She Was Unwanted, Now She's Queen

For three years, I swallowed a bitter pill daily, suppressing my royal white wolf bloodline for a normal life as the Alpha's Luna. That morning, my husband Santino coldly announced a crucial announcement, then entered our grand hall with another woman, declaring, "Alessia, she will be living here from now on."

She was pregnant, he announced, carrying our late Beta's child-yet her neck was unmarked. My scoff met his furious Alpha dominance, threatening my title, forcing my bow as he settled her into the suite next to ours.

Her sickening scent soon permeated my private study. Later, I found him intimately grooming her in the kitchen-a sacred act for mates-while he snarled mental insults, branding my jealousy pathetic.

Watching his hands violate our vows, a slow, cruel smirk pulled at my lips. My three-year marriage was officially over. I had already paused my royal trust fund's capital, then severed our mind link with a chilling declaration: "Don't touch me with the hands that just touched her."

Chapter 1

Alessia POV:

I sat on the edge of the cold double bed, my head bowed as I stared at the small white suppressant pill resting in the center of my palm.

The bedroom was silent, the kind of heavy, suffocating silence that follows a storm. The chill of the mattress seeped through my thin nightgown, but I barely felt it. My focus was entirely on the chalky disk in my hand. This tiny pill was the chain I willingly placed around my own neck every single morning for three years. It was the price I paid to suppress my royal white wolf bloodline, to hide my true identity, all for the sake of a normal life. A normal husband. A normal pack.

My mind drifted to last night. Santino had stood right there by the door. His broad back was turned to me, his posture rigid and uncompromising. He didn't even look over his shoulder when he delivered his cold ultimatum. He told me he had something important to announce today. His voice had carried no warmth, no affection. Just the sterile tone of an Alpha giving a command to a subordinate.

My fingers curled inward. My nails dug into the soft flesh of my palm, leaving deep, crescent-shaped indentations. The physical sting grounded me.

I didn't reach for the glass of water on the nightstand. I tossed the dry pill into my mouth and swallowed hard.

The chalky texture scraped against my throat. A bitter, chemical taste exploded on my tongue and crawled down the back of my throat. I squeezed my eyes shut as the familiar poison went to work.

Within seconds, the drug hit my bloodstream. Deep inside my chest, the ancient, restless power of the white wolf let out a muffled whimper before sinking back into a forced, unnatural sleep. The heavy lethargy settled into my bones. I was used to this weakness. I had sworn to live as an ordinary werewolf, to build a humble family, and this daily dosage of poison was my commitment to that vow.

A wave of dizziness washed over me. The room tilted. I reached out blindly and gripped the edge of the heavy oak nightstand to steady myself. My knuckles turned white from the effort. I waited for the spinning to stop, taking slow, measured breaths.

Once the nausea passed, I pushed myself up from the bed and walked over to the floor-to-length mirror standing in the corner of the room.

The woman staring back at me looked pale. Dark circles bruised the skin under my brown eyes. But despite the physical frailty, my posture was ramrod straight. My chin was tilted up. The innate pride of my bloodline was something no chemical could completely erase.

I smoothed my hands down the front of my dark blue silk dress. The color and fabric were traditional symbols of the Luna, the female leader of the Silver Creek pack. I made sure there wasn't a single wrinkle.

I turned away from the mirror and walked toward the carved wooden door of the master bedroom.

I wrapped my hand around the cold brass doorknob and twisted it slowly.

The hinges let out a faint friction sound as the door swung open. I stepped out into the wide, carpeted hallway.

Instantly, the hushed, frantic whispers of the pack maids drifted up from the first floor. They were speaking fast, their tones laced with shock and suppressed excitement.

I walked to the top of the grand staircase. The moment my foot touched the top landing, the whispering stopped dead. The silence below was absolute.

I took a breath, and my nose flared. Even with the suppressants dulling my senses, a foreign scent hit the back of my throat.

It was a sickening mixture. The cloying, artificial sweetness of rotting peaches layered over the distinct, sour stench of a stray wolf. My stomach heaved. The royal blood in my veins reacted violently to the inferior, unbonded genetics. It was a physical, visceral disgust.

My brows slammed together. I gripped the banister and looked down at the luxurious, marble-floored entryway.

Outside the heavy oak front doors, the deep rumble of an expensive car engine cut off abruptly.

The brass lock clicked loudly. The massive doors were pushed open from the outside.

A rush of cold morning wind swept into the grand hall. It caught the giant crystal chandelier hanging from the vaulted ceiling, making the glass pendants clink against each other like warning bells.

