Follow
Chapters
Share
Rejected by the Alpha, Claimed by the King Novel Cover

Rejected by the Alpha, Claimed by the King

I tapped out a message to my mate: "What are you up to right now?" Patrick, the Alpha heir of the Silverfang Pack, replied immediately: "I'm at home, tidying up." He sent a photo of a familiar room, gleaming and immaculate. I hadn’t mentioned that I had already checked the security cameras. He wasn’t lying; he was indeed at home, keeping himself busy. My wolf stirred uneasily in the back of my mind, a low growl of suspicion that I tried to ignore. So, here’s the conundrum. Standing right in front of me was another Patrick. But who could this impersonator be? As a Gamma of the Moonlight Pack, I knew better than to ignore such a glaring inconsistency. My instincts were on high alert, my wolf’s senses sharpening as I studied the figure ahead. --- I noticed the other Patrick as I left the pack’s headquarters, a sleek modern building that doubled as our central hub.
Chapters
Share

Chapter 8

The packhouse erupted into chaos behind us as we slipped into the forest. Through the broken windows, I could hear Sierra's voice rising above the confusion, sharp with panic and fury.

"Find her!" she screamed, her carefully maintained composure finally cracking. "She can't have gone far in her condition. Check every room, every hiding place!"

But her authority rang hollow in the spiritual vacuum left by our severed mate bond. Pack members stumbled through corridors in confusion, some obeying her commands while others hesitated, unsure whether to follow orders from someone who wasn't their Luna or their Alpha. Collin's incapacitation had left a power void that Sierra was desperately trying to fill.

Ryan's small hand gripped mine as we moved deeper into the treeline. The silver burns on my wrists throbbed with each step, my wolf still too weak to offer much healing. But maternal instinct drove me forward through the darkness, every fiber of my being focused on getting my son to safety.

"Mama, where are we going?" Ryan whispered, his young voice steady despite the fear I could smell rolling off him in waves.

"Away from here, baby," I murmured, pulling him closer as thunder rumbled overhead. "Somewhere they can't hurt us anymore."

The first drops of rain began to fall just as Sierra's hunting party emerged from the packhouse. I could see their flashlight beams cutting through the forest behind us, hear her voice directing the search with increasing desperation.

"Split up!" she commanded. "Marcus, take the north trail. Derek, check the river path. She's injured and has a child—she can't have gone far!"

But I knew these woods better than any of them. Years as Luna had taught me every hidden path, every secret route used for pack security. I led Ryan through a maze of deer trails and forgotten passages, staying ahead of our pursuers even as the storm intensified.

The rain soaked through our clothes within minutes, turning the forest floor into treacherous mud. Each step became a struggle as my weakened body fought against exhaustion and pain. Ryan stumbled beside me, his small legs working twice as hard to keep up, but he never complained, never asked to stop.

"This way," I breathed, guiding him toward a narrow ravine that would hide our scent from any tracking wolves. "Stay close to me."

Behind us, the search party's voices grew more frustrated. Sierra's commands became increasingly shrill as they lost our trail in the storm. I could hear Derek arguing with Marcus about search patterns, their unity fracturing without Collin's Alpha presence to bind them.

"She's heading for the border," Sierra snarled, her voice carrying on the wind. "Cut her off at Raven's Creek. If she reaches neutral territory..."

The threat hung unfinished, but I understood. Once we crossed into the no-man's land between pack territories, even Sierra's twisted authority couldn't follow. We just had to reach it alive.

Hours passed in a blur of mud, rain, and desperate flight. My silver burns had reopened, leaving bloody tracks on my wrists that the storm couldn't wash clean. Ryan's breathing grew labored, his small body pushed beyond its limits, but still he pressed on with the determination of a wolf twice his age.

We were less than a mile from the border when Sierra found us.

She emerged from the treeline like a vengeful spirit, her designer clothes torn and muddy, her perfect hair plastered to her skull by the rain. But her eyes burned with triumphant malice as she blocked our path to freedom.

"Going somewhere, dear sister-in-law?" she purred, her voice deadly soft despite the storm raging around us. "You didn't think it would be that easy, did you?"

Ryan pressed against my side, his small body trembling with more than cold. I could feel his fear, but underneath it was something else—a growing warmth that made my wolf stir with recognition.

"Let us pass, Sierra," I said, my voice steady despite my exhaustion. "You've won. Collin is yours. The pack is yours. Just let us go."

Her laugh was sharp as breaking glass. "Oh, but that's where you're wrong. You think I can let you live? Let you spread stories about what really happened? Let Ryan grow up knowing his father chose another woman over his mother?"

She stepped closer, her wolf's presence pressing against mine like a physical weight. "You're both loose ends, Makenna. And I don't leave loose ends."

Two pack warriors emerged from the shadows behind her—Derek and Marcus, their faces grim but determined. They'd followed their orders, tracked us through the storm, cornered us at the very edge of freedom.

