Rejected By My Betrothed, Claimed By The Warlord Alpha

Kalea POV:

"Sister, Emory Lambert is destined to be mine," Dessie Richmond whispered, her voice a poisonous thread slipping through the frigid breeze of the Royal Lunar Garden. "A wolfless cripple like you should crawl back to the gutter where you belong."

Her amber eyes gleamed with malice.

Before I could even process the violent sting of the freezing air on my face, Dessie tilted her body backward, angling herself toward the black waters of the royal ice pond.

She was setting up the exact same trap from my past life.

She wanted the entire court to see her fall, to hear her screams, and to watch me take the blame for attempting to drown the favored younger daughter of the Richmond Pack.

In that past life, everything had favored her. I had screamed in panic and lunged to grab her, my fingers clamping hard around her wrist and leaving livid grip-bruises on her skin.

When we fell, I thrashed and begged Emory to save me, so when he swam straight past me to lift Dessie first, onlookers called it justice — the Champion saving the victim from her attacker.

The healers found my marks on her, and nothing of hers on me. That was enough for a charge of attempted murder.

Now, everything is different. The terrace is crowded with high-ranking nobles, and I know exactly where her nails will land.

I already saw through her act completely. I would play along — and turn her own trap against her.

I did not flinch. Instead, I calmly extended my left arm toward her, offering the loose silver-blue cuff at my wrist as if trying to catch her. Dessie, already falling backward to fake her accident, instinctively clawed out and seized my wrist hard to make it look real, her nails digging deep into my sleeve.

Dessie's smug grin instantly froze.

Her eyes widened in shock as she realized she had grabbed me first. Before she could let go, I stopped resisting. I leaned into her pull and let her own backward momentum drag us both off the marble edge together.

A chorus of shrill gasps erupted from the noble onlookers lining the snow-dusted terrace.

Then came the deafening crash of freezing water.

The shock of the sub-zero pond slammed into my chest, squeezing every drop of air from my lungs.

The weight of our velvet winter gowns pulled us straight into the dark depths.

Dessie thrashed wildly, her arms flailing like a dying bird as her silken skirts tangled around her legs.

Even as she thrashed, her right hand remained locked around my left wrist, her nails tearing frantically at my silk cuff.

Her mouth opened in a silent scream under the water, bubbles bursting around her terrified, contorted face.

Unlike my past self, I did not scream, did not beg, did not leave a single mark on her. I stared back at her through the murky blue, cold and completely still.

Pain tore through my limbs, but my mind was clearer than it had ever been in my two lifetimes.

Above the surface, muffled shouts vibrated through the water.

"Someone help! The Richmond ladies have fallen in!"

Through the rippling surface, a familiar silhouette tore off his heavy velvet cloak on the bank.

Emory Lambert.

The newly crowned Champion Knight of the Grand Royal Trials, and my betrothed.

He dove into the water with a clean, powerful slice.

His eyes scanned the depths, searching desperately.

He looked right past my sinking form.

Without a single glance in my direction, Emory swam furiously toward Dessie, wrapping his strong arms around her waist to haul her toward the light.

A bitter, silent laugh bubbled in my throat.

He was supposed to be my promised mate by royal decree, yet his body reacted purely on instinct to save my illegitimate half-sister.

I let my limbs go limp, allowing the darkness of the pond to drag me downward.

I needed this.

I needed every high-ranking noble on that terrace to see him choose her over me.

Darkness began to creep into the edges of my vision.

My lungs burned for oxygen.

Then, the water exploded behind me.

A massive shockwave ripped through the freezing depths, stirring a violent current that pushed the weeds aside.

A shadow moved with terrifying, predatory speed.

Before I could even register the beast-like force tearing through the water, a pair of scalding, calloused hands locked onto my waist.

The grip was unyielding, made of pure steel.

I was yanked violently against a broad, rock-hard chest.

Even submerged in ice, the overwhelming scent of crushing cedar and raw, wild musk flooded my senses, piercing straight through the freezing haze in my mind.

It was the aura of a dominant, top-tier Alpha.

Yet the moment his skin touched mine, the suffocating pressure of his command miraculously softened, wrapping around my freezing body like an invisible shield.

I forced my heavy eyelids open.

Through the distorted water, I looked directly into a pair of piercing, golden-amber wolf eyes.

Gaines Moss.

The notorious young lord of the Moss Pack, heir to the northern iron legions, and widely feared across the capital as an uncontrollable, violent rogue Alpha.

There was no cruelty in his gaze.

Only a dark, frantic intensity that bordered on madness.