Santino stepped over the threshold. His tall, imposing frame was clad in a custom-tailored charcoal suit. His dark hair was perfectly styled.

I stood motionless on the stairs, looking down at my husband from my elevated position.

Usually, when he returned from a trip, he would look up, find me on the stairs, and offer a curt nod. Today, he didn't even glance in my direction.

Instead, he turned his body slightly sideways. He extended one arm backward, his hand hovering in a protective, shielding gesture over the space behind him. My chest tightened. That specific, possessive stance was the exact way he used to shield me when we first met. Now, he was giving it to someone else.

A woman stepped out from behind his broad back. She was wearing a thin, flimsy white dress that offered no protection against the cold. She looked around the grand hall with wide, timid eyes.

Her pale fingers reached out and grabbed the sleeve of Santino's expensive suit jacket. She gripped the dark fabric so tightly her knuckles turned stark white.

The air in the grand hall turned to stone. The maids standing by the walls kept their heads bowed, absolutely rigid. No one dared to take a full breath.

My eyes locked onto the woman's face. She had large, watery eyes and a trembling lower lip. It was a perfectly constructed mask of pitiful vulnerability.

Santino finally lifted his head. His dark eyes met mine. There was no hesitation, no guilt, and absolutely no warmth in his gaze.

"Alessia, she will be living here from now on."

Alessia POV:

Santino's declaration echoed off the marble floors and vaulted ceilings of the grand hall. The words hung in the cold air, heavy and absolute.

I didn't move. I kept my hands resting lightly on the oak banister, maintaining my position on the upper stairs. I looked down at them, my face perfectly blank.

My gaze drifted from Santino's hard jaw down to the woman standing half-hidden behind him. I stared specifically at her flat stomach beneath the thin white fabric.

Santino cleared his throat. The sound was loud in the dead silence. "Valentina is pregnant," he announced, his voice carrying the firm weight of an Alpha. "She is carrying the child of our late Beta."

Right on cue, Valentina lowered her head. Her shoulders hitched up, and a small, pathetic sob escaped her lips. Two perfect tears rolled down her cheeks.

My eyes narrowed. The royal training drilled into me since childhood kicked in automatically. I bypassed her fake tears and scanned the bare skin of her neck. I was looking for the raised, scarred flesh of a mate mark.

There was nothing. The skin was completely smooth. Valentina noticed my stare and deliberately reached up, pulling the collar of her dress down just a fraction more to expose her unmarked shoulder.

A sharp, breathy scoff escaped my lips.

The sound was incredibly soft, but in the pin-drop silence of the entryway, it cracked like a whip.

Santino's head snapped up. His thick eyebrows crashed together over his nose. His jaw clenched tight. He was the Alpha of Silver Creek; he was not used to his authority being questioned, especially not by the wife he believed to be weak and submissive.

Valentina let out a tiny gasp and shrank closer against Santino's side. She buried her face in his shoulder, trembling like a frightened rabbit.

I stood straight, my spine stiff. I opened my mouth, my voice ringing out clear and steady. "Article four hundred and two of the Territory Security Law."

The maids standing along the walls gasped softly. Several of them exchanged wide-eyed, terrified glances.

"Unmarked stray wolves are strictly prohibited from taking residence within the central pack house," I stated, reciting the law verbatim. My tone was clinical, devoid of any emotion.

Santino's face drained of color, then flushed a dark, furious red.

He stared at me as if I had grown a second head. For three years, I had nodded, smiled, and agreed with every decision he made. He thought he owned my obedience. He had no idea that my knowledge of pack law came from a lifetime of royal leadership training.

Suddenly, Valentina let out a sharp, breathless whine. Her hands flew to her flat stomach, and she doubled over slightly.

Santino's attention snapped back to her. He wrapped his thick arm securely around her waist, pulling her flush against his side. "Are you alright?" he demanded urgently.

He snapped his head back toward me. The dark brown of his irises vanished, replaced by the glowing, blood-red light of an enraged Alpha.

The air in the grand hall instantly thickened. The scent of pine, usually crisp and clean, turned sharp and suffocating. It smelled like burning needles and raw aggression.

The maids couldn't handle the physical weight of his dominance. One by one, their knees hit the marble floor. They curled into themselves, pressing their foreheads to the ground, whimpering in pain.

A crushing, invisible weight slammed down onto my shoulders. It felt like a solid block of concrete had been dropped on my spine.

Because of the suppressant I had swallowed just minutes ago, my body was already weak. My knees buckled slightly. My thigh muscles trembled violently under the dress as they fought to keep me upright.

