Rejected by My Fated Alpha

Since that day when Romeo’s guards pushed me to the ground on the street, I’ve deliberately avoided the main roads, selling my liquor in the quieter alleys instead.

My tavern, tucked away in an unremarkable corner of the west side of the city, isn’t large, but it’s peaceful enough. The liquor, which I brew myself, is called *Moonlit Brew*—crisp, smooth, and gradually building a loyal clientele.

One day, the sky turned gloomy, and by evening, rain began to fall. I closed up early, holding an umbrella as I made my way home.

The streets were silent, the only sound the steady patter of rain.

As I passed near the old city wall, I caught sight of a figure.

A man in a dark suit, sitting alone on the steps of the abandoned watchtower, a bottle of liquor in his hand.

He tilted his head back and took a swig.

I squinted through the rain and realized it was Romeo.

I froze, instinctively wanting to turn around and take another route.

But then he turned his head and glared at me.

I stood there, caught between moving forward and retreating.

“The liquor seller?” he asked, his voice rough, as if he hadn’t spoken in a long time.

I tightened my grip on the umbrella handle and nodded.

He scoffed, shaking the bottle in his hand. “Cheap stuff. Tastes terrible.”

I pressed my lips together, not responding.

He stood up and walked toward me.

Rain dripped from his sleeves, his face pale as death, but his eyes were dark and piercing.

I took half a step back, but he grabbed my arm.

He smirked, his voice low. “You’re scared of me?”

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm. “The Alpha’s reputation precedes him. I wouldn’t dare offend.”

He stared at me for a moment before finally letting go, turning to leave.

For some reason, I found myself speaking up. “If the Alpha doesn’t mind, I have a new batch of *Moonlit Brew* here.”

As soon as the words left my mouth, I was startled at myself.

Romeo paused, glancing back at me with a raised brow.

I steeled myself and pulled a bottle from my basket, handing it to him.

He took it, his fingers brushing against mine.

I flinched slightly, pulling my hand back.

He chuckled softly, uncorking the bottle and taking a sip.

“Not bad,” he said simply, his gaze fixed on me.

I felt uncomfortable under his scrutiny, looking away.

“What’s your name?” he asked suddenly.

“Zhuri Freeman.”

“Zhuri…”

He repeated it under his breath.

The rain grew heavier, my umbrella struggling to hold up.

Romeo glanced at it, then shrugged off his jacket and tossed it at me.

“Wear it,” he said, already turning away.

I stood there, stunned, watching as he walked into the rain, his figure gradually disappearing into the downpour.

A strange, inexplicable ache settled in my chest as I clutched his jacket, the warmth of it contrasting sharply with the cold rain.