Too Late, My Alpha: You Killed Me
My sister, the pack's beloved future Luna, was dying of kidney failure.
Axel, the Supreme Alpha and the man I had secretly loved my entire life, used his Alpha Command to force the pen into my trembling hand.
"Sign the papers, Jana," he growled, his eyes glowing with a predatory red light. "Stop being selfish. Kyleigh needs a transplant, and you are the only match."
I tried to beg. I tried to tell him that I couldn't survive the surgery.
I tried to tell him that I had already secretly donated a kidney to our father five years ago—a sacrifice my sister had claimed credit for.
But Axel threw a stack of falsified medical scans in my face.
"Stop lying to save your own skin," he spat. "You are a useless, Wolfless Omega. This is your only chance to be of value to this pack."
He didn't know that Kyleigh had been poisoning me with Wolfsbane for a decade to suppress my inner White Wolf.
He didn't know that the anesthesia wouldn't work on my poisoned body.
I felt every inch of the silver scalpel as they cut me open to harvest my only remaining kidney.
I died on that table, listening to the man I loved call me dramatic.
But death was not the end. My spirit floated above the chaos, watching as the surgeon's face turned pale with horror.
"She only had one!" the doctor screamed, holding up the blackened organ. "Alpha, look at the old scars! We just killed her!"
Only after my heart stopped did the scent-masking drugs fade.
Axel fell to his knees in the blood-soaked room, finally smelling the scent of rain and pine he had been searching for his whole life.
He realized he had just butchered his true mate to save a liar.
"Jana?" he howled, clawing at his chest.
But I was already gone.
Chapters
Share
Chapter 6
Axel POV:
The doctor's words hit the reinforced glass of the observation room like a physical blow. For a second, I couldn't process them. They were just noise, meaningless and insane.
"That's impossible," I snarled into the intercom, my fist clenching. "I saw her medical report myself. It was flawless. She's lying again, trying to get out of it."
Even as I said it, a cold dread began to coil in my gut.
"Save the kidney she *does* have," I commanded, my voice dropping to a low growl. "Kyleigh needs it. I don't care what you have to do."
Inside the operating room, the frantic movements stopped. The nurses and doctors stepped back from the table, their shoulders slumped in defeat. A nurse I didn't know made a note on a chart and then, with a final, somber gesture, pulled a white sheet up over Jana's face.
The flatline tone was finally silenced. The silence was worse.
And then, something changed.
A scent.
It was faint at first, cutting through the sterile, antiseptic smell of the hospital. It slipped through the vents, under the door, a fragrance so pure and intoxicating it defied description. Rain on pine needles after a drought. The clean, crisp air of a mountain peak at dawn. It was the scent my wolf had been searching for, starving for, my entire life.
It was the scent of my Mate.
My wolf, the beast that had been restless and discontented for years, rose up within me with a roar of pure, unadulterated joy. *Mate! She is here! Our Mate!*
My human mind reeled, fighting it. *No. Impossible. Kyleigh is my mate.*
But my body didn't lie. Every cell, every nerve ending, vibrated in response to that scent. A profound sense of rightness, of coming home, washed over me, so powerful it buckled my knees. This was what I had been missing. This was the other half of my soul.
The scent was coming from the operating room.
From *her*.
Suddenly, I understood. The years of feeling… incomplete. The subtle, cloying sweetness of Kyleigh's perfume that pleased my senses but never, ever touched my soul. The drugs Kyleigh had her on, supposedly for anxiety. They weren't for anxiety. They were to mask this. To hide her from me.
Dr. Sanchez's frantic words echoed in my head. *She only has one!*
The scent of my true Mate, released only in death.
The two facts collided in my brain with the force of a supernova, obliterating everything I thought I knew. The truth was a physical agony. My wolf, recognizing that our Mate was found only to be lost in the same breath, let out a howl of such profound grief and rage that the lights in the hallway flickered. The Alpha power inside me surged, a tidal wave of pain looking for a release.
My mind was screaming *no*, but my body was already moving.
My fist shot out, connecting with the observation window. The reinforced glass, designed to stop a bullet, spiderwebbed under the force of my blow. I hit it again, and it shattered, exploding inward in a shower of glittering shards.
The Beta guards at the door flinched back, their eyes wide with terror at my uncontrolled display of power.
