Unwanted by Him, Chosen by the Stronger Alpha

I was the Pack’s shame, a twenty-year-old "Runt" who had never shifted. Yet, I clung to the desperate hope that Alpha Marcus, the man I had loved my entire life, would finally claim me at the Full Moon Gala.

Instead, he stood before the entire Pack with Izzy, a woman who looked at him with hunger rather than love. With eyes as cold as stone, he didn't just ignore me; he destroyed me.

"I, Marcus Thorne, reject you, Olivia Hayes."

The rejection snapped our bond, but the nightmare was just beginning. When Izzy framed me for poisoning her, Marcus didn't hesitate. He chained me in the dungeon and wielded the silver whip himself. Each lash burned like liquid fire, tearing through my skin as he demanded a confession I couldn't give.

I woke up in a pool of my own blood, only to hear the nurse whisper the truth I was never meant to know.

The silver toxicity hadn't just broken my body; it had killed the unborn pup I didn't even know I was carrying.

Marcus had whipped the mother of his own child to protect a liar. He had killed his heir for a woman who was faking her own pregnancy.

That night, as I crawled through the mud to escape, the weak Runt died. In the freezing waters of the river, my bones snapped and reshaped. I didn't just shift; I became the legendary White Wolf.

And when Marcus finally realized the truth and came begging on his knees, I looked at him with my new, violet eyes and prepared to give him the rejection he deserved.

Chapter 1

Olivia POV

I was twenty years old, and in the eyes of the Moonstone Pack, I was a mistake.

That was what the whispers said, anyway. In our world, if you haven’t shifted by eighteen, you are looked at with pity. If you haven’t shifted by twenty, you are a "Runt." A burden. A genetic dead end.

I sat at my vanity, staring at my reflection. Pale skin, eyes that held a desperate, foolish hope, and a body that felt too fragile to ever house a predator. My father, Elder David, told me the Moon Goddess had a plan for everyone. But it was hard to believe in a divine plan when you were the only one left walking on two legs while everyone else ran on four.

I opened the bottom drawer of my desk. It was my secret shame. Inside lay a collection of mundane objects that meant the world to me. A discarded training jersey. A pen he had chewed on during a meeting.

And my sketches.

I pulled out the charcoal drawing. It was him. Alpha Marcus Thorne. I had drawn him not as a man, but as the beast I knew lived inside him. A massive, midnight-black Dire Wolf with eyes like molten gold. I had never seen his wolf—Runts weren't permitted near the training grounds—but I felt it.

I closed my eyes