The Rejected Omega Is Actually The White Wolf

I jumped into the freezing Hudson River. Not to kill myself, but to save the only thing I had left—my father's Medal of Valor, which Krystal had thrown into the water like a stick for a dog.

I clawed my way up the muddy bank, lungs burning, shivering violently. I looked up at the villa balcony, hoping my Fated Mate, Jaxon, would be looking for me.

He wasn't.

He was wrapping his arms around Krystal, watching the artificial meteor shower he had arranged just for her.

"Anything for you, my love," he said, completely forgetting I was drowning in the dark below.

For three years, I believed I had "Wolf Sickness." I took the pills he sent, grateful for his care.

But the pills were poison. Wolfsbane. Designed to keep me weak, docile, and unable to shift, just so he could replace me with a more powerful Luna.

He called me a liability. He watched his mistress run me over with her Porsche, ordered his guards to silence me, and let her dogs tear my skin.

Now, clutching the cold medal, the final thread of our bond snapped.

I didn't go back to the pack house. I dragged my broken body to the airport and sent one final text.

"I, Alina Phillips, reject you, Jaxon Francis."

I mailed him the medical report proving he had been poisoning his own mate, and then I disappeared.

By the time he realizes what he's done, the Alina he knew will be dead.

Chapter 1

Alina POV:

The air in the Swiss Alps was crisp, clean, and suffocating.

For three years, this "Healer Sanctuary" had been my prison. A golden cage built of snow and invoices paid by the Blood Moon Pack.

I looked down at the letter in my hand-acceptance to the Royal Academy of Arts in Paris. The paper was crumpled from how hard I was gripping it. I had to leave. Today.

I walked to the reception desk, heart hammering against my ribs. My inner wolf, usually dormant and sluggish, stirred with a strange, prickly anxiety.

"I need my medical records," I told the receptionist, a young Beta smelling of lavender and antiseptic. "I'm transferring."

She blinked. "Transferring? But Miss Phillips, Dr. Klein said your treatment for Wolf Sickness requires strict isolation. Your spirit is unstable."

"Just give me the file." I tried to inject authority into my voice. As an Omega, it didn't come naturally.

She sighed, pulling a thick folder from the cabinet. As she handed it over, a loose paper fluttered to the floor. I snatched it up before she could react.

It was a lab report from a year ago.

Patient: Alina Phillips.

Diagnosis: Wolf Spirit Stable.

Medication: High-dosage Wolfsbane-based Suppressants (labeled as Vitamin B complex).

Notes: Orders per Alpha Jaxon Francis. Maintain sedation. Patient must remain unaware of recovery.

The floor seemed to drop out from under me.

I wasn't sick. I hadn't been for a year.

The "vitamins" were poison. Designed to keep my wolf weak, keep me docile. Keep me here.

Jaxon.

My Fated Mate. The Alpha who promised to protect me at my father's funeral was the one poisoning me.

I didn't pack. I didn't say goodbye. I took the first flight back to New York, straight to Crescent City.

The Blood Moon Pack House was a fortress of glass and steel. Nexus Corp operated out of here, a corporate front for the pack's dominance.

I knew the codes. I knew the service entrances my father, a Beta Warrior, taught me before he died saving Jaxon's life.

I slipped into the ventilation shaft near the Alpha's office. His scent hit me instantly-rainstorm and dark chocolate. It used to make my knees weak. Now, it made bile rise in my throat.

But there was another scent. Synthetic roses.

Krystal Gomez.

I peered through the grate. Jaxon stood by the window, looking out over the city. Krystal, the daughter of the rival Gomez Alpha, was draped over the leather sofa.

"When are you going to tell the little Omega it's over?" Krystal asked, checking her nails.

"Patience," Jaxon said. His voice was cold, devoid of the warmth I remembered. "The merger with your father's pack depends on our union. Alina is... a complication."

"She's your Fated Mate," Krystal sneered. "The Moon Goddess doesn't make mistakes, right?"

Jaxon turned. His face was hard. "The Goddess gave me a broken tool. Alina is weak. She has Wolf Sickness. She can't shift, can't produce strong heirs. She's a liability I inherited from a dead hero."

My breath hitched.

"So, you don't love her?" Krystal walked to him, running a hand down his chest.

"I love the power your pack brings to mine," Jaxon said, leaning into her. "You are my Chosen Mate, Krystal. Alina is just a patient."

My wolf let out a high, keening whine in my head. The sound of a bond shattering.

I scrambled back, desperate to escape. I stumbled out of the service exit and ran straight into a wall of expensive fabric.

"Going somewhere?"

Margaret, Jaxon's mother and the former Luna, looked at me like I was something she stepped in.

"I heard everything," I whispered.

"Good." She reached into her purse, pulled out a check, and flicked it at me. It fluttered to the dirty pavement. "One million. Freshly written. Take it and disappear. Die in the Alps for all I care, just stay away from my son."

I looked at the check. Then at the Pack House.

"I don't want your money," I said, hands shaking.

"Don't be stupid," she hissed. "You have no job, no home, and your father's pension is gone. You take this, or you starve in the gutter."

She was right. I had nothing. Survival instinct kicked in.

I bent down and picked up the check. It felt heavy with shame, but it was a lifeline.

"Fine," I said, voice hollow. "My father's death anniversary is in three days. I visit his grave, then you never see me again."

I turned and walked away. I tried to open the Mind-Link.

Jaxon?

Silence. Not ignored-blocked.

He had blocked his Fated Mate.