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