Rejected by the False Mate, Claimed by the Alpha King

Seraphina POV:

A low, grating sound issued from Zander's throat, the noise of a predator whose authority had been questioned. He hated being ignored, especially by an Omega who was supposed to be submissive to his every whim.

"Are you deaf, Seraphina?" he snapped, stepping into my line of sight.

I finally raised my head and looked at him. The past decade did not flash before my eyes; instead, it settled upon me like a shroud. I saw the condescension in the slight downward tilt of his chin, the neglect in the worn leather of his tunic that I had not mended, the cruelty in a small, almost imperceptible scar beside his lip. For the first time, I saw not the edifice of a hero he had constructed, but the pathetic cracks in its foundation—a weak, posturing man terrified of being exposed.

Yet, looking at his angry face now, I felt absolutely nothing. Instead, my body betrayed me, flushing with a sudden, intense heat that had nothing to do with him. My senses were entirely consumed by the memory of another man.

I remembered the scent of a winter storm mixed with wild berries. I remembered the electric touch that had sent a jolt of pure, terrifying pleasure down my spine, bypassing all my trauma.

I stood up slowly, my posture straight and unyielding. I did not lower my eyes, meeting his gaze with a cold, steady calm that made him step back in confusion.

"Zander," I said, my voice completely devoid of emotion.

I reached into the pocket of my dress and pulled out a thick roll of parchment sealed with red wax.

"This was drafted by the Pack Elders this morning," I explained, holding it out to him. "It is the official dissolution of our mating contract. Bleed on it and sign it."

An unmasked flicker of panic constricted the pupils of his eyes, a brief, genuine terror, before his jaw went slack with disbelief.

I did not wait for his reaction. I walked past him toward the heavy oak doors, sitting on the bench to pull on my leather riding boots. As I passed him, the nauseating, cheap floral scent of Daphne clung heavily to his cloak.

"Oh, by the way," I said, offering him a polite, empty smile. "That precious moonflower you planted in the courtyard for her? I pulled it up by the roots."

Zander's face turned a violent shade of red.

"I am leaving," I continued, adjusting the laces of my boots. "I want none of your gold, none of your clothes. I am only taking Barnaby."

Barnaby was my fourteen-year-old moon-dog, a weak and elderly spirit beast I had raised since he was a pup.

Zander burst into a fit of harsh, mocking laughter. He closed the distance between us, trying to use his physical size to intimidate me.

"You are a discarded Omega with no pack protection and no territory!" he spat, his breath smelling of stale ale. "If you walk out into that forest, the wild beasts will tear you apart before nightfall."

He looked at my flushed cheeks and rolled his eyes, completely misunderstanding my physical state.

"You are just throwing a tantrum because your pre-heat fever is making you delusional," he muttered, waving his hand dismissively. He turned his back on me, grabbing his cloak again. "I will have the servants send some gold coins to your room. Buy yourself something pretty and calm down."

Without waiting for my answer, he pushed the doors open. He mounted his black horse in the courtyard, riding off in a hurry to find Daphne.

I watched him disappear into the thick fog, a cold smile touching my lips. He had no idea that the pups inside me were not his—and that their true father was the most powerful Alpha on the continent. He would learn soon enough.