I clamped my jaw shut. My teeth ground together so hard my jaw ached. I curled my fingers around the thick oak railing and squeezed.

My fingernails bit into the polished wood. I pushed down with all my remaining strength, using the banister as a crutch.

I forced my knees to lock. I shoved my shoulders back. I would die before I let my knees touch the floor in front of this stray.

Santino watched me fighting his aura. The fact that I was still standing only fueled his rage. The red glow in his eyes flared brighter.

He took a heavy step forward. He unleashed the absolute maximum output of his Alpha aura, directing the entire crushing force straight at me.

The pressure inside my chest spiked. A sharp, metallic taste coated my tongue. Warm blood seeped from my gums.

Santino bared his teeth, his voice a deep, vibrating growl that shook the floorboards.

"Move out of the way, before I strip you of your title right here."

Alessia POV:

Santino's warning tore through the grand hall, carrying a bone-chilling coldness that made the hairs on my arms stand up.

The invisible weight of his Alpha aura pressed against my chest. My lungs were being squeezed tight, forcing the oxygen out in shallow, burning gasps.

I swallowed the metallic tang of blood pooling in my mouth. My brain raced, analyzing the variables.

The suppressant was at its peak concentration in my bloodstream. Fighting back physically right now was a tactical error. The royal survival code pounded in my head: endure, calculate, and strike only when the advantage is absolute. Pride without power was just stupidity.

Slowly, deliberately, I loosened my death grip on the oak banister. My fingers ached as they uncurled from the wood.

I bowed my head. I let my chin drop toward my chest, breaking eye contact with his glowing, blood-red stare. I let my shoulders slump just a fraction, mimicking the physical posture of a submitted wolf.

Santino let out a harsh, satisfied scoff. The suffocating pressure in the room vanished in a split second.

The air rushed back in. Below me, the maids gasped loudly, dragging oxygen into their lungs as they slowly pushed themselves up from the floor.

I took a small step backward, moving to the far edge of the landing. I pressed my back against the wall, leaving the center of the staircase wide open.

Santino didn't waste another second. He wrapped his arm tightly around Valentina's waist and marched toward the stairs. He walked with heavy, arrogant steps, wearing the pride of a conqueror.

They reached the top landing. As they passed me, Valentina suddenly shifted her weight. She leaned into my space and slammed her shoulder hard against mine.

My body was still trembling from the drug and the physical exertion. The impact knocked me off balance. My heel slipped on the edge of the carpet. I stumbled backward, my hand flailing out to catch the wall just before I tipped down the steps.

Santino didn't even turn his head. He didn't check to see if I had fallen. He just kept walking down the hallway.

I pushed myself off the wall. I stood perfectly still, watching their retreating backs.

Santino stopped in front of the largest guest suite, the one located directly next to our master bedroom. He reached out and pushed the heavy door open for her.

My expression was entirely blank. But deep inside my chest, a heavy iron door slammed shut. The three-year sentence I had served in this marriage was officially over. I pronounced it dead.

I turned on my heel and walked in the opposite direction, heading straight for my private study at the far end of the corridor.

I stepped inside and pushed the door shut. I turned the deadbolt. The heavy click of the lock sealed me off from the rest of the house.

My legs finally gave out. I stumbled toward the leather sofa in the center of the room and collapsed onto the cushions. My limbs felt like lead.

I lay there in the silence. The grandfather clock in the corner ticked the hours away. Outside the window, the bright afternoon sun slowly faded into a bruised purple twilight, and then into pitch black.

The automated security lights of the territory flickered on, casting long shadows across the lawn.

I sat up. The worst of the drug's immediate fatigue had passed. My breathing was steady again.

The room felt stuffy. I stood up and walked over to the wall panel, hitting the switch to open the central air conditioning vents.

A rush of cool air blew down from the ceiling grate. But it wasn't the crisp, clean scent of pine and fresh linen I was used to.

A thick, nauseating wave of cheap, rotting peach perfume poured out of the vent. The central system was circulating the air from her room into mine.

My stomach violently rebelled. I slapped my hand over my mouth, gagging hard.

I slammed my hand against the control panel, shutting the vent completely.

The silence returned, but the smell lingered. It was a physical violation. A werewolf's scent marks their territory. Smelling her in my locked sanctuary meant my home was already gone.

I walked over to the heavy mahogany desk. I pressed the power button on the computer.

The screen flickered to life, casting a harsh blue glow over my pale, cold face. I typed in the encrypted password for the territory's master financial system.

The dashboard loaded. I moved the mouse, navigating straight to the fund withdrawal and transfer page.

"Since you like providing for someone else, use your own money."