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Rejecting the Alpha Who Ruined Me Novel Cover

Rejecting the Alpha Who Ruined Me

The vocal cords of a Gamma wolf are delicate things, like spiderwebs made of gristle and magic. One slip of my hand, and this warrior would never howl at the moon again. "Suction," I ordered, my voice flat and steady. My hands moved with a precision that had taken me eight years to master. A faint, golden glow seeped from my fingertips—my aura, warm and stabilizing—knitting the shredded tissue back together. The Gamma on the table, a victim of a border skirmish, let out a soft, unconscious whine as the pain receded. I didn't look at his face. I never looked at their faces if I could help it. Faces were personal. Faces reminded me of what I had lost.
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Chapter 2

“Get him prepped. Now.”

My voice cracked like a whip across the trauma bay. The nurses scrambled, their movements a blur of blue scrubs and silver instruments, but I stood still for a heartbeat, my hands trembling under the stream of hot water at the scrub sink. I wasn’t shaking from fear. I was shaking from the phantom sensation of Julian’s fingers on my arm. It felt like a brand, a searing reminder of a bond I had spent eight years trying to cauterize.

I shut off the tap, took a deep breath that smelled of antiseptic and ozone, and pushed through the double doors into the Operating Theater.

Leo lay on the table, a small, fragile thing amidst the beeping machinery. The violet light of his unstable shift pulsed beneath his skin, erratic and violent, threatening to tear his little body apart from the inside out. Genetic Shift Fracture. It was a death sentence in ninety percent of cases. But ninety percent of cases didn't have me.

I didn't need a scalpel. Not yet.

I placed my hands hovering inches above the boy's chest. “lights down,” I ordered.

The room plunged into semi-darkness, illuminated only by the monitors and the terrifying violet glow of the dying boy. I closed my eyes and reached into the well of power I had suppressed for so long. When I opened them, the room gasped.

Golden light poured from my palms. It wasn't a trickle; it was a river. It spooled out like liquid silk, diving into Leo's chest, wrapping around his fracturing bones and soothing his chaotic wolf spirit. This was the Golden Thread—the purest form of a Healer’s aura.

I glanced up at the observation deck. Through the thick glass, Julian stood paralyzed. His hands were pressed against the pane, his eyes wide and unblinking. He was watching the gold flow from me, and I saw the realization hit him like a physical blow.

He had seen this exhaustion on my face before, years ago during his Alpha Trials. He had called me weak then. He had called me an Omega who couldn't keep up. Now, watching me pour my life force into his son, he finally understood. I hadn't been weak. I had been secretly healing him, night after night, draining myself so he could shine.

The realization seemed to stagger him. He took a half-step back, his face draining of color as the machinery beeped a steady, rhythmic cadence. Leo’s violet light faded, replaced by the calm, steady hum of my gold.

“Stable,” I whispered, sagging slightly against the table. “He’s stable.”

***

An hour later, I sat in my office, the adrenaline crash leaving me hollow. I was staring at the wall, trying to summon the energy to change out of my scrubs, when the door opened.

I didn't need to look up to know who it was. The air in the room grew heavy, charged with the scent of rain and regret.

“I didn't say you could enter,” I said, picking up a file just to have something to do with my hands.

Julian didn't leave. He walked to my desk, his boots heavy on the linoleum. He placed a slip of paper on the wood surface. It was a check.

“Five million dollars,” he said, his voice low, vibrating with that Alpha tone he used to command his pack. “And a contract. I’m offering you the position of Head Healer at the Silver Lake Pack.”

I looked at the check. The zeros seemed to mock me. Then I looked at him. He stood tall, shoulders squared, trying to buy his way out of guilt. He thought he was saving me. He thought he was plucking a rogue from the gutter.

“You think,” I said softly, standing up, “that you can buy me?”

“It’s a generous offer, Anna. You’re a rogue. You have no protection here. Come home, and I’ll ensure you’re taken care of. You’ve… improved.”

*Improved.* The word tasted like bile.

I picked up the check. Julian’s chest puffed out slightly, expecting gratitude. Expecting submission.

Slowly, deliberately, I tore the check down the middle. Then again. And again. I let the confetti pieces rain down into the trash can between us.

“My forgiveness is not for sale, Alpha Cole,” I said, my voice turning to steel. “And neither is my freedom. I am not a rogue in need of a savior. I am the best Healer on this coast, and I don't need your charity. Get out of my office.”

Julian’s jaw tightened, a flash of anger warring with the shame in his eyes. But before he could growl a command, my pager buzzed.

*Recovery Ward 4. Urgent.*

I pushed past him, not caring if my shoulder checked his.

***

The Recovery Ward was in chaos. Nurses were backing away, terrified.

Kori stood by Leo’s bed. Her hair was disheveled, her eyes wild and bloodshot. She was shaking, vibrating with a manic energy that smelled of sour milk and hysteria.

“Where is he?” she shrieked as I entered. “Where is Julian? He’s been gone too long!”

“He’s coming,” I said calmly, stepping forward. “Kori, step away from the patient.”

She whipped her head toward me, her lip curling. “You,” she spat. “This is your fault. You did something to him! You poisoned my son to get back at me!”

She snatched a scalpel from the bedside tray. The metal glinted under the fluorescent lights. “Stay back! I won't let you kill him!”

She wasn't protecting Leo; she was using him as a shield for her own insecurity. She waved the blade erratically, the tip inches from the IV line that was keeping her son alive.

I didn't freeze. I didn't beg. I moved.

“You are unfit to be in this room,” I stated cold and flat.

Kori lunged, slashing the scalpel through the air. “I am the Luna!”

I sidestepped the clumsy strike effortlessly. I caught her wrist in a vice grip, my thumb digging into the pressure point between her tendons. Her hand spasmed, and the scalpel clattered to the floor.

She screamed, more in shock than pain, but I didn't let go. I spun her around, pinning her arm behind her back, and with my free hand, I grabbed the sedative injector from the crash cart.

“Not in my hospital,” I whispered in her ear.

I jammed the injector into her neck and depressed the plunger.

Kori slumped instantly, her weight dead in my arms. I lowered her to the floor just as Julian burst through the doors, his eyes wide with horror at the sight of his unconscious mate at my feet.

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