"Return to the pack," Sierra commanded, her voice carrying the authority she'd stolen from Collin's weakness. "Face judgment for your crimes against pack law. Or die here as traitors."

I felt Ryan's body temperature spike beside me, his breathing becoming rapid and shallow. The terror, the desperation, the primal need to protect his mother—it was finally triggering what months of normal development couldn't.

"Choose quickly," Sierra continued, her smile widening. "My patience is wearing thin."

But I was no longer listening. All my attention was on Ryan, on the incredible transformation beginning in my son's small body as his wolf finally, desperately, began to emerge.

You may also like

After My Fiancé Stopped My Ex’s Attack Novel Cover
8.9
The phone vibrated against my desk, its screen illuminating with Everett's name. I smiled, reaching for it absently while sorting through another stack of case files. "Hey, Ev," I answered, expecting to hear about his latest trading victory or some joke he'd heard at the office. "Chloe." His voice cracked. "They're arresting me." My fingers froze on the file folder. "What? Who?" "The SEC. Insider trading charges." His words tumbled out in a frantic rush. "They're saying I used non-public information to trade stocks. It's bullshit, Chloe, you know it is.
Fake Pregnancy, Real Betrayal Novel Cover
8.9
I woke up on Thanksgiving morning with a sense of dread I couldn't shake. Something felt wrong in our house, though I couldn't put my finger on it. Sullivan was still asleep beside me, his breathing deep and even. I slipped out of bed quietly, pulling on my robe as I headed to the master bathroom. The marble countertop felt cold beneath my fingertips as I began my morning routine. Ten years of marriage had taught me to move silently when Sullivan was sleeping—he valued his rest above almost anything else. As I reached for my toothbrush, my eyes caught something in the wastebasket that made my heart skip a beat. A pregnancy test. Positive. My hands trembled as I reached down and picked it up.
Helene Richard: The Truth Unveiled Novel Cover
8.5
For ten years, I was the perfect wife to Wall Street heir Garrett Wise. I was the polished GNN anchor who cleaned up his scandals, all while his family paid for my mother's mounting medical bills. But when a photo of him draped over my on-air rival went viral, I finally had enough and served him divorce papers. His revenge was brutal. He had me fired, framed for taking bribes, and publicly humiliated on my own network. Even my own son was turned against me, calling me a "bad mommy" after his grandmother and Garrett's mistress poisoned his mind. Trapped in our penthouse, Garrett offered me a disgusting deal to stay as his quiet, compensated wife while his mistress, Daphne, faked a pregnancy to secure her place. That's when I discovered the cruelest irony: I was actually pregnant with his child. As he lunged at me, his hands reaching for my throat, I grabbed the nearest weapon. "You did this," I whispered, looking him dead in the eye. Then I plunged the silver letter opener into my own stomach, sacrificing our unborn child to ensure he would carry the guilt, and I would finally be free.
Husband's Crime Exposed Novel Cover
8.3
The plane lurched violently, throwing me against the window as the overhead compartments burst open, spilling luggage into the aisle. The captain's voice crackled through the intercom, tight with barely controlled panic: "Ladies and gentlemen, we're experiencing mechanical failure. Please remain calm and prepare for emergency procedures." Oxygen masks dropped from the ceiling like yellow flowers of death. My hands shook as I reached for Lily's mask first, my five-year-old daughter's eyes wide with terror as she clutched her worn teddy bear. "Mommy, what's happening?" she whispered, her small voice barely audible over the screaming engines. "It's okay, sweetheart. Mommy's here." I secured her mask with trembling fingers, then fumbled for my own, my heart hammering against my ribs. Across the aisle, Pierce was already adjusting Eloise's mask with the tender care of a man handling precious porcelain. His fingers lingered on her pale cheek as she leaned into his touch, her perfectly manicured hand grasping his wrist. Not once did his eyes drift toward us.
Mistress Steals My Dreams Novel Cover
9.8
The steam from Jayson's shower drifted through our bedroom as I sat on the edge of our king-sized bed, staring at the phone he'd carelessly left on his nightstand. Ten years. Ten years of marriage, and he'd forgotten his phone on our anniversary morning. The screen lit up with a notification, and my heart stopped. *Good morning, handsome. Last night was incredible. Can't wait to see you again today. 💕 - A* My fingers trembled as I picked up the device. Another message appeared. *I'm still thinking about what you whispered in my ear...
My Husband Faked Our Daughter’s Death to Give Her Away Novel Cover
8.1
The penthouse was too quiet on Tuesday nights. Camden had been at 'business dinners' three times this week. I'd stopped asking which restaurant. I'd stopped a lot of things. I sat on the living room floor with my back against the couch, a glass of red wine going warm on the coffee table beside me. The city hummed forty floors below. I'd turned off the overhead lights an hour ago and hadn't bothered turning them back on. The glow from the skyline was enough. It usually was. My phone buzzed.