The moment my wet shoulder pressed against his collarbone, a sharp, electric jolt surged from his palm straight down my spine.

My frozen muscles trembled beneath the sheer heat of his touch.

Gaines's jaw tightened.

His arm banded around my waist with possessive force, pulling me flush against him as his powerful legs kicked against the current, launching us toward the surface like an arrow.

On the other side of the pond, Emory was already breaking through the surface with Dessie clutched tightly against his chest.

The freezing air hit my face in a violent rush as Gaines hauled me out of the water, his long fingers instinctively cradling the back of my head to shield me from the jagged marble edge.

The deafening roar of the royal court swept over us in an instant.

Kalea POV:

Gaines hoisted me onto the frosted stone bank with a single, effortless pull.

I collapsed onto my hands and knees, coughing up bitter mouthfuls of pond water while the freezing wind whipped my soaked hair across my face.

A few paces away, Emory stumbled onto the grass, carrying a weeping Dessie in his arms.

Dessie clung to Emory's soaked tunic, her fingers digging into his chest as she pointed a trembling, pale hand directly at me.

"She pushed me!" Dessie wailed, her voice echoing across the courtyard for every noble Lord and Lady to hear. "Kalea tried to kill me! She dragged me into the ice!"

Emory pulled Dessie tighter against him, his handsome face twisting with righteous disgust as he glared down at me.

"Kalea, you have lost your mind!" Emory barked, his voice carrying the full weight of a high-born knight. "Dessie is your sister! How could your heart be so vicious?"

The surrounding nobles immediately began to murmur, their judgmental gazes stinging like nettles against my skin.

"Look at her... a wolfless cripple with no inner wolf, and yet so full of spite."

"She knows she cannot hold a knight like Lord Lambert, so she attacks her own kin."

I pushed myself up from the cold flagstones.

Water dripped from my ragged skirts, but I stood with my spine straight, refusing to shake beneath their contempt.

I did not offer a tearful excuse.

I did not beg Emory to look at me.

Instead, I took three calm, measured steps across the wet gravel, stopping directly in front of Dessie where she sat nestled in my betrothed's arms.

Dessie looked up at me, a flicker of triumphant cruelty dancing in the depths of her wet eyes.

I raised my right hand and swung it with every ounce of strength in my body.

Smack!

The sharp crack of flesh against flesh echoed off the high stone arches like a whip cracking through the garden.

Dessie's head snapped sideways.

She tumbled out of Emory's lap onto the frozen mud, her hair coming undone as five bright crimson welts bloomed across her pale cheek.

The entire garden plunged into absolute silence.

No one had ever seen the quiet, submissive Richmond daughter strike a single blow in her life.

"Kalea!" Emory roared, his hand instantly dropping to the silver pommel of his ceremonial sword. "Are you insane? You dare strike her in front of the entire court?"

I looked into his furious eyes, completely unfazed by the threat of steel.

"I answer to the laws of the Moon Goddess and the King," I said, my voice ringing out clear and steady. "If my sister insists that I violently shoved her into the pond with murderous intent, then let the Royal Healers examine her body right here, right now."

Emory's brow furrowed.

Dessie froze on the ground, her hand flying to her swollen cheek.

"If she was pushed with violent force," I continued, staring down at them both, "her shoulders, neck, and arms will bear the bruising of a struggle. A wolfless girl cannot push an able-bodied wolf without leaving heavy marks."

Dessie's breath hitched.

She quickly clutched her sodden collar shut, her voice rising in panic.

"No... there is no need! Everyone saw it! Emory, please take me away, I am freezing..."

"A refusal to be examined is an admission of deceit," I cut her off cleanly, turning my head toward the two white-robed figures pushing through the crowd. "Healers of the royal court, do your duty."

The two royal healers, bound by strict crown oaths, did not hesitate.

They stepped past the hesitating guards and knelt beside Dessie, ignoring her frantic squirming.

A faint golden light flared from the chief healer's fingertips as he pressed his palm against her collarbone, neck, and wrists.

After a few tense seconds, the senior healer stood up and addressed the gathered court.

"Lady Dessie bears no defensive bruising, no grip marks, and no signs of blunt force on her upper body."

The crowd stirred.

The healer lifted his hand, holding up several fine threads of silver-blue silk plucked from beneath Dessie's fingernails.

"However, the silk fibers under her nails match the fabric of Lady Kalea's left wrist. The physical evidence shows Lady Dessie reached out and grabbed Lady Kalea first."

A wave of sharp murmurs swept through the terrace.

The sneers that had been aimed at me flipped instantly toward the girl cowering in the mud.

Emory's face turned an ugly shade of crimson.

