Broken by the Alpha, Reborn as Queen

I was the Luna of Silver Lake, yet I spent my mornings cooking eggs for my Alpha mate while his mistress, Keyla, sat in my rightful seat.

I endured the humiliation for the sake of the bond, until the day my mother found Keyla poisoning the pack's water supply.

To hide her crime, Keyla murdered my mother in cold blood.

I screamed for justice, begging Garrison to open his eyes.

But he didn't look at the evidence. He looked at the merger Keyla's father offered.

"She's hysterical," he told the guards, stepping over my mother's body to protect his mistress.

To seal their alliance, he dragged me to the Great Hall and publicly rejected me, severing our soul-bond to sell me off to a sadistic Alpha for mining rights.

He expected me to beg. He expected the weak, bloodline-cursed Omega to crumble.

Instead, I accepted the rejection with a smile.

That night, I drank a potion to erase my scent and threw myself into the storm, faking my death.

Garrison thinks I'm a corpse at the bottom of a cliff, and rumors say he's finally drowning in regret.

He has no idea that the pain didn't kill me. It triggered the ancient, legendary blood of the White Wolf.

Now, standing on the ridge with a Rogue mercenary army, I'm no longer the wife who cooks breakfast.

I'm the monster at his gates, and I won't stop until his entire world is ash.

Chapter 1

Janette POV

Hot grease spat from the skillet, searing the back of my hand.

I didn't flinch.

Pain was a familiar friend in the Silver Lake Pack house. It was certainly a more constant companion than the warmth of a mate's affection.

I plated the eggs, sunny side up, just the way Garrison liked them. My movements were mechanical, a routine honed over three years of suffocating silence. I was the Luna of this pack by title, but here in the kitchen, wearing a stained apron while the Omegas whispered in the hallway, I knew my true place.

I was an anomaly. A glitch in the Moon Goddess's design.

I touched the scar on my neck. The Mate Marking. It should have been a symbol of eternal devotion, a claim that told every other male wolf to back off because I belonged to the Alpha. But Garrison's teeth had sunk into me with reluctance, not passion. It was a political necessity, nothing more.

I carried the tray into the dining room. The morning sun streamed through the high windows, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. Garrison sat at the head of the long mahogany table. He didn't look up. He was reading a human financial newspaper, his brow furrowed.

"Breakfast," I said softly.

"Hmn."

That was it. No *Good morning*. No *How did you sleep?* Just a grunt of acknowledgement that a servant had delivered fuel.

I sat at the far end of the table, the distance between us feeling like miles of frozen tundra. I closed my eyes and reached out with my mind, trying to find the thread that connected us. The Mate Bond. It was supposed to be a golden cord of shared emotion and thought.

*Garrison? Are you worried about the merger?* I sent the thought timidly.

I hit a wall. A cold, impenetrable barrier of mental static. He was blocking me. Again.

My wolf, usually dormant and beaten down, whined in the back of my mind. She craved her other half, but he kept his spirit locked away in a fortress where we weren't welcome.

I remembered the day we met. I was eighteen. The moment our eyes locked, the world had shifted. The scent of him-like rain-soaked earth and burning pine-had flooded my senses. My wolf had howled *Mine!* so loud it rattled my teeth.

I thought it was a fairy tale. I was wrong. I was a healer's daughter with weak blood. He was the Alpha heir who needed a powerful Luna from a rich lineage. Destiny had played a cruel joke on us both.

The heavy oak doors swung open.

The air in the room changed instantly. It became heavy, charged with a dominance that made the hair on my arms stand up.

Keyla Dixon walked in.

She was everything I wasn't. Tall, voluptuous, and radiating the aggressive pheromones of a high-ranking Alpha female. She was the daughter of the neighboring pack's Alpha, and technically, she was here as a "business consultant."

"Good morning, Garrison," she purred. Her voice was like warm honey laced with arsenic.

She didn't look at me. To her, I was furniture.

