Chapter 13
The client who came to view the house was very decisive–after seeing it, they immediately paid the deposit.
As I walked out of the neighborhood, I ran into Beta Malcolm and Queenie sitting by the roadside, both looking miserable.
Queenie was sniffling hard enough to fog up her compact mirror. “Where are we gonna sleep tonight, Mal? I can’t go back to my mom’s. She thinks you’re a deadbeat.”
I mean, she wasn’t wrong.
Malcolm was puffing on a cigarette like he was trying to smoke away the shame. But the second he saw me, he tossed it aside and launched himself at me like a rogue wolf
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sensing a last chance at redemption.
He grabbed the hem of my coat, his voice all wobbly.
“Rowena, you can’t treat me like this! After everything we’ve been through–how can you just walk away like it meant nothing?!”
I stared at him, unimpressed. My wolf snorted in the back of my mind. Is he seriously still pulling the wounded–pup act?
I raised an eyebrow. “Your little sweetheart is right here. You’d better stay away from me. If she stirs up more drama, I’m sure you’ll find a way to blame me for it again.”
His grip tightened, but I yanked my coat free and took a step back.
“And just so we’re crystal clear…” I paused.
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“Malcolm, you’re fired. As of this moment, you are no longer the Beta of the Silver Claw Packhouse. You’ve been demoted to ex with zero benefits. Pack your sorry ass and get out.”
Queenie gasped. Malcolm blinked like I’d slapped him with a silver–gloved paw.
Before he could grovel again, a motorcycle roared past us. He yelped and fell on his butt.
Alpha Zachary, perched on the motorcycle like a dream straight out of a shifter romance novel, tossed me a helmet with one hand.
“All done kicking trash to the curb?” he asked casually, like this was just a regular Tuesday.
“Then let’s go.”
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I didn’t even hesitate.
That night, he took me to the Blue Moon pack estate for dinner. The second we crossed into their territory, my wolf sat up straighter.
These wolves were high–ranking, old–money types, the kind who probably have formal rules for tail wags and howling posture.
As if reading my nerves, Zachary reached over and took my hand. His palm was warm, steady–his wolf’s energy pulsing beneath his skin. my wolf leaned into the comfort, purring.
Dinner turned out to be surprisingly chill. No strict posturing or dominance displays, no awkward silences. Just a big family of powerful wolves who clearly adored each
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other–and for some reason, me.
Zachary’s mom was especially sweet. She loaded up my plate and asked about my favorite pack training exercises. At one point, Yvonne leaned over and whispered, “Okay, but why is my mom treating you like the daughter she never had?”
I shrugged. “Maybe because I’m charming and you’re just okay?”
She kicked me under the table.
After dinner, Zachary brought me up to his room. And that’s when I saw it.
A poster on the wall. Of me. It was an old picture, maybe from our school days, but it was undeniably me–braided hair, awkward smile, and all.
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“Uh…” I pointed at it. “Who’s that?”
Zachary gave me a look that could only be described as you–can’t–be–serious–right–now. Then he pulled out a box from under his bed.
Inside? Dozens of photo albums. Some filled with candid shots from our shared classes, others with pictures I didn’t even know existed–me training with Nyra, laughing during patrols, that one time I fell asleep at pack camp with a sandwich in my hand.
The final photo? A snapshot of us at the marriage registry.
“So…” I asked slowly, turning the album toward him, “this is all… me?”
He nodded, a little sheepish now. “Who else would it be?”
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Turns out, while I’d spent a decade tryingg to convince Beta Malcolm to love me,e, Zachary had been quietly loving me allall along–through pack events, school years, s heartbreaks, and full moons.
Later, Yvonne spilled the beans.
What I thought had been a last–minute marriage–born out of drama and desperation–had actually been Zachary’s long–awaited dream come true.
Apparently, the moment Beta Malcolm
walked out on me the seventh time, Zachary had already called the registry.
“She’s mine now,” he’d said.
And honestly?
Now I’m kind of glad Malcolm was that big of
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a loser.
Because I ended up with an Alpha who never once needed to be convinced.
The End.
Book 3: All My Misfortunes Were Caused by My Alpha
On the eve of my wedding, I was inexplicably drugged and assaulted by a pack of rogues, leaving my reputation in tatters.
The Beta I was about to marry, Lewis, not only showed me no compassion but abandoned me to marry someone else.
In my heartbreak, I chose to end it all, but was saved at the last moment by Alpha Howar.
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He gently confessed the deep feelings he had buried within and promised to be with me for a lifetime.
Yet, this illusion of happiness shattered the moment I discovered I was pregnant.
Alpha Howar suspected the child was illegitimate and forced me to undergo an abortion.
“Throwing her into the rogues to ruin her reputation was merely to ensure Cheryl could marry her fiancé. Saving her life afterward and trying to make amends was already a great act of kindness on my part, but I am far from merciful enough to raise the child of worthless rogues.”
At that moment, I realized that my savior had become the architect of my tragedy, and I cried until I was nearly fainting.
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But I wouldn’t seek death again. Without a child, I felt unburdened.
Everything Alpha Howar inflicted upon me, I would return to him tenfold!
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