FATED TO THE ALPHA WHO HATED ME

 

“Get up, deadweight.”

Cade’s voice cracked like a whip across the training field, and every head turned toward me.

I blinked through the blood trickling from my eyebrow, and pushed myself up. Slowly, shakily.

Dirt caked my hands. My knees throbbed. 

I should’ve stayed down. But his tone— the way it sounded so arrogant and cold made something twist inside me. 

“Oh, come on.” He huffed like I was wasting his time. “Even pups shift better than that.”

Laughter rippled through the circle of trainees. No one stepped forward. No one offered a hand. Not like they ever did.

I scoffed as I tried to even out my breathing.

Pack unity - they say. 

But for an orphaned omega like me, unity never stretched far enough.

“Maybe if you focused less on hiding in the kitchens and more on training, you’d actually be useful,” Cade said, strolling toward me with lazy arrogance. 

He looked like every girl’s fantasy—tall, golden-haired, eyes like storm clouds, muscles coiled and confident. 

But even with his gorgeous looks I knew better than anyone, what hid beneath that.

Cade Thorne was a beautifully wrapped blade.

“I’m trying,” I muttered.

“What was that?” He cupped a hand to his ear dramatically. “Speak up, mutt.”

My jaw clenched. “I said I’m trying.”

He smirked, then turned to the crowd. “Did everyone hear that? Ayla Rowan is trying. Let’s all give her a slow clap.”

And they did. Gods, they did. The sound echoed—obviously mocking me.

Heat burned behind my eyes, but I swallowed the lump in my throat. I wouldn’t cry. Not here. Not in front of him.

I would not give the royal bastard the satisfaction of seeing me break.

He stepped closer and I tensed as his scent —a mix of pine and power—wrapped around me like a snare. “Trying doesn’t cut it, Rowan. Not in this pack. Not when you’re dragging everyone down.”

I met his gaze. “Maybe if someone actually trained me instead of treating me like trash—”

“Then maybe you’d still be trash,” he snapped, eyes flashing. “Just better polished.”

Silence.

The insult landed with precision like he intended. My heart stuttered and I clenched my fists. 

No one said a word. Not one voice rose in protest to defend him or call him out on his behaviors.

Not even my friend Lila, who stood stiffly behind Cade, looking anywhere but at me.

That was the worst part—how easy it was for them to pretend I didn’t matter.

The Beta instructor cleared his throat awkwardly. “Let’s move on. Pair up for shift combat.”

But no one moved toward me. Not even after the command.

Cade’s smile curved like a knife. “Guess you’re solo again, trash”

And just like that, the circle shifted without me.

My stomach churned as I walked into the pack circle.

Fairy lights hung from the pine trees, laughter filled the clearing, and wolves danced barefoot in the grass. It was the annual Moon Feast—where the young proved themselves before the elders. 

Where Cade was hailed as the pack’s golden heir. Where everyone pretended the pack was one big family.

Except I didn’t have a seat at the table.

I lingered at the edge, holding a chipped cup of moonberry juice like it made me invisible. 

I ignored the stinging pain from my bruises beneath the cotton of my dress.

I’d cleaned up, with the help of Mae but they weren’t healing as fast as they could.

I would have preferred to stay locked in my little hut - but this was a compulsory ritual so here we are.

But I was very comfortable moving in the shadows where no one saw me.

Not until Cade’s voice rang out again.

“Careful, she might curse your food just by breathing near it.”

I froze mid-step. He stood by the bonfire, surrounded by his loyal shadows—Lila, Riven, and a few others whose names I never bothered to learn. They were all drunk on praise and power.

“She’s probably here to steal leftovers,” Riven joked.

“Or a mate,” someone added, and they all burst into laughter.

My stomach twisted.

Cade raised his glass toward me, his grin sharp and empty. “Want to join us, Ayla? I’m sure we can find you a nice spot… under the table.”

The crowd roared. Even some elders chuckled. 

Of course they did. My vision blurred as I felt my skin become too tight.

“The table would be too nice a spot for her. The girl disgusts me and I can’t wait till she crawls into the grave like her useless parents.”

I dropped the cup. The splash of juice bloomed like blood on the grass.

And I ran.

Back in my room—small, cold, tucked in the servant’s quarters—I stared at the cracked mirror.

I looked like a ghost. Eyes wild. Mouth set in a hard, thin line. My curls frizzed from the shift earlier. A purple bruise bloomed along my jaw. I touched it lightly, then dropped my hand.

“You’re not crying,” I whispered to the girl in the mirror. “Not again.”

But I did. Silent, stubborn tears, slipping down like surrender.

I moved around the room on autopilot—grabbing the little I owned. A faded sweater. Two books. A folded photo of my parents, the last one before they died in that rogue attack. I rolled it all into my duffel and zipped it shut.

I left a small note on the pillow.

To Mae, thank you for always saving the warmest rolls for me. You were the only bit of kindness in this place. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay.

The halls were quiet when I stepped out. The scent of roasted meat and spiced wine drifted from the main hall, but I didn’t pause.

I walked through the trees barefoot, feeling the earth one last time.

The moment I was far enough from the border, I knelt.

The shift came easier than usual. Painful, yes—but clean. Fur covered my skin, bones cracked and rearranged, and within seconds I was on all fours.

My wolf looked back—just once. At the trees, the people, the life that never loved us.

Then we ran.

Past the edge of the territory. Past the lies and cruelty. Past the golden-haired boy who destroyed me.