Rejecting the Cheating Alpha

The reports on my desk blurred together, columns of numbers and patrol schedules bleeding into meaningless shapes. I'd been staring at the same Beta logistics summary for ten minutes, my wolf pacing restlessly beneath my skin, when the knock came.

"Come in," I said, grateful for the interruption.

Dr. Helena Cross, our pack's Healer, stepped through the doorway. The late afternoon sun caught the silver streaks in her dark hair, but it was her expression that made my stomach drop—tight lines around her mouth, eyes filled with something between sympathy and anger.

"Evangeline." She closed the door with deliberate care. "I need to speak with you about something... unusual."

I set down my pen. "What is it?"

Helena approached my desk, her hands clasped so tightly her knuckles had gone white. "I was reviewing the burial ground schedules this morning—routine maintenance checks—and I found your family's plot listed under another name." She paused, swallowing hard. "It's been prepared for cremation rites. For someone named Mrs. Eleanor Griffin."

The air left my lungs. "Owen's mother."

"I thought there must be some mistake," Helena continued, her voice dropping. "Your mother reserved that plot specifically for you. It's your ancestral right, your Luna heritage. But when I checked the burial contract records, someone had filed updated documentation. The signature looked... official."

My hands began to tremble. I pressed them flat against the cool wood of my desk, fighting to keep my voice steady. "Owen has custody of those documents. He's always handled our family's burial contracts since we mated."

Helena's silence spoke volumes.

My wolf snarled inside me, clawing at my ribs. The silver moonstone bracelet on my wrist—my mother's gift, worn since my mating ceremony—suddenly felt too tight. "Thank you for telling me," I managed. "I'll handle this."

But Helena didn't move. "Evangeline, be careful. Something about this feels wrong."

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak further. After she left, I sat alone in my office as shadows lengthened across the floor. My mother had chosen that plot with such care, walking the sacred ground with me when I'd turned eighteen, explaining how our Luna ancestors had blessed that earth. *This is yours,* she'd told me, her hand warm on my shoulder. *Our legacy, our home, even in death.*

And now someone had stolen it.

That evening, I found Owen in his Alpha office, bent over his own stack of paperwork. The scent of whiskey hung in the air—he'd been drinking, though his hand was steady as he wrote. I stood in the doorway for a long moment, studying the man I'd once believed was my fated mate. When had the distance between us grown so vast?

"Owen."

His head snapped up, eyes flashing briefly with something I couldn't read before his expression smoothed into careful neutrality. "Evangeline. What is it?"

I stepped inside, closing the door. "Dr. Cross came to see me today. She told me that my family's burial plot has been scheduled for your mother's cremation."

His jaw tightened, a muscle jumping beneath his skin. He set down his pen with deliberate precision. "There was a clerical error. I'll handle it appropriately."

"A clerical error." The words tasted bitter. "Owen, you have sole custody of those burial contracts. How does an error like this even happen?"

"I said I'll handle it." His tone carried the edge of Alpha authority now, that particular timbre meant to end conversations.

But I was a Beta, daughter of a Luna. I didn't flinch. "I want to see the burial contract. The original documentation my mother filed."

Owen's eyes flashed gold—his wolf rising close to the surface. He waved his hand in dismissal, the gesture both casual and cutting. "You're overreacting to administrative confusion, Evangeline. My mother deserves a proper burial, and the arrangements are already made. I'll find another plot."

"That's not the point—"

"Enough." The word cracked through the room like a whip. Owen stood, his Alpha aura pressing against me, heavy and suffocating. "I have more important matters to deal with than your dramatics over paperwork."

I stared at him, really looked at him, and caught it—a sweetness clinging to his skin beneath his natural pine scent. Floral. Unfamiliar. Wrong.

My wolf went silent, then began to howl.

"Fine," I said quietly. "I'll handle it myself."

I left before he could respond, before the trembling in my hands could spread to my voice. The hallway stretched endlessly before me, each step echoing in the gathering dark. Something was terribly, irreversibly wrong.

And tomorrow, I would find out exactly what.

The sacred burial ground waited in the pre-dawn shadows, ancient oaks standing sentinel over ground my ancestors had blessed. I would have my answers there, one way or another.