The Alpha King’s Forbidden Mate

— Sera —

The group chat wouldn't stop buzzing. Message after message popped up on my screen — each one filthier than the last.

All of them were about me.

The useless Omega.

Cole's pity fuck.

A plaything to warm his bed before Talia comes back.

Jake: yo bro Talia just dropped that Nightwood clown she was with. she's back. u know what that means lmaooo

Nate: LMAOOO don't tell me u actually caught feelings for that little Omega?? she doesn't even have a wolf wtf are u doing

Jake: wait wait wait — Cole don't drop her yet!! make her try those new positions first dawg. i'm dead serious. do it for the boys

Nate: it's TALIA. THE Talia. ur not going soft over some pathetic crybaby Omega are u?? she literally has no wolf lol

Cole finally replied.

Cole: relax. she's nothing. easier than a doll.

And then the others lost it.

Jake: LMAOOO king behavior fr

Dev: bro said easier than a doll💀💀💀

Nate: get that shit out of ur system before Talia's back tho. she's on a whole different level

And then came the photos.

My photos.

Blurred faces, pixelated skin, but I could tell — it was me. Everyone could.

Jake: bro... okay she's actually kinda hot ngl 👀

Dev: Cole u been holding out on us wtf

Cole: tried that position last night. seven times. she passed out lol. but damn Omegas really are something else

Jake: SEVEN??? bro what the actual fuck 💀

Dev: respect. actual respect.

Nate: get every last drop before Talia comes home king. she's too good for this shit

My throat tightened until I thought I'd choke.

Seven times.

I pressed the phone against my chest, as if I could crush the messages, crush the sound of their laughter, crush the part of me that still loved him.

But the silence that followed was worse.

There was no one to call, no one to scream to. My father was off chasing another she-wolf, still trying to have an Alpha son. My mother was long gone. And Cole — the only person I'd ever trusted — was the one who'd destroyed me.

Something inside me went very still.

Like the part of me that cared about surviving had finally snapped.

I used to think I'd already hit rock bottom.

When my fated mate rejected me at eighteen, I thought that was it — the end of my capacity to feel pain. He said the words in front of everyone, didn't even flinch. No wolf, no worth. I shut off everything after that — love, romance, even the smallest hope that I could be wanted.

I told myself I'd survive by being useful. I studied medicine, worked harder than anyone, tried to earn a sliver of respect from a pack that thought I was a waste of air.

And then Cole came along.

The golden Alpha who didn't laugh at me. Who sat in my healing classes even though Alphas never did. Who bled on purpose so I could practice.

He said his wolf was strong enough for both of us.

He made me believe I wasn't broken.

Now I watched his words — those same hands that held me, now typing filth about me for his friends to laugh at.

I grabbed my keys and walked out, leaving the phone still buzzing on the bed.

By the time I reached the nearest bar, my tears had dried into something colder.

* * *

The place reeked of sweat, liquor, and testosterone. I downed a shot, then another, hoping the burn in my throat could erase the burn in my chest.

That's when I heard it.

"yo — is that Cole's little Omega?"

"damn bro yeah it is. look at her."

"shit, she's actually kinda fine in person. Cole's been keeping her all to himself huh"

"bro I'd hit. no cap."

I looked up.

Cole's friends.

The ones who used to greet me with polite smiles at parties. The ones I'd thought were decent.

Cole always said I was imagining things when I caught that look in their eyes. Said I was too sensitive. Too paranoid.

Now I knew I wasn't crazy.

I'd never been crazy.

That look — they'd had it the whole time. Like I was something on a screen they could pause and rewind whenever they felt like it.

I felt sick. I drank until the room spun.

Then, through the haze, Cole appeared. His face was soft, his voice sweet.

"You've been waiting too long for me, haven't you? I'm sorry, my Luna. Let me make it up to you tonight."

He kissed my ear, his breath hot and familiar.

For a moment, I almost let myself fall for it again.

Maybe I wanted to believe the lie one last time.

The bar filled with whistles when he lifted me into his arms, carrying me through a door I hadn't noticed before — a private room plastered with posters of naked bodies in impossible poses.

"Sweetheart," he said, smiling that smile I used to love, "you're the commander tonight. Pick a position, and I'll make it happen."

And for a heartbeat, I wished I were dead.