Rejected the Heir, Claimed by the Alpha King

Liv POV The bass from the Grand Ballroom throbbed against my temples, but it was the suffocating weight of a hundred powerful predators that made it hard to breathe. The Unity Celebration was supposed to be my fairy tale. Instead, surrounded by the elite Warriors and Alphas of the Blackwood and Stone packs, I was painfully reminded of what I truly was: a *wolfless* Omega. I needed air. Slipping away from the crystal chandeliers and the overwhelming clash of aggressive pheromones, I hurried down the hushed, carpeted hallway toward the Alpha's Suite. But as I neared the heavy oak door, my steps faltered. A scent leaked into the corridor. Aaron’s familiar *sunlit grass and musk*—the scent of my fiancé—was entirely smothered by a sickeningly sweet, heavy wave of *gardenia*. Vivienne. My stepsister. A soft, breathless moan echoed through the slight crack in the door. My blood turned to ice. Trembling, I pushed the wood just a fraction of an inch wider. The luxurious suite blurred, narrowing down to the tangled limbs on the edge of the bed. My fiancé, the future Alpha of the Blackwood Pack, was buried deep between the legs of the Stone Pack’s platinum-blonde princess. *"You're so lucky to be the future Luna, Liv,"* Vivienne’s saccharine voice echoed in my memory, twisting into a venomous sneer. A violent wave of nausea hit me. I didn't scream. I couldn't. My world simply shattered into jagged, bleeding pieces. I stumbled blindly back toward the ballroom, my chest heaving. The glittering lights now looked like mocking eyes. Before I could reach the exit doors, two imposing figures blocked my path. Eleonora and Beatrice, the Elders of the Blackwood Pack. "You look terribly pale, dear," Eleonora purred, her gaze raking over my trembling frame with thinly veiled disdain. "Nerves are natural. It is a profound blessing from the Moon Goddess for a... *wolfless Omega* to join our ranks." Beatrice took a slow sip of her champagne. "Just remember your duty, Olivia. Bear strong heirs for the Pack, blend into our traditions, and you will be tolerated. You truly are lucky." Lucky. The word tasted like ash in my mouth. I wasn't a bride to them, nor to Aaron. I was a pathetic, broken thing. A breeding mare they pitied. I couldn't stay in this gilded cage for another second. Snatching a full bottle of amber whiskey from a passing waiter's tray, I bolted for the only sanctuary left—the roof. The Moonlit Ledge was freezing. The biting night wind whipped my brown hair across my face as I marched right to the glass railing. Below me, the city lights blurred into a dizzying abyss. Above me, the moon hung cruel and indifferent. I tipped the bottle back, letting the liquid fire burn down my throat, and let out a raw, agonizing scream that tore at my vocal cords. The alcohol, combined with the crushing weight of the double betrayal, spun my reality off its axis. My heel caught on the slick marble edge. The world violently tilted. I tipped backward, the bottle slipping from my numb fingers as gravity claimed me. I was falling into the dark. Before the scream could even leave my lips, a pair of arms—hard and unyielding as steel—snapped around my waist. They violently jerked me back from the edge, crushing me against a wall of solid muscle. The exact second his skin brushed mine, a terrifying, intoxicating jolt of electricity shot straight to my core. My breath hitched. I was instantly enveloped in an overwhelming scent of *winter-bitten cedar and ancient leather*. It was the most dominant, predatory scent I had ever encountered, yet it wrapped around my shattered soul like a warm blanket, making me feel inexplicably, completely safe. Trembling, my heart hammering against my ribs, I tilted my tear-streaked face up. I found myself staring into a pair of intense, steel-gray eyes that seemed to hold the weight of the world.