She walked right up to Garrison and placed a hand on his shoulder. I saw his muscles tense, then relax. He leaned into her touch.

"Keyla," Garrison said, folding his newspaper. His voice held a warmth I hadn't heard directed at me in months. "You're early."

"I couldn't wait to discuss the territory expansion," she said, sliding into the chair next to him-my rightful place, if only I had the courage to claim it. "Plus, I wanted to see how your shoulder is doing. The old injury acting up?"

She brushed her fingers over the fabric of his shirt, lingering near his neck.

I gripped my fork until my knuckles turned white. The scent of her perfume-cloying roses-mixed with her natural musk, trying to drown out my own scent in the room. It was a territorial display, plain and simple. She was marking him with her smell, right in front of me.

"It's fine," Garrison said, but he didn't move her hand. He looked at her, and for a second, I saw the calculation in his eyes. Keyla meant an alliance. Keyla meant power. Keyla meant a strong lineage.

I meant nothing.

"Remember that night in the ravine?" Keyla asked softly, her voice dropping an octave. "When I pulled you out of the wreck? I still have the scar on my shoulder from the jagged metal."

Garrison's expression softened into guilt. "I owe you my life, Keyla. I haven't forgotten."

Lies. Or perhaps, convenient half-truths. My mother always said memory was a tricky thing, especially when influenced by ambition.

I stood up. The chair scraped loudly against the floor.

Both of them looked at me, annoyed by the interruption.

"I'll... I'll clear the plates," I whispered.

Keyla smirked. It was a small, sharp expression. "You do that, Janette. Domestic work suits you."

I gathered the dishes, my hands trembling. As I reached for Garrison's plate, Keyla shifted, "accidentally" bumping my arm. The fork clattered onto the table.

"Clumsy," she muttered.

Garrison sighed, a sound of pure exasperation. "Janette, just leave it. The Omegas will get it."

I fled.

I ran past the grand staircase, out the back door, and into the herb garden. The air here was clean, smelling of rosemary and damp soil.

My mother, Elara, was on her knees, digging up roots. She was the Pack Healer, a woman of earth and quiet wisdom. She stopped when she saw me, her nose twitching.

"You smell like distress," she said, standing up and wiping her hands on her apron. "And... synthetic roses."

"She's in there again, Mom," I choked out.

Mom's face tightened. "The bond is sacred, Janette. But men... men are weak creatures when power is dangled in front of them."

"He blocks me out. He lets her touch him."

Mom gripped my shoulders. Her eyes, usually so gentle, were fierce. "Listen to me. You have a strength inside you that they cannot see. You must hide it. Remember what I told you about your bloodline?"

"The White Wolf," I whispered. "But it's just a story."

"It is not a story," she hissed, looking around to ensure no one was listening. "It is a target on your back. If they knew what you truly were, Janette, they wouldn't worship you. They would cage you and breed you for power. You must remain the weak Omega in their eyes. Until you are ready."

I nodded, though I didn't feel strong. I felt like glass, already cracked and waiting to shatter.

*

That night, Garrison came to bed late. I was feigning sleep.

The mattress dipped under his weight. He smelled of brandy and Keyla's rose perfume. It made my stomach turn.

He didn't reach for me. He lay on the edge of the bed, his back to me.

I opened my eyes and stared at the broad expanse of his shoulders. I wanted to scream. I wanted to claw at him and demand he acknowledge me. But the pack laws were clear: The Alpha's word is law. The Alpha's will is absolute.

I reached out a hand, hovering it inches from his spine. I could feel the heat radiating from him. My mate. My destiny.

"Garrison?" I whispered into the dark.

"Go to sleep, Janette," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "I have a long day tomorrow."

I pulled my hand back. I turned to the window, watching the full moon hang heavy and bright in the sky.

*Moon Goddess,* I prayed silently, a tear sliding down my nose to wet the pillow. *Is this it? Is this my Luna's path?* To fade away until I am nothing but a ghost in my own home?

