THE BETRAYED ALPHA

Betrayal.

Such a straightforward word, yet so profound.

Because I was brought into this world without my will, betrayal could be used to characterise my entire life.

A youngster who was never intended to belong anywhere was unwanted and unloved.

In the Novilunium Pack, my mother was an omega.

Her nearly waist-length jet-black hair was styled in a low ponytail. She had gorgeous emerald eyes and thick chocolate skin. According to what I've heard, they were the darkest green, and gazing into them was like seeing directly into the skies. It was as though Aphrodite herself had visited and blessed my mother.

According to what I've heard, she was a stunning dark chocolate wolf with white fur covering her tummy.

Because my mom passed away while giving birth to me, I've never met her.

Wolves who give birth to puppies without their partners run a higher risk of difficulties. The pups hardly ever even make it to birth, and those few that do usually pass away right afterwards.

A rogue wolf beat and sexually assaulted my mother, resulting in an unintended, difficult pregnancy.

Her and her wolf were broken because the rogue wolf had killed her mate when he tried to save her.

They claim that breaking a mate bond is worse than dying and is like getting stabbed a thousand times with knives covered in wolfsbane.

immediate, excruciating agony, then a gradual, enmity-inducing heat that burns your soul.

The night sky was torn by my mother's screams as she changed back into her human form. She sat transfixed in disbelief while clinging to her deceased partner.

The rogue trailed his target, keeping a close check on her with empty amber eyes while waiting for the right time to strike.

He let out a harsh howl, changing from his wolf form just as the heavens started to weep in sorrow over what was happening.

When the insane man seized hold of the woman who was lying in front of him, he sealed my fate as well as hers.

She made an effort to commit suicide in order to kill her pup, but her wolf half was stronger than the human side and prevented her from succeeding. Five agonising months later, Octavia Johnson and I were forced into this horrible world by no fault of our own.

In order to successfully return to our Moon Goddess and her Mate, the man I wish was my father, my lovely mother managed to do it when her wolf was still weak from giving birth to me.

I was smaller than the typical pup due to the difficult pregnancy, so it was only natural that everyone believed I was a burden to the pack. I would never be welcomed or loved again because of a disease that was afflicting the pack at the time.

There has never been a successful, confirmed live birth of a bastard pup from a mated she-wolf in the history of our pack or those in America. I am the first and most likely the only pup to have been born by a man who was not mated to my mother and have survived.

I don't understand why the Moon Goddess chose me or why she allowed me to live while my mother was forced to go. I wish I could change my destiny after being born into such a vicious group.

I've been subjected to the pack's brutality for years. After the unexpected passing of my mother, Alpha Jeremiah declared it to be the law that I would be a pack slave.

Taking the priceless life that our loving Moon Goddess so kindly bestowed upon her was her greatest treachery. They didn't care that she had been sexually assaulted and tormented or that her partner had lost his life attempting to protect her from the rogue wolf. One female wolf only transgressed one of our holy rules, which states that you must never dispute what the Moon Goddess has given you. No matter if it's your life or your partner, Never take the gifts from the Moon Goddess for granted; they are all blessings to be celebrated.

Her one moment of weakness, when she was upset about the darkness engulfing her soul, caused me to suffer for the rest of my life. Every second of the agonising days I am alive, my heart yearns for her as well. In addition, I have to live with the effects of every second since she left me.

The Alpha is a vicious individual who is breeding a pack of vicious wolves. They delight in torturing me. I can see the gloom engulfing them in their eyes. With every vicious hit to the face or kick to the ribs, endorphins are released. The disease that has gotten into their souls on a fundamental level

They started their heinous torture routine when I was old enough to walk.

At age 3, I experienced my first beating. The day is still clearly on my mind. Our pack's beta kicked me while he was passing by for no apparent reason.

That day, I cracked three ribs.

My nose was broken when I was five years old on the first day of school by a bunch of the Elite, which are the progeny of the ranked wolves. While blood covered the floor, laughter resounded throughout the hallways. They walked away and said to me, "Know your place, mutt."

At age 8, the Elite tortured me once more; this time, they held me down and removed all of my hair.

As I lay powerless on the ground, they teased me, calling me "What an ugly mutt you are." The bathroom floor was covered in strands of hair that the screaming, sobbing mess was attempting to gather. One of them spat at them as they passed, "Pathetic, you should just kill yourself, mutt."

