Broken by the Alpha: The Moon Singer's Rise

Alexia POV

The celebration was still roaring in the distance, a relentless pulse of bass and drunken howling that vibrated through the ground.

I moved like a shadow through the trees, heading for the northern border. It was the most treacherous route, bordering the Rogue lands, but crucially, it was the only one unguarded during the party.

I paused at the ridge overlooking the valley. The moonlight washed over the very spot where Jacob had found me, years ago. I was a starving orphan back then, playing a flute made of reed. He had called me his "little miracle."

*Liar.*

The memory tasted like ash.

I intended to send the formal Rejection through the link right then and there. I wanted to feel the bond shatter while I was still on Pack soil.

*I, Alexia Bell, reject—*

A mechanical shriek shattered the night.

The perimeter alarms screamed. Red lights strobed violently along the fence line.

*ROGUES!* The mental shout echoed through the Pack link, sharp with panic. *North Breach! Multiple targets!*

My heart stopped. I was at the North Breach.

Shadows detached themselves from the trees ahead of me. Not men. Wolves. Mangy, scarred, and reeking of rot.

I scrambled backward, clutching my broken arm to my chest. I couldn't shift. My wolf was dormant, buried under the weight of injury and trauma.

*Jacob!* I screamed into the link, instinct taking over. *I'm at the North Ridge! There are five of them!*

I waited for the response. I waited for the hero. I waited for the Alpha to come charging in to save his Mate.

Silence.

Then, Jacob’s voice boomed through the link, commanding the warriors.

*Protect the Alpha House! Secure the Luna! Kassandra is the priority! All units to the center!*

The command hit me harder than any physical blow.

He wasn't coming. He heard me, and he ordered everyone to the center. To her.

A rogue wolf lunged at me, jaws snapping.

I threw myself to the side, rolling down the embankment. Thorns and brambles tore at my skin. I hit the bottom of the ravine hard, the breath knocked out of me in a painful wheeze.

The rogue snarled from the top of the ridge, but the sirens and the blazing lights from the main house drew its attention. It turned and ran toward the party, toward the easy prey.

I lay in the mud, gasping for air.

He had left me to die. Again.

That was it. The final nail.

I didn't bother with the formal words. They didn't deserve the dignity of a ritual.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the medical report I had stolen from Doc Evans' office earlier. The one that detailed the crush injury. The one that explicitly noted the angle of the break was consistent with a boot stomp, not a bite.

With a trembling hand, I pinned it to a tree trunk with a small knife.

Then, I turned my back on the Obsidian Pack.

I walked into the darkness of the rogue lands. I didn't run. I walked. Because I knew, with absolute certainty, that no one was coming to look for me.

I was a ghost.

And ghosts don't leave footprints.