The moon offered no answer. Only the cold, silver light that felt less like a blessing and more like a spotlight on my shame.

Janette POV

The atmosphere in the pack house had curdled, shifting from a cold, tolerable indifference to active, suffocating hostility. It had started with whispers-sidelong glances that ceased the moment I turned my head-but now, the disdain was blatant.

I was buried in paperwork in Garrison's home office, relegated to yet another administrative task because the Alpha couldn't be bothered with the tedium of running his own territory.

"Where is the report on the northern border patrol?" Garrison's voice boomed against the mahogany walls as he strode in. He wasn't alone. Keyla trailed in his wake like a sleek, predatory shadow.

"It's right on top," I said, my hand trembling slightly as I pointed to the blue folder on the desk. "I organized the entire stack by date this morning."

Garrison snatched up the folder and flipped it open. His face darkened, a storm cloud settling over his features. "This is empty, Janette."

"What?" I rushed forward, panic flaring in my chest. "No, that's impossible. I filed those papers myself."

Keyla leaned against the doorframe, idly examining the sheen of her manicured nails. "Maybe she misplaced them, Garrison. It's a lot of responsibility for someone... of her limited capacity."

I frantically searched the desk, shuffling through stacks of correspondence. The papers were gone. I knew I had filed them. I had double-checked. I wasn't crazy.

"I didn't lose them!" I insisted, my voice rising an octave in desperation. "Someone removed them."

"Are you accusing my staff?" Garrison snapped, slamming the folder shut. "Or are you simply incompetent and looking for a scapegoat?"

The Alpha tone in his voice hit me like a physical slap. My knees buckled, instinct warring with my pride. It was the *Command*-the biological authority he held over everyone in the pack. When an Alpha was truly angry, our very DNA forced us to submit.

"I... I'm sorry," I stammered, the apology tasting like bile. "I'll find them. They have to be here."

"Don't bother," Garrison growled. "Keyla, do you have copies of the border stats from your father's pack?"

"Of course," Keyla purred, pulling a sleek tablet from her designer bag. "I believe in always being prepared, Alpha."

Garrison looked at me with pure, unadulterated disgust. "Get out. You're useless to me here."

I ran. I ran until my lungs burned and the humiliation tears dried on my cheeks, ending up in the one place that still felt like sanctuary-my mother's healing hut at the edge of the forest.

I found Mom hunched over her worktable, examining a withered plant under the harsh light of a magnifying lamp. Usually, this place smelled of dried sage and lavender, but today, the air was sharp and acrid, stinging my nostrils.

"Mom?"

She jumped, her hand instinctively flying behind her back to hide the specimen. "Janette. You're early."

"What is that smell?" I asked, wiping my eyes.

Mom hesitated, then sighed, her shoulders slumping. She pulled the plant back into view. It was a purple flower, beautiful but deadly, its veins black and rotting.

"Wolfsbane," I gasped, the word heavy on my tongue. "That is strictly forbidden within pack lands."

"I found it buried near the water supply for the warriors' barracks," Mom said grimly. "This wasn't wild growth. Someone planted it intentionally."

"Who would do that?"

"Someone who wants to weaken the pack from the inside," Mom said. She looked at me, her eyes narrowing with a healer's intuition. "I went to the main house earlier to deliver Garrison's tonic. I ran into Keyla."

"And?"

"She was sweating. Not from heat, but from adrenaline," Mom explained. "And beneath that cloying perfume she wears... I smelled soil. Fresh, damp soil. And the faint, metallic tang of Wolfsbane sap."

My blood ran cold. "You think Keyla is poisoning the warriors?"

"I think Keyla is doing whatever it takes to prove that this pack is vulnerable without her resources," Mom said darkly. "And to prove that you, the current Luna, are failing to protect them."

"We have to tell Garrison."

Mom shook her head sadly. "He won't hear us. Not without irrefutable proof. He is blinded by the merger. By her."

"So we just let her win? We let her kill people?"

