The Alpha's Regret: Rejecting His Fated White Wolf Mate

Coleen POV:

The Wellington steak on the long mahogany table had turned completely cold.

On the far wall, the pendulum clock gave a dull, rhythmic thud as both hands met at midnight.

I picked up the silver-plated fork to cut into the hardened meat, but my wrist trembled with exhaustion. The fork slipped from my fingers, clattering sharply against the bone china plate.

I took a slow breath and reached inward, pushing my mental energy through our mate-bond.

Hazen, where are you?

My thoughts slammed directly into an icy, impenetrable mental wall. He had blocked our link completely.

A sharp cramp twisted in my chest. Inside me, my weak Omega wolf let out a desolate whimper, desperate for a sliver of warmth from her Alpha, but met only with dead silence. As an Omega whose family pack had crumbled into bankruptcy three years ago, I had spent every day in the Sharp Pack trying to earn his respect, yet I remained an outsider.

I pushed my chair back and stood up. My knees were stiff from hours of waiting, and I nearly stumbled onto the Persian rug.

Gripping the edge of the table, I fought down a surge of nausea and walked toward the floor-to-ceiling windows.

I pressed my palm against the glass. Below me lay the sprawling territory of the Sharp Pack, glowing with city lights and corporate towers.

A burst of fireworks exploded in the night sky. It was the Moon Goddess festival, and tonight was our third anniversary of sealing the mate-bond.

I pulled my phone from my pocket. The screen lit up, immediately showing a top notification from the pack's private forum.

[HOT]Fated Luna Returns! Alpha Hazen Steps Out With His Secret Heir - Is Coleen's Position As Luna Already Over?

I tapped the screen. A photo filled the display. A tall, broad-shouldered Alpha was draping his tailored black suit jacket over the trembling shoulders of a petite woman. Standing beside her was a young boy.

The man in the photo was my husband, the undisputed Alpha and billionaire CEO of the Sharp Pack, Hazen Sharp.

The woman was Domonique Wilcox. His first love who had returned from overseas days ago, claiming the boy beside her was his pureblood Alpha child.

I stared at the screen, my fingernails digging into my palm until the pain grounded me. I pressed the power button, plunging the phone into darkness.

The mark on the right side of my neck flared with a burning ache. In our world, an Alpha's emotional betrayal triggers a physical backlash through the mate-bond, sending sharp waves of distress along the nervous system.

I slid down against the cold glass, sitting on the floor as I dragged air into my starving lungs.

This morning, Hazen had adjusted his diamond cufflinks, his voice dismissive as he said, "Pack business came up. Cancel the dinner."

His urgent business had been taking another woman and her child to watch the festival fireworks.

A single tear slipped down my cheek, hot and heavy against my skin.

I wiped it away and stood up, leaning against the window frame. I was done begging for scraps of his attention.

I walked across the dim living room and entered the study at the end of the hallway.

I pushed open the heavy oak door. Moonlight spilled across the wide mahogany desk.

Walking over to the desk, I pulled open the bottom drawer and retrieved a yellowed parchment envelope.

Inside was the official draft for The Rejection, recognized by ancient werewolf law to sever a fated bond.

I smoothed the paper onto the desk and uncapped a black pen, hovering the tip over the signature line.

Under our sacred laws, once a marked mate signs and speaks the rejection oath to the Moon Goddess, a soul-tearing agony will follow. But living like a ghost in this penthouse was killing me anyway.

The image of Hazen gently wrapping his coat around Domonique flashed in my mind.

I bit down hard on my lower lip until the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth.

The pen scratched across the paper as I signed my name: Coleen Savage.

The moment the final stroke ended, the mark on my neck throbbed with heat, and my inner wolf let out a sharp cry of grief.

I touched the burning skin of my neck, folded the document with steady hands, and tucked it into the inner pocket of my leather handbag.

I walked out of the study, shutting the heavy door behind me.

Back in the dining room, I picked up the plate of ruined steak and dumped it directly into the trash bin.

The electronic lock at the front door beeped, followed by the heavy, measured tread of leather shoes entering the foyer.