Jessica McClain fractured my arm when I was 12 years old. I attempted to take her to lunch at school, and she informed her father, the Beta. They didn't even ask about it.

After that, Beta himself beat me up for attempting to steal anything from his daughter.

He punched me in the jaw, and she grinned from behind him. Before I dozed off in the pack house, a few of my teeth slipped out, and I heard a snap. I was lying on the muddy ground when I woke up to the sound of cold, heavy rain. They abandoned me here in the hopes that I would actually perish after throwing me outside like I was nothing. I am, unfortunately, still alive.

Over the years, the beatings didn't even require a justification; they could have resulted from my merely casting the wrong glance at someone.

The Alpha advised me to be thankful that he still permits me to go to school, and I suppose I am. I would never be able to leave this area without an education. It's impossible for anyone to take in a skinny, uneducated wolf. Any chance I had of escaping would be lost if they ever learned that I intended to flee. They would put me in the dungeons.

Everything in my life has been expensive, from the clothes I wear to the meals I have access to when they permit it. The price could be as minor as a face slap or as serious as a shattered bone. I am just thankful for my wolf-like healing abilities. Without that, there is no way I could exist.

Like the majority of the items in the pack house's basement, the floor I was supposed to sleep on was chilly and damp. An almost forgotten room used to store undesirable items. There was a nest of worn and abandoned bed linens tucked away in a little corner. I found the only solace I ever had in that messy pile.

At the age of 15, as punishment for whatever unimportant act they tried to rationalise, I was sent to bed hungry one lonely and dark night.

Normally, I could last several nights, but because it was already my fourth day without food, I had to stop. I made an effort to enter the kitchen covertly in search of the smallest food item. Maybe if I was incredibly quiet or from the trash. I could stow away anything in the refrigerator.

I had no idea that I wasn't alone in that space. Every move I took was being watched by a pair of jet black, dark eyes.

I overheard the Alpha saying, "What do you think you're doing, mutt?"

frozen in position. I was unable to move. My body began to tremble as fear overcame me.

"Oh, Alpha Jeremiah, I was going to the toilet," I replied.

The Alpha laughed, not because he found my response funny, but because he was getting ready to relish the short-term suffering he would cause me.

He got to his feet, and I braced for a collision. The little creases on the bottoms of his shoes were the last thing I noticed before going unconscious when his foot slammed into my head.

I felt something chilly and wet on my hair when I awoke. The amount of blood in my hair and on the ground makes it appear as though I have a gash and another concussion.

In order to clean the blood off the kitchen floor, I went in search of some cleaning supplies. The last thing I desired was for the Alpha to reappearance and exact revenge on me for the blood I had shed. A kind hand gently stroked my shoulder as I was about to open the supply closet door. I shook because I wasn't prepared for anyone.

All I could hear was, "Don't worry, sweet child, I won't hurt you." Mrs. Ollie, our pack's cook, was standing behind me when I turned around. Her kind and friendly eyes somehow conveyed to me that she was different from the others and wouldn't harm me.

What happened to you, my dear? she enquired. However, I have a sense that, before asking, she already knew.

Everyone is aware that I am the scapegoat and pack slave.

"Don't worry, sweetheart; just follow me, and I'll take care of you. We'll keep it a secret, she assured.

I then went after her.

I followed, even knowing it would get her into trouble and give me another beating.

I needed to feel secure with someone for just a moment.

It's been so long since I've received any kind of kindness or been spoken to as a person rather than a target of abuse.

I wasn't going to refuse the gift if fate permitted it. I would be a foolish girl today and give in to the warmth she is extending to me. I have yearned for even the tiniest amount of love for so long. Since the world has repeatedly treated me badly, I will cherish this moment for the rest of my life. Even if they kill me tomorrow or even if it causes me suffering in the future, at least for today, I have been treated with a small amount of kindness in this awful prison.

We moved to a secret entrance that was next to the kitchen. The cook and the lower Omegas entered through this entrance to reach their quarters. Just barely visible to the eye, scarcely veiled in the shadows. The door that divides the upper ranks from the countless wolves, whose job it is to serve those awful pack leaders,

This wing is home to anyone who works at the pack house and hasn't found or lost their mate. the side opposite the secret door.

For simpler access to the kitchen and cleaning supplies, it is separated from the main living rooms.

Workers must be kept out of the way of warriors and higher-ranking pack members while still being close by and within the house in order to perform their duties effectively.

Even though I detest the purpose I serve, everyone in the pack house has a job to do.