Rejected by My Alpha, Crowned as the Queen

Selena POV

The metallic stench of my own blood choked the air. I reached down with trembling hands, my vision blurring as I saw my fingers coated in dark crimson. Jaxon took a half-step forward, his nostrils flaring sharply as the scent hit him.

Elara immediately latched onto his bicep. "Alpha, leave her," she whispered, her voice dripping with fake pity. "It's just her female cycle. You know how dramatic Omegas get."

Jaxon froze. The predatory curiosity in his eyes was abruptly extinguished, replaced by a flat, dismissive cold. "Let her sit there and bleed," he sneered. "Maybe it'll teach her some goddamn respect."

Without another glance, he scooped Elara into his arms and carried her out the door.

I opened my mouth to release a distress howl, but my throat was entirely clogged with despair. The edges of my vision rapidly tunneled into blackness before the floor rushed up to meet my face.

I jolted awake to the blinding fluorescent lights of the Pack hospital, the sterile reek of bleach burning my sinuses. An elderly Pack Healer stood at the foot of my bed, clutching a clipboard. His eyes were heavy with pity.

"You lost the pup," he said quietly. "It was just starting to form."

I slowly turned my head, staring blankly at the stained sheets beneath me. My womb felt entirely hollow, an icy wind howling through the gaping hole in my soul.

I thought of the Jaxon from five years ago—the low-ranking Beta who had handed me his last piece of roasted meat in the dead of winter. The boy who had sworn to the Moon Goddess he would conquer this territory just to give our future pups a safe home.

The door crashed open. The image of him from five years ago seemed to curl and blacken at the edges, like an old photograph consumed by a flame, until only ash remained. Jaxon stormed in, his chest heaving with blind rage.

"You malicious bitch!" he roared, marching straight to the side of my bed. "You spread rumors about Elara to the Pack! She was so ashamed she took a silver blade to her own wrists!"

He grabbed my arm and violently yanked me out of the hospital bed. In the instant I lost my balance, the ceiling and floor swapped places. The cold of the tiles pressed against my cheek, the sharp smell of disinfectant stinging my eyes as the chill seeped through the thin fabric of my gown. He threw a rolled-up parchment directly at my face.

"Sign the Rejection contract," he barked. "I'm transferring you to the border estate. I need you out of my sight to calm her down."

I caught the parchment before it hit the floor and unrolled it with shaking fingers. My eyes scanned the dense legal script, and my blood ran cold. The asset transfer clause was a hollow shell—the estate was listed but the trust fund was missing entirely, replaced by a forfeiture rider buried in fine print. This contract would leave me with nothing. I opened my mouth to protest, but Jaxon's eyes flashed with Alpha authority. *

"Sign it," he commanded, the Alpha's power crushing my vocal cords before I could form a single word of objection. *

I stared up at the man who was supposed to be my soulmate. There was no love left in his pitch-black eyes—only a desperate, predatory need to command every soul in his orbit.

*With the Alpha's Command still choking my will, my hand moved against my own volition. The pen scratched across the parchment. My signature bled onto the page like the life bleeding out of my womb. *

I pushed myself up onto my trembling knees. Looking him dead in the eye, I spoke the ancient vow.

"I, Selena, accept your rejection."

The mate bond inside my chest violently snapped like a frayed steel cable. It felt as if someone had reached straight through my ribcage and crushed my lungs with their bare hands. My lungs felt as if they had been wrung out like a wet cloth; each attempted breath was a dry, rasping effort that brought only a dull ache from within my chest.

Jaxon shifted his weight, looking momentarily uncomfortable. "Once Elara's mental state is stable, I'll visit you at the estate," he offered, a hollow, empty promise.

Then he turned his back and walked out.

The second he was gone, a group of low-ranking Pack members crowded the doorway. They pointed fingers, their laughter echoing off the sterile walls.

"Greedy Omega," a female spat. "Trying to trap the Alpha with a fake pregnancy."

I ignored their barking. Suddenly, a sharp chime echoed in my head—a private mind-link message from Elara. She sent me two distinct images.

The first showed Jaxon gently bandaging the incredibly shallow, superficial scratch on her wrist.

The second photo loaded into my mind, and a cold stillness seized me.

The rhythmic drip of the IV bag beside the bed seemed to fall silent.

Elara was smiling wickedly at the camera. She was standing inside the Intensive Care Unit. Her hand was resting dangerously close to the medical-grade nutrient line that belonged to my comatose adoptive mother.

*My heart stopped. My fingers were already clawing at the sheets before my mind caught up. Not her. Anyone but her. *