The Alpha's Refusal

Elara’s POV

The rain was a cold, miserable bitch, and frankly, I felt like one too.

I was driving back from the woods, where I kept my mother's secret grave. Just an unmarked patch of dirt. That's all the life I was allowed to mourn. She was the only person who ever truly saw me, the only one who loved me enough to endure the shame of raising an Alpha's bastard daughter alone. 

And then, when she was dying and had no other choice, she sent me to my biological father.

Talk about a shit deal.

I became the Pack's joke. The Alpha's forgotten daughter, the Cinderella who didn't even get a fairy godmother. My ultimate failure? When I turned sixteen and nothing happened. 

No wolf. No power. 

Just a pathetic, soft-bodied human in a world of predators. They didn't just bully me; they treated me like I was dirt they tracked in on their boots.

I thought the Moon Goddess had finally thrown me a bone when I found my Mate, Rhys. Big, dark, powerful Alpha Rhys. A warrior sent from central casting. 

I found him bleeding out in the forest, a mess of torn muscle and shattered bone. I dragged his powerful ass to safety, my weak body straining for hours. That was the moment the Mate bond sealed. 

The Moon Goddess pointed her finger and said, "You two. Mate."

But Rhys didn't want the binding. He didn't want me, the wolf-less freak. He hated the bond, hated the weakness I represented. 

Our marriage was a cosmic fuck you to his free will, and he made sure I felt that resentment every single day. I was his Luna in name, the mother of his heir, but to him, I was just a living reminder of the witch's prophecy he'd finally fulfilled.

I slammed my palm against the steering wheel. I was tired. Bone-tired of fighting this invisible war.

This morning, I'd asked Jaxon, the son I took life risk to born, if he wanted to come with me. "Mom, I have important things to do. Go by yourself," he'd said, rolling his eyes like a fourteen-year-old, even though he's only four.

I love my puppy, but the way he looks at me... it's a copy of Rhys's disdain. 

Jaxon knows I don't have a wolf. He knows I can't shift. He feels the Pack's collective pity and disgust, and he directs it right back at the weakest link: his own mother. It's brutal.

The rain was coming down in sheets now, a proper deluge. I was so focused on my miserable life, on the fact that Rhys was probably off somewhere doing Alpha things, utterly unconcerned with his wolf-less Mate, that I didn't see the car behind me until it was too late.

CRASH.

My head snapped back, then my chest slammed hard against the wheel. The air rushed out of my lungs in a painful choke. My ribs screamed. Holy hell.

Shaking, I stumbled out into the torrential rain. It instantly plastered my clothes to my skin. My car looked totaled. The minivan that hit me was equally messed up.

"What the hell, " I managed to cough out, clutching my chest.

Then, out of the murky gray chaos, a massive, black luxury SUV, came tearing around the corner like a bullet. It hit a deep pothole, and a towering wave of icy, filthy road water hit me full force.

It’s Rhys's car.

I gasped, blinded, choking on the mud and grit. I tasted metal and rot.

Then, through my streaming eyes, I saw it.

In the passenger seat, sitting high and dry, was Seraphina. 

My husband’s TRUE LOVE.

She was leaning slightly toward Rhys, her blonde hair perfectly styled, and she was wearing that sickeningly sweet, pitying smile she always uses when she looks at me. Next to her, a little boy, her kid, was pointing and laughing at the pathetic, drowning woman on the roadside.

Seraphina, the missing "White Moonlight" Rhys had been obsessed with for five years, came waltzing back three months ago, claiming some lower Alpha had kidnapped her. She told Rhys a sob story about being abused and trapped, and he bought every single fucking lie. Now, he treats her like a saint, an injured bird he needs to constantly protect.

Rhys didn't even slow down. His face, visible for a second behind the driver's window, was impassive, focused only on the road ahead. He drove right past his injured Mate, the mother of his true heir.

I pulled out my waterlogged phone and hit Rhys's number.

It rang once. 

Then: CLICK.

Call Rejected.

He chose her over me, even now, when I was potentially injured.

I looked at the minivan. The driver was sprinting away, disappearing into the downpour. 

Fine. Just great.

I was alone. Soaked in rain and shame. I had no wolf, no Mate's protection, and now, no car.