without burning it to the ground."

Gina's eyes narrowed, her mouth opening to retort, but I cut her off.

"And if you think shouting about my private life in the hallway is going to get Jarred a better house, think again. One word to the Resource Allocation Committee about your 'misuse' of the current housing allowance, and I can have you all moved to the barracks on the perimeter. Do you want to explain to my brother why he's sleeping in a bunk bed because you couldn't keep your mouth shut?"

The color drained from Gina's face. The perimeter barracks were notorious—drafty, cramped, and dangerously close to the Rogue lands.

"You wouldn't," she hissed, though the uncertainty in her eyes betrayed her.

"Try me," I whispered.

Gina glared at me, her chest heaving. Then, her eyes glazed over. The tell-tale sign of a *Mind-Link*. She was talking to someone—Jarred, undoubtedly. I couldn't hear their mental conversation, a constant reminder of my defect, but the malice radiating from her was loud enough.

"This isn't over, Alvera," she spat, spinning around and storming off into the shadows.

I leaned back against the cold metal of the filing cabinet, exhaling a breath I didn't know I was holding. My hands were shaking. It was a temporary victory. The walls were closing in, and the wolves were circling.

*

By evening, the headache pounding behind my temples was rivaling the dull ache in my chest. I was at my desk, trying to focus on the quarterly budget, when the air suddenly thickened with that cloying, synthetic sakura scent.

"Brennan, darling," a voice purred, dripping with false sweetness.

I looked up. Kassie was leaning against the doorframe of Brennan's office, her hand resting possessively on the wood. Brennan stood behind her, shrugging on his suit jacket. His face was impassive, his golden eyes sweeping over the office before landing on me.

"You can't work your little wolfless assistant to the bone," Kassie continued, turning her smile toward me. It didn't reach her eyes. "Let her go home. *We* have plans. Dinner at The Obsidian."

The Obsidian. It was the most exclusive restaurant in the territory, a place Brennan had taken me only once, under the cover of darkness, entering through the back door.

Brennan adjusted his cuffs, his gaze lingering on me for a second too long. "Kassie is right. Go home, Miss Dalton. Finish the reports tomorrow."

"Miss Dalton." The formality was a blade between my ribs.

"Thank you, Alpha. Miss Warren," I said, my voice flat. I began packing my bag, my movements mechanical.

"See? He's not a tyrant," Kassie giggled, linking her arm through his. She practically dragged him toward the elevator, her body pressed tight against his side.

I watched them leave. The elevator doors slid shut, cutting off the sight of her hand on his bicep. The silence they left behind was suffocating. With the Severance Declaration sitting in the legal draft folder on my computer, I knew my time was running out. Once he signed that, once he marked her... I would be nothing. Just an employee he could fire.

And if I lost this job, I lost everything.

*

The Pack Infirmary was quiet, the air sterile and sharp with antiseptic. I found Dr. Elian Vance in his office, studying a holographic chart. He looked up as I entered, his expression grave.

"Alvera," he said, gesturing to the chair opposite him. "I'm glad you came."

"Is it Mom?" I asked, gripping the back of the chair. "Is she worse?"

"Her condition is... stabilizing, but the degradation of her cells is accelerating," Dr. Vance sighed, rubbing his temples. "However, there is a new protocol. A purification ritual involving Moonflowers harvested from the Silver Creek territory. Combined with our current therapy, it could extend her life by five years. Maybe more."

Hope, bright and painful, flared in my chest. "Five years? Elian, that's... that's a miracle. When can we start?"

He hesitated. "The Moonflowers are rare. We have to import them. The cost is double the current regimen, Alvera. And because it's an external import, it requires direct authorization from the Alpha to release funds from the Pack Treasury."

The hope died instantly, replaced by cold dread.

Double the cost. Alpha authorization.

How could I ask Brennan for this now? With Kassie hanging off his arm, auditing his schedule, and the rejection looming?

"I... I need a few days," I managed to say, my throat dry.

"Don't wait too long," Elian warned gently.

I walked out of his office like a ghost. I went to Room 304. My mother, Ruby, was awake, staring out the window at the training grounds. She looked so frail, her skin translucent under the harsh fluorescent lights.

Earlier, the bed next to hers had been occupied by Old Man Miller. Now, it was empty, the sheets stripped. He had passed this afternoon because his family couldn't afford the advanced healers.

"Alvera," Mom whispered, turning her head. Her eyes were wet. "I saw Mr. Miller go. He looked peaceful."

"Mom, don't," I said, sitting on the edge of her bed and taking her cold hand.

"It's too much, baby," she said, her voice cracking. "The money. The stress. I see it on your face. You're working yourself to death for a dying woman. Just... let me go. Save your money. Take care of Dulce."

Something inside me snapped. The fear, the humiliation from Kassie, the threat from Gina—it all boiled over into a desperate, hard protective instinct.

"Stop it," I said, my voice harsh, cutting through the room.

Mom blinked, startled.

"I don't care about Dulce," I lied, squeezing her hand tight enough to hurt. "I don't have a blood obligation to her. I do this for *you*. You are the only thing I have in this world. If you give up, if you dare talk about leaving me, I will walk out that door and I won't come back."

Tears spilled down her cheeks. "Alvera..."

"Promise me," I demanded, my eyes burning but dry. "You fight. You take the treatment. Or you lose me right now."

It was cruel. It was necessary.

She nodded slowly, sobbing quietly. "I promise. I'll fight."

I stayed until she fell asleep, listening to the steady beep of the monitor. I had bought her time, but I had no idea how to pay for it. As I looked at her sleeping face, I knew one thing for certain: I would beg, steal, or shatter my own heart to keep that monitor beeping. Even if it meant facing Brennan and his new Luna tomorrow.