I ignored the blood streaming from my knuckles. I ignored their shouts. I launched myself through the broken window, landing in a crouch inside the operating room.
I had to see her. I had to breathe her in. I had to know for sure.
My wolf was screaming a single, desperate plea.
*Tell me it's not true.*
Keep Reading
The story is getting intense! Switch to App to
Unlock All Chapters
You may also like
8.6
In my past life, the Cerberus strain leaked, turning the world into a blood-soaked hell of rotting flesh and mutated monsters.
I thought my boyfriend Declan and my best friend Hailee would have my back as we fled the quarantine zone.
Instead, when the surging crowd of the infected cornered us, they didn't hesitate.
They shoved me backward into the horde just to buy themselves three seconds to run.
As I fell into the mud, I saw them fleeing without a single backward glance.
"She's dead weight anyway!" Hailee screamed.
"Just keep running, she'll distract them!" Declan yelled back.
I was torn apart, feeling the agonizing tear of rotting teeth sinking into my neck and the hot spray of my own blood.
Before the apocalypse, my greedy uncle had locked away my ten-million-dollar trust fund, leaving me with nothing but a fake boyfriend who only wanted me for my money.
Until my last breath, I couldn't understand how the people I loved most could trade my life for a head start.
Why did I blindly trust them? Why didn't I see through their perfectly choreographed lies?
Opening my eyes again, the stench of decaying flesh vanished, replaced by the sterile smell of my college dorm room.
Hailee and Declan were standing over my bed, faking tears of concern over my meningitis fever.
I was back exactly seven days before the world ended, and my spatial vault ability had come back with me.
This time, I'm extorting my uncle for every cent, hoarding the city's supplies, and leaving them all to rot.
9.0
I died alone in the medical wing giving birth to our son.
"Tell her to calm down and stop the theatrics."
Those were the last words my mate, the Alpha, said about me while I bled out.
Instead of passing on, my soul was tethered to the packhouse. I was forced to watch my best friend Seraphina seamlessly step into my life, taking my baby and my husband before my body was even cold.
To secure her place, she planted my blood-soaked birthing blanket in the woods to frame me for faking my own kidnapping.
Ryker swallowed her lies completely. He refused to send a search party, telling the entire pack my disappearance was just a pathetic plea for attention and money.
As a helpless ghost, I watched Seraphina brainwash my one-year-old son into calling her his mother and teach him to joyfully trample my beloved garden.
"Bad mommy ran away. Don't love Kaelen."
Hearing my own child parrot those venomous words was a dagger to my soul.
Whenever anyone questioned my absence, Ryker fiercely defended her, dismissing the desperate warnings of my loyal friends and his own elders.
The man I loved and died for treated my memory like a malicious joke, grateful for an excuse to replace me while living with my murderer.
But when Seraphina's mask finally slipped, and the horrifying truth of my death crashed down on him, it was far too late.
Seeing him crumble in agonizing regret brought me no comfort.
I no longer wanted his love or his desperate apologies.
Now, I only wanted his absolute ruin.
9.3
Halie woke up to a sharp pain and a terrifying reality. She was in a new body, her face covered in a hideous web of scars, and her spiritual power reduced to a pathetic D-Class.
Before she could even process the memories of being framed, her bedroom doors were violently kicked open.
Her sister Seraphina sauntered in with a venomous sneer, followed closely by Halie's S-Class fiancé, Jett.
"Look at the disgrace of the Avila family. What a waste," Seraphina mocked, throwing a mirror at her bed.
"I can't be tied to a cripple. As an S-Class, I have to break our engagement," Jett added, his gaze full of disgust.
The nightmare didn't stop there. Her father called, screaming about how she had shamed the family name. He officially stripped her of her inheritance, froze all her accounts, and exiled her to the decaying Southern District to rot.
To make matters worse, a cold, mechanical voice suddenly echoed in her skull, warning her of an impending genetic collapse. Without an immediate energy infusion, she would face total organ failure in thirty days.
A ruined face, a treacherous family, a world that wanted her dead, and a literal death clock ticking in her brain. The original owner had died in absolute despair, a tragic victim of sheer cruelty.
But if they thought she would just sit there and die, they were severely mistaken.
Armed with a mysterious system and her brilliant scientist mind from her past life, Halie packed her bags. She chose the craziest survival quest: head to the slums, find the exiled, sterile S-Class "madman" Coleman, and cure him to harvest his life energy. It was time to start her counterattack.