"No," Mom said, her voice fierce. "I'm going to find the source. I found tracks leading toward the old hunting cabin in the north woods. I'm going there tonight to collect samples."

"I'll come with you."

"No!" Mom grabbed my hands, her grip surprisingly strong. "You must stay visible. If we both disappear, it looks suspicious. Go to the dinner tonight. Hold your head high. Let me handle this. I am the Healer. Even an Alpha must respect my word when I present evidence."

I didn't want to leave her. A sense of dread coiled in my stomach, distinct from the usual anxiety of facing Garrison.

"Be careful, Mom."

"Always, my little wolf."

That evening, the dinner was a torture session. Keyla sat at Garrison's right hand, in the seat that should have been mine. She had "accidentally" spilled red wine on my pale silk dress earlier, forcing me to change into an old, ill-fitting gown that pinched at the waist.

"Such a shame about the dress," Keyla announced loudly to the table of Elders. "But I suppose not everyone has the grace to carry off silk."

The Elders chuckled low in their throats. They were old men who respected power above all else, and they sensed the shift in the wind. They were placing their bets on Keyla.

I sat in silence, picking at my food. My skin felt hot. Too hot. For weeks, I had been feeling strange surges of fever, followed by sharp, grinding pains in my bones. I had dismissed it as stress, but tonight, it felt like fire in my veins.

Keyla leaned in, dropping her voice so only I could hear. "Enjoy the meal, Janette. It might be your last one at this table."

I looked up, meeting her gaze. Her eyes were cold, dead things, void of any wolf humanity.

"You won't get away with it," I whispered. "My mother knows."

Keyla's smile didn't waver, but her pupils dilated, swallowing the iris. "Does she? That's unfortunate."

A chill went down my spine, instantly freezing the feverish heat in my blood. I suddenly realized why Keyla was so calm.

"Excuse me," I said, standing up abruptly, my chair scraping loudly against the floor.

"Sit down, Janette," Garrison commanded, not looking up from his steak.

"I need air," I gasped, panic clawing at my throat.

"I said sit down!" His voice boomed, laced with a crushing weight of Alpha power.

My body froze. My muscles locked up against my will, betraying me. I was forced back into the chair, tears of frustration stinging my eyes. I was a prisoner in my own body, held captive by the man who was supposed to cherish me.

I sat there for two hours, unable to move a muscle, while my heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs. *Mom,* I called out in the Mind-Link, sending the thought like a desperate prayer. *Mom, answer me.*

Silence.

Just a vast, terrifying silence where my mother's warm presence used to be.

Janette POV:

The scream that tore from my throat didn't sound human. It was the raw, guttural sound of a wounded animal dying in a trap.

I found her in the herb garden.

She wasn't planting. She was lying face down in the dirt, her basket overturned like a spilled omen.

"Mom!" I fell to my knees, skidding through the mud, grabbing her shoulders to turn her over.

Her skin was gray. Her lips were stained a dark, unnatural violet. The smell of Wolfsbane was so potent it made my eyes water and my throat close up.

"No, no, no," I sobbed, shaking her limp form. "Wake up. Please, Mom, wake up!"

I pressed my ear to her chest. Silence. The heart that had loved me when no one else did had stopped beating.

"What is this racket?" Garrison's voice cut through my grief like a lash.

He stood on the patio, coffee cup in hand, looking down at me as if I were a pest.

Keyla was beside him, wrapped in a silk robe that I recognized. It was mine. The one I had worn on my wedding night.

"She's dead!" I screamed at him, my voice cracking. "My mother is dead!"

Garrison walked down the steps, his face pale but irritatingly composed. He knelt beside the body, checking for a pulse with clinical detachment.

"Wolfsbane," Keyla said, covering her nose with a delicate hand. "Disgusting. Why would the Pack Healer have such a dangerous poison on her? Unless..."

She let the sentence hang in the air, poisonous and sweet.

"Unless what?" I snarled, my vision blurring with red rage. "You did this! She found out about you!"

