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Rejected by the Alpha, Claimed by the King Novel Cover

Rejected by the Alpha, Claimed by the King

I was reviewing the pack's mind-link communications when I felt it—that familiar tingle of connection that meant someone was using the private channel reserved for pack leadership. My fingers froze over the crystal communication stone as Dahlia's voice filtered through, not meant for my ears but impossible to ignore when she was broadcasting so loudly. "Alpha, I can't wait for our private training session tonight," her voice purred through the link. "I've been practicing those moves you showed me last time. I think I'm finally ready to take it to the next level." There was a pause, and then her voice again, lower this time. "Our special connection feels stronger every day. It's like the Moon Goddess herself is pulling us together." My stomach twisted into knots as I sat frozen at my desk. The mind-link was supposed to be sacred—reserved for pack emergencies and official business. Not for... this.
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Chapter 3

The morning sun had barely crested the horizon when the mind-link exploded with activity. Urgent messages flooded the pack channel, voices overlapping in panic.

"Luna Kenna attacked the Omega!" someone shouted through the link.

"She used her Luna aura!" another voice added. "Dahlia's badly hurt!"

My blood ran cold as I bolted from my bed, my wolf instantly alert. "What's happening?" I demanded, reaching for my robe.

Before anyone could answer, I felt it—the unmistakable pull of my Luna authority being questioned. Someone was challenging my position, and not just anyone.

I raced outside to find a crowd already gathering at the edge of our territory. Pack members parted silently as I approached, their eyes wide with shock and something else—judgment.

In the center of the clearing lay Dahlia, her body curled in a protective ball, face streaked with tears and dirt. Blood trickled from a small cut on her forehead, and her clothes were torn strategically—enough to look damaged but not enough to appear staged.

"What happened here?" I asked, keeping my voice steady despite my racing heart.

Dahlia whimpered, pressing herself deeper into the ground. "She—she came at me," she whispered, her voice breaking perfectly. "Said I was trying to take her place. Then her Luna aura just—it hit me like a physical blow."

Two younger pack members stepped forward hesitantly. "We saw it," one of them offered, not meeting my eyes. "Luna Kenna's aura flared. It knocked Dahlia back several feet."

My wolf snarled in disbelief. I hadn't even been near the territory boundary this morning.

"That's impossible," I said firmly. "I was in my quarters until five minutes ago."

"But we saw you," the second witness insisted, pointing to the ground where footprints led from the forest edge to where Dahlia lay. "Your scent is all over the place."

Of course it was. These prints had been made days ago during my morning runs.

Before I could respond, a familiar presence filled the clearing. Archie arrived, his Alpha aura pulsing with authority and concern. My heart leapt—surely he would see through this charade.

But he didn't even look at me.

"Dahlia," he breathed, dropping to his knees beside her. "Are you hurt? Tell me what happened."

His hands gently brushed the dirt from her face, his touch tender in a way he hadn't shown me in months.

"I was just walking," she sobbed, clinging to him. "Luna Kenna appeared from nowhere and—and her aura attacked me. She said terrible things, Alpha. About us. About what we share."

Archie's jaw tightened, his eyes flashing dangerously—not at her lies, but at me.

"Archie," I started, stepping forward. "You can't possibly believe—"

"Enough!" he roared, his Alpha tone making several pack members flinch. "Can't you see she's injured?"

Without another word, he gathered Dahlia in his arms, cradling her against his chest like precious cargo.

"Take her to the pack hospital," he ordered Beta Ryan. "Get Healer Morris immediately."

"Archie," I tried again, reaching for our mate bond. "This is obviously staged. Look at the evidence—"

He turned to me, his eyes cold and distant. "Control yourself, Kenna. Your jealousy is becoming a liability to this pack."

The words cut deeper than any physical wound could have. My wolf howled in anguish as another crack formed in our bond.

As Archie carried Dahlia away, her head nestled against his shoulder, I felt something inside me harden. Another moon stone joined the collection that night—the ninety-eighth.

But Dahlia wasn't finished.

By evening, her face was everywhere—on pack communications, on werewolf social networks, even reaching neighboring territories. Tearful videos showed her bandaged and broken, her voice trembling as she detailed my "unstable" behavior.

"The Luna has been threatening me for months," she claimed to the camera, her eyes wide with practiced fear. "But I never thought she'd actually attack me."

The comments section exploded with outrage directed at me.

But it was her next post that made my blood freeze.

"I was going to wait," she said softly to the camera, her hand resting protectively over her stomach. "But with everything happening... I need to tell the truth."

She held up what appeared to be a medical report, the Silvermoon Pack seal visible in the corner.

"I'm carrying Alpha Archie's heir," she announced, tears streaming down her face. "And Luna Kenna knows it. That's why she's been trying to eliminate me."

My phone buzzed incessantly as pack members and neighboring Alphas demanded explanations. Doctored pregnancy tests appeared alongside the medical report—all bearing official pack seals that I knew had never been authorized.

"She's lying," I whispered to Emma as we sat alone in our quarters, but the damage was already spreading like wildfire.

My wolf retreated deeper into my consciousness, preparing for what was to come. Two more stones remained before freedom—before rejection.

But as I watched Dahlia's carefully orchestrated performance unfold across every screen in the territory, I wondered if freedom would be enough to heal what she had broken.

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