9.2
At the absolute summit of her pop-star career, the stage collapsed beneath Catherine's feet, plunging her into a mechanical black hole.
When she opened her eyes, she wasn't in a hospital, but a savage, primitive forest.
Before a fire-breathing beast could tear her apart, a massive black snake crushed it with a single strike.
The terrifying serpent then transformed into Amon, a towering, heavily scarred man with golden slitted eyes, who swore his life to protect her.
He brought her to his tribe, but instead of safety, they were met with ravenous hunger and disgust.
The tribe's males stared at Catherine's fragile human body like a rare breeding prize, while treating Amon like garbage.
"He's a cursed, cold-blooded freak! His rut will tear you to pieces!"
The Chief sneered, pointing a thick, accusing finger at Amon.
"By tribal law, you must mate with our strongest tiger and bear shifters to give us powerful cubs!"
Humiliated, Amon's broad shoulders slumped, his fists trembling in suffocating shame as he prepared to back away.
Catherine's heart pounded with fierce, burning anger.
When she was about to be eaten, Amon was the only one who bled for her.
Where were these arrogant bullies then? Why should she let them treat her savior like a monster?
As the tribe's strongest warriors swarmed forward to claim her, Catherine stepped directly in front of Amon's lethal claws.
"I don't need any of you," she declared, her voice cutting through the chaos.
"I will mate with Amon and take his beast mark today!"
8.2
To save my brother's life, I married a dead billionaire.
My new home was a freezing, high-tech mausoleum where I was ordered to hold a year-long vigil beside Byron Hyde's cryogenic pod.
But I wasn't alone in the dark.
Every night, a terrifying shadow smelling of whiskey and sandalwood pinned me to my narrow bed.
It tore my clothes and brutally claimed my body, leaving me bruised and trembling until dawn.
When I begged the housekeeper for help, showing her my torn skin, she just smiled cruelly.
"It seems the master's spirit has accepted you."
I thought I was being haunted by a vengeful ghost, until Byron's arrogant nephew broke into the tomb to assault me.
His tampering triggered the life-support system, and the heavy lid of the pod hissed open.
Byron Hyde sat up, his eyes lethal and his skin shockingly warm.
He was alive.
Looking at his broad shoulders, I caught the faint scent of whiskey and sandalwood.
The horrific truth hit me like a physical blow.
My nightly tormentor wasn't a ghost. It was my living, breathing husband.
When I confronted him, his eyes were cold and clinical.
"That was a necessary test. I had to know if my wife would break."
A white-hot rage choked me, but I didn't scream or run.
He slipped the priceless, heavy sapphire of the family matriarch onto my finger, offering me absolute power over the treacherous relatives who wanted us both dead.
To fight a monster, you can't be a victim.
I looked into his deep, dangerous eyes and accepted the ring.
If this was a cage, allying with the keeper was the only way to find the key.
9.7
Eighteen months ago, the man I loved shattered my heart, claiming everything between us was a mistake. Now, he's back, a ghost of his former self, a rookie tryout in my pro esports team. And I will make him regret crawling back.
Clifton, captain of a legendary esports team, was secretly battling a severe wrist injury that threatened his career, every match a fight against his own body. He pushed through the pain, ignoring doctors' warnings, desperate to maintain his god-like status.
His world was already on the edge, but nothing prepared him for seeing Justice Terry again in the team basement. Justice, pale and trembling, his eyes wide with naked terror, was now a rookie tryout.
Clifton had spent a year and a half trying to forget that rainy Chicago alley, the raw revulsion in Justice's eyes, the whispered "it wasn't real" that had left him heartbroken. Justice had vanished, and Clifton had erased every trace. Now, the boy who once looked at him like he was the sun was back, flinching at his touch, displaying a deep, primal fear. Amidst sponsor pressure and whispers of being "washed," Clifton saw Justice's return as a chance for vengeance. He publicly humiliated Justice on a live stream, forcing him into a suicide mission, then coldly benched him.
Yet, the satisfaction never came. Instead, a hollow emptiness and a torrent of questions: What had truly happened in the past? Why was Justice here, and what trauma had carved such fear into his bones?
Clifton, unwilling to be fooled again, swore to uncover every secret and every lie. He would force Justice to explain why he had returned, even if it meant tearing down everything they both had left.