"Janette!" Garrison snapped. "Control yourself."

"She killed her!" I lunged at Keyla, my fingers curling into claws, ready to tear that stolen robe from her skin.

"Enough!"

Garrison used the Alpha Voice. It hit me like a physical blow to the chest, a crushing weight that slammed me into the earth, knocking the air out of my lungs. I collapsed into the dirt beside my mother's body, gasping, unable to lift my head against the sheer gravity of his command.

"Look at this," Keyla said, pointing to my mother's apron pocket. She reached in and pulled out a small vial with theatrical precision. "Pure Wolfsbane extract. It looks like she was brewing it. Maybe she made a mistake. Or maybe... she was planning to use it on the Alpha."

"Liar!" I tried to scream, but the Alpha Command held my throat shut like an iron collar. I could only make a strangled whimpering sound.

"This is serious," Garrison said, looking at the vial. He looked at my mother's corpse with a cold detachment that broke whatever was left of my heart. "We cannot have a scandal. If the Council finds out the Healer was brewing poison..."

"We should bury her quickly," Keyla suggested softly, leaning into him. "To protect the pack's reputation. And Janette's."

"Do it," Garrison said. He stood up, wiping his hands on his pants as if to clean off the contagion of my grief. He looked down at me. "Get her out of here. She's hysterical."

Two warriors dragged me away. I watched my mother's body get smaller and smaller, leaving trails in the dirt until she was gone.

*

The funeral was a sham. No honors. No pack howl. Just a quick burial in the corner of the cemetery reserved for traitors and outcasts.

I stood by the grave, rain soaking my black dress to my skin. I felt hollow. The pain was so great it had transcended suffering and become a numb void.

Keyla walked up to me as the last shovel of dirt was thrown onto the cheap pine box.

"She shouldn't have gone to the cabin," Keyla whispered, staring at the headstone. "Curiosity kills the cat. Or the wolf, in this case."

I didn't look at her. I stared straight ahead. Inside me, something was burning. A heat that started in my marrow and spread outward. It wasn't the fever of sickness. It was the cold, hard steel of hatred.

"You will pay," I said. My voice was flat, dead.

Keyla laughed. "With what army? You have no allies. You have no family. And soon, you will have no mate."

She was right.

Two days later, I was summoned to the Alpha's office.

Garrison sat behind his desk. The Elders were lined up against the wall like a firing squad. Keyla was sitting in the corner, looking triumphant.

"Janette," Garrison began, not meeting my eyes. "The pack is in a fragile state. The merger with the Dixon pack is the only way to secure our borders and our economy."

"I know," I said.

"Keyla's father has made... conditions," Garrison continued, shuffling papers to avoid looking at me. "He will not merge with a pack whose Luna is... weak. And whose mother was a suspected poisoner."

"So you're casting me out," I said.

"It's for the good of the pack," Garrison said, trying to sound noble. "But I am not heartless. I have arranged a marriage for you."

I blinked, the absurdity of it stinging. "A marriage?"

"Alpha Sterling of the Black Rock Pack has agreed to take you," Garrison said. "In exchange for mining rights."

Alpha Sterling. He was sixty years old. He had buried four wives, all of whom died under "mysterious circumstances." He was known for his cruelty and his perversions.

Garrison wasn't just rejecting me. He was selling me to a butcher to buy mining rights. I was nothing more than currency to him.

The heat inside me flared. It was agonizing. My bones felt like they were vibrating against my skin.

"I see," I said. I didn't cry. I didn't beg. The Janette who begged for crumbs of affection had died in the garden with her mother.

"You accept?" Garrison looked surprised. He had expected a scene, tears, pleading.

"I accept my fate," I lied.

Because I wasn't going to Black Rock. And I wasn't staying here.

I looked at Garrison, really looked at him, and realized the bond was already dead. He had killed it with a thousand cuts of indifference.

"Set the ceremony," I said, my voice devoid of emotion. "Let's get it over with."