Rejected By The Alpha: The Starlet's Return

On my eighteenth birthday, as my bones broke and reshaped for my First Shift, I looked up at Autry from the cold marble floor. The Alpha. My guardian. And as the moon decided, my Fated Mate. I reached a trembling hand toward him, desperate for the bond to settle the agony tearing me apart. Instead, he recoiled. "I reject you," he spat, his voice devoid of emotion. Beside him, his Beta mistress smirked, wearing a diamond bought with his pack's debt. He didn't reject me because I was unfaithful; he broke our soul bond because I was a "charity-case Omega" with no political value. He threw a check onto the floor, letting it land in a pool of my own sweat, and gave me one hour to get out. But exile wasn't enough for them. To ensure I couldn't return, they framed me. While I was bleeding out at the border, they released doctored photos accusing me of sleeping with Rogues, destroying my reputation just to save his poll numbers with the council. I watched a livestream of them bulldozing my mother's rose garden, laughing as they erased my existence. He thought I would die in the wild. He thought the rejection had killed my wolf. Five years later, I stepped out of a limousine in front of his corporate tower. I wasn't the scrawny orphan anymore. I was J.B., the face of Vogue, carrying the awakened power of the rare White Wolf bloodline. Autry rushed to meet me, eyes glowing gold, thinking he could simply snap his fingers and get his mate back. He didn't notice the massive sapphire ring on my finger. Or the Alpha of the European Silver Mist Pack standing behind me, ready to tear his throat out if he took one more step.