Dumped My Unloyal Alpha

Months prior, Alpha Malcolm had presented me with a prestigious opportunity: to serve as an agricultural strategist at Black Widow Pack’s academy farm. The same academy where I had once been a prodigy—where I’d first crossed paths with Nathaniel, and where I’d mastered critical techniques in communal survival and sustainable leadership. My affinity for agriculture had bloomed early. As a child, I’d nurtured an unrelenting fascination for livestock husbandry and crop cultivation—a passion that hardened into academic obsession. By sixteen, I’d drafted pioneering methodologies to optimise harvest yields; by twenty, my research licences with Black Widow Pack had earned me a formal endorsement from their Leader himself. When Nathaniel proposed five years ago, I was being groomed for a coveted role in their Department for Environment, Food & Rural Affairs. Yet love loomed over me like a scythe. In the delicate calculus of devotion, I chose Nathaniel. I forfeited my ambitions, dismantled

"Angie! Why are you leaving?" My jaw tightened, and I cut the call without hesitation. There would be no apologies, no excuses—not now. "Let’s get you home first before we face the Alpha," Allison said, his voice gentler. "Calm yourself, please . You can explain everything once we’re back." I nodded, my throat thick. The thought of seeing Mother again clawed at my ribs. "I need to see her." "She’s prepared a full breakfast feast," he replied, steering the car deeper into Black Widow territory. A faint smile flickered. "She’s desperate to meet little Iona. But—" I inhaled sharply, tears spilling silently. Allison didn’t falter, driving on until the familiar house loomed ahead—the one we’d both fled as children.As soon as I stepped out of the car, Mum came rushing towards me, her arms open wide. “Angie!” she called, her voice trembling with emotion. “Mum!” I cried back, running into her embrace. Her warmth surrounded me, and I felt a lump rise in my throat. Tears welled up

“Is there literally no one in this Pack who’s deaf to the rumours but you?” My words skittered, frayed and cracked like ice, every syllable jagged with frustration. “Do you act like you don’t hear them? They’re saying Iona died in that raid—your own daughter—and you still haven’t spit in the liar’s face!’Nathaniel’s brow furrowed, slow and purposeful, like translating a foreign language. “You’ve brewed this storm over… gossip? Angie, listen. I go visit Yoan and his boy because his dad was —”“Enough.” The word cleaved the air. “You have time for Hazel’s tears, for Yoan’s needs, but not a second to grieve your child? Tell me, Nathaniel — what father chooses a brother’s ghost over his daughter’s grave?”He grew stiff, guilt solidifying into defiance. “What’s scary is Hazel’s mental state is fragile. Yoan’s drowning. Should I let them sink?”“I’d make you take care whose blood sullies the water.”“I went to Yoan because she was drowning,” Nathaniel replied, his voice cracking. “Her

He led me by the new armoury, the rebuilt creche, his silence some balm. At the edge of the birch grove, he stopped. "Where next, Miss Angeline?" Moonlight glinted off the scar above his brow — a souvenir from fending sixth-form bullies off me. My throat tightened. "The lake," I whispered. "Our lake. The one where we … where you taught me how to skip stones.” Malcolm’s smile contained decades of sunsets shared. "Thought you'd never ask." "Really?" I said softly, as if to myself. Malcolm's eyes brightened. "Absolutely. But it is no longer the secret haven it used to be. It’s grown popular now. So, what do you say? Shall we run, or go slow and enjoy the view?” I didn’t hesitate. "Let’s run." I wanted the speed, the release, the escape. He and I shifted into our wolf forms, the transformation quick and fluid, and we took off as one. The wind roared by, pulling at our fur side by side, our feet pounding against the earth. It made me nostalgic, back in the days when we were young a

There was Yoan, Nathaniel’s partner, holding her son Hazel.The woman in front of me didn’t resemble anything like the self-assured person in my memory. Her hair was matted into filthy knots, her clothes torn to shreds at the seams. A patch of dirt and rust-brown blood stained her face, her eyes hollow as if she’d endured a storm of blades.Something primal turned in my chest — not pity, exactly, but the faint reverberation of a self I’d buried long, long ago.I knelt next to her, speaking quietly but firmly. “Yoan, what’s happened?”She flinched at the sound of my voice, but the recognition eased her panic. And a moment later she collapsed into me, body breaking into gasping sobs. “Angie… what do I do?” Each syllable was variegated, the sound granular, like burnt timber.It seemed an eternity before her breath steadied, although quakes still shook her frame.As I opened my mouth to press on, Allison and Malcolm’s arrival broke the thin thread of calm. Yoan lunged in front of Ha