The Alpha's Rejected White Wolf Mate

Clara Winter

Werewolf | Completed

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It was the night of my first solo art exhibition, but my Alpha mate, Cameron, was nowhere to be seen. The air was thick with champagne and praise, but every compliment felt like a slap, calling me "the Alpha's mate," not an artist. Then I saw him on the news feed. He was shielding another woman, an Alpha Female, from camera flashes. The whispers in the room confirmed it: their packs were merging, sealed by a new mating. This wasn't just him being late; it was a public execution of our bond. His voice cut into my mind, cold and detached. "Kacie needs me. You're an Omega, handle this." Not an apology, just an order. That was the moment the last thread of hope I'd clung to for four years finally snapped. He hadn't just forgotten me; he had systematically erased me, even taking credit for the billion-dollar app born from my secret visions, dismissing my art as a mere "hobby." But the quiet, submissive part of me died that night. I walked into a back office and sent a message to my lawyer. I told her to draft a Rejection Ritual document, disguised as an Intellectual Property transfer for my "worthless" art. He would never read the fine print. With the same arrogance he used to shatter my soul, he was about to sign his own away.

Betrayal Revenge Kickass Heroine Werewolf Second chance

Chapter 11

01-06 21:40

Chapter 1

Then I saw him on the news feed. He was shielding another woman, an Alpha Female, from camera flashes. The whispers in the room confirmed it: their packs were merging, sealed by a new mating. This wasn't just him being late; it was a public execution of our bond.

His voice cut into my mind, cold and detached. "Kacie needs me. You're an Omega, handle this." Not an apology, just an order. That was the moment the last thread of hope I'd clung to for four years finally snapped.

He hadn't just forgotten me; he had systematically erased me, even taking credit for the billion-dollar app born from my secret visions, dismissing my art as a mere "hobby."

But the quiet, submissive part of me died that night. I walked into a back office and sent a message to my lawyer.

I told her to draft a Rejection Ritual document, disguised as an Intellectual Property transfer for my "worthless" art. He would never read the fine print. With the same arrogance he used to shatter my soul, he was about to sign his own away.

Chapter 1

ARYANA POV:

The air in the gallery was thick. It smelled of expensive champagne, human perfume, and the faint, clean scent of oil paint drying on canvas. But the one scent my soul craved was missing.

Pine and the electric charge of a coming storm.

Cameron.

My Alpha. My mate.

He was supposed to be here. This was my night, my first solo exhibition. The culmination of years spent hunched over canvases in the sterile, lonely penthouse he called our home.

A tremor of unease went through me. I smoothed down the simple silk dress I wore, a deep midnight blue. It was elegant, but it felt like a costume. Everything about this life felt like a costume.

Someone clinked a glass nearby. "A toast to the Alpha's mate! Such a talented little Omega."

The words were meant as a compliment, but they landed like a slap. *The Alpha's mate.* Not Aryana Mason, the artist. Just an extension of him. An accessory.

Through the Mind-Link, the shared mental space of our pack, I could feel the thoughts of the other Blackstone wolves in the room. Some were pitying. *Poor thing, he stood her up.* Others were laced with a cruel satisfaction. *She always was too quiet for an Alpha like him.*

The Mind-Link was a gift from the Moon Goddess, meant to bind a pack together, to create a family. But tonight, it felt like a cage of whispers, each one a sharp jab against my heart.

I forced a smile for a human collector admiring my largest piece, a swirling vortex of silver and shadow that represented the birth of an idea. His idea.

My gaze drifted to the large screen at the end of the gallery, which was supposed to be showing a loop of my digital sketches. Instead, it was tuned to a live news feed.

And there he was.

Cameron Oneill. My Cameron.

He was standing on the steps of City Hall, his broad shoulders a fortress in a perfectly tailored suit. His powerful body was angled protectively, shielding another woman from the barrage of camera flashes.

Kacie Chavez. the Alpha Female of the Redmoon Pack.

Her scent, even through the screen, was sharp and aggressive-wild ginger and desert sun. She was a predator, an equal. Not a quiet Omega who smelled of lilac and rain.

The whispers in the gallery grew louder, no longer confined to the Mind-Link.

"...a merger between Blackstone and Redmoon..."

"...the alliance will be sealed by a mating..."

"...a true power couple. An Alpha and an Alpha Female..."

The room tilted. The champagne in my stomach turned to acid. This wasn't just him being late. This was a public execution. My execution.

Then, his voice cut through the noise, directly into my head. A cold, detached command through our private link.

*Kacie needs me. You're an Omega, handle this little scene. Congratulations.*

The words were clipped, impatient. Not a hint of apology. Not a flicker of warmth. It was an order from an Alpha to a subordinate.

That was it. The final thread of hope I'd been clinging to for four years snapped. The sacred bond between us, the one the Moon Goddess had woven, felt suddenly icy and brittle, like a frozen vine about to shatter.

"Are you alright, Aryana?"

A solid presence was suddenly at my side. Brenton Lloyd, the gallery owner. His Beta scent, warm earth and old books, was a comforting shield, blocking out the prying eyes and thoughts.

His voice was low, for my ears only, but his rage was a silent scream in the Mind-Link. *That fool Alpha! He's just like the last one who broke my sister's heart. He will regret this day until his last breath!*

I took a shaky breath, my eyes locking onto the painting on the wall. It was one of my early sketches for the "Aether" project-the revolutionary app that had made Oneill Tech billions. The inspiration had come to me in a vision, a gift of my hidden bloodline, a torrent of images and code that I had frantically painted onto canvas.

Cameron had called it my "hobby." He knew exactly what it was, the magic thrumming beneath the paint. But acknowledging it would have meant acknowledging my power. So he belittled it. And me.

He hadn't just forgotten me. He had systematically erased me. He had taken the most sacred part of my soul, the magic of my White Wolf heritage, and branded it with his own name.

The quiet part of me, the part that had learned to survive by being small and silent, finally died. In its place, a cold, hard resolve clicked into place, sharp as a shard of glass.

I would not break. I would not crumble.

I would fight back.

Excusing myself, I walked on steady legs to the back office. My hands didn't even shake as I pulled out my phone. I scrolled to the contact for Sarah, my lawyer, another soul sheltered by the neutral Moonglade Council.

My message was simple, transmitted through a secure, encrypted channel.

"Sarah," I typed. "I need you to draw up a document for a Rejection Ritual. Disguise it as an Intellectual Property transfer agreement for all my 'Aether' concept art. He'll never read the fine print. He thinks an Omega's 'hobby' is worthless."

I hit send. The decision settled in my bones, not with pain, but with the terrifying calm of a coming storm. He was about to sign away his soul, and he would do it with the same casual arrogance with which he had just shattered mine.

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