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The Rejected Omega Is Actually The White Wolf Novel Cover

The Rejected Omega Is Actually The White Wolf

I jumped into the freezing Hudson River. Not to kill myself, but to save the only thing I had left—my father's Medal of Valor, which Krystal had thrown into the water like a stick for a dog. I clawed my way up the muddy bank, lungs burning, shivering violently. I looked up at the villa balcony, hoping my Fated Mate, Jaxon, would be looking for me. He wasn't. He was wrapping his arms around Krystal, watching the artificial meteor shower he had arranged just for her. "Anything for you, my love," he said, completely forgetting I was drowning in the dark below. For three years, I believed I had "Wolf Sickness." I took the pills he sent, grateful for his care. But the pills were poison. Wolfsbane. Designed to keep me weak, docile, and unable to shift, just so he could replace me with a more powerful Luna. He called me a liability. He watched his mistress run me over with her Porsche, ordered his guards to silence me, and let her dogs tear my skin. Now, clutching the cold medal, the final thread of our bond snapped. I didn't go back to the pack house. I dragged my broken body to the airport and sent one final text. "I, Alina Phillips, reject you, Jaxon Francis." I mailed him the medical report proving he had been poisoning his own mate, and then I disappeared. By the time he realizes what he's done, the Alina he knew will be dead.
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Chapter 3

Alina POV:

I woke to the smell of antiseptic. The Alpha Command left a bitter taste in my mouth.

Two days later, Jaxon discharged me.

"Get dressed," he said, tossing a garment bag. "We have an appearance to make."

"I can barely walk."

"It's the Pack Anniversary. Rumors are spreading that I'm mistreating my father's savior's daughter. You will come, smile, and show everyone you are fine."

The bag contained a grey dress. Dull. Invisible. An Omega's dress.

The ballroom glittered with crystal and gold. I stood in the corner, leaning on a cane, a ghost at my own funeral.

Jaxon stood center stage with Krystal. She wore a scarlet gown that hugged every curve.

"Tonight, I celebrate the future," Jaxon announced.

The screen behind them flickered. A montage played: Jaxon and Krystal in Paris, on a yacht, hiking trails my father showed me. Places he promised to take me.

The Mate Bond bled. A physical tearing sensation.

I limped to the garden for air. My mother's Irises were gone. Replaced by rows of white roses.

"Do you like the renovation?"

Krystal stood there, holding champagne. Flanking her were two massive dogs-Rogue-blood hounds from the Nexus labs. Glowing green eyes, rippling muscles.

"You destroyed my mother's garden," I whispered.

"I improved it." She snapped her fingers. "Attack."

The hounds lunged.

I screamed, raising my cane. Useless. The first beast slammed me into the rose bushes. Thorns tore my skin. Jaws clamped on my injured leg.

"Jaxon! Help!"

The patio doors flew open. Jaxon rushed out.

"Krystal!" he shouted.

He saw us. Me, bleeding on the ground. Krystal standing feet away, feigning terror.

"Jaxon, help me!" Krystal screamed, dropping her glass. "The dogs went crazy! She provoked them!"

Jaxon didn't hesitate. He ran to her.

He shielded Krystal, turning his back on me.

"Get them off!" I sobbed. The hound's teeth sank deeper. Burning spread through my veins. Wolfsbane-laced saliva.

Security finally tranquilized the beasts.

I lay in the dirt, blood staining the white roses red. Jaxon was checking Krystal for scratches she didn't have.

"Jaxon..."

He looked at me with annoyance. "Get her to the infirmary. And clean up this mess. It's ruining the party."

He kissed Krystal's forehead.

The Jaxon I loved died three years ago. This man was a monster.

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