His hand slowly dropped from his sword, caught entirely off guard by the undeniable proof.

He swallowed hard, stepping toward me with a stiff, apologetic expression.

"Kalea... Dessie was merely frightened by the water. She lost her head. Here, let me give you my cloak—"

"Do not touch me, Knight Lambert," I said, stepping back so his fingers grabbed empty air. "Had the healers not been here, you would have gladly watched the executioner take my head for a crime she fabricated."

A low, mocking chuckle rumbled from behind me.

Gaines Moss was leaning casually against a carved marble pillar, wringing the pond water from the sleeve of his black tunic.

His golden wolf eyes burned with raw contempt as he looked at Emory.

"The grand Champion of the Trials cannot even tell the difference between an attack and a desperate cling," Gaines drawled, his deep voice carrying easily over the garden. "It seems the crown handed a silver sword to a blind fool."

Emory gritted his teeth, his knuckles turning white, but he dared not draw a blade against the heir of the Moss Pack.

Before another word could be spoken, the heavy, synchronized thud of armored boots sounded from the grand colonnade.

The royal guard parted the sea of nobles, their golden wolf banners fluttering in the freezing wind.

Kalea POV:

The crowd parted instantly as the Luna Queen swept into the garden pavilion, flanked by four high court maidens and a dozen royal guards.

Her deep sapphire gown trailed across the stone, and the sheer authority radiating from her high-born Alpha bloodline made the surrounding nobles bow their heads in reverent silence.

Dessie saw her chance.

She dragged herself across the muddy flagstones, sobbing hysterically toward the Queen's feet.

"Your Majesty! Please, have mercy!" Dessie wept, intentionally letting her torn, soaked chemise slip from her shoulder to expose the curve of her neck to the cold air. "My virtue has been ruined in front of the entire court! I fell into the water with Knight Lambert... our bodies touched before all these witnesses! The ancient pack honor demands that he take me as his true, lawfully bound mate!"

She was trying to use the old modesty laws to force a marriage right then and there.

A dry scoff came from the pillar behind me.

"Threw herself in the water, botched the lie, and now she is selling her virtue like cheap meat," Gaines sneered loudly, crossing his thick arms over his chest. "The females of the Richmond Pack truly know how to haggle in the mud."

Dessie flinched as if struck, and Emory bowed his head in sheer humiliation.

The Luna Queen looked down at Dessie with cold, unyielding disgust.

"The royal gardens are sacred ground," the Queen said, her voice cutting through the frosty air like a steel blade. "You dare use cheap trickery to seduce your sister's betrothed and fabricate lies in our presence?"

The Queen flicked her golden folding fan, delivering her verdict without a second thought.

"Dessie Richmond has shown herself to be deceitful and lacking all honor. By royal decree, she is stripped of her right to attend tonight's Debutante Ball and is demoted to a Disgraced Omega, forever Unworthy of a Mate-Bond."

A strangled gasp ripped from Dessie's throat.

She collapsed entirely into the puddle.

To be branded a Disgraced Omega meant she was legally barred from ever becoming a recognized pack Luna or a knight's lawful wife.

Her grand ambitions had been gutted with a single sentence.

Before I could savor the look of despair on her face, a heavy weight dropped over my shoulders.

Gaines had stepped up beside me.

Without asking for permission, he wrapped his massive, dry black fur cloak around my shivering frame.

The thick pelt was radiating intense Alpha heat, saturated with the rich, intoxicating scent of pine and fresh cedar.

It drove away the bone-deep chill in an instant.

Gaines leaned down slightly, his lips brushing dangerously close to the tip of my cold ear.

"You have sharp claws, little bird," he murmured... "Shame your body is made of glass." My pulse jumped, but I did not pull the cloak away.

I forced myself to whisper so only he could hear: "Why help me, Lord Moss? I am wolfless, still betrothed, and a trouble that burns whoever touches it."

Gaines lowered his eyes to my frozen hands clutching his cloak.

"Because I hate men who abandon their own mate to save face," he said quietly.

He glanced toward the golden guards herding us to the throne room.

"Walk behind me into that hall, little bird. I give you my word—if Jaheim touches you again today, my spear will answer before the King does. Doubt me? Then watch."

I stared at him. I did not fully believe him—I have believed no one in two lifetimes—but his heat was real, and I needed a living shield to survive the throne. I chose to gamble on this mad dog once.

I held the thick fur closed over my chest, meeting his burning amber gaze with a steady nod.

"Silence!"

The sharp voice of Elder Silas Silas Foster echoed from the archway.

The king's personal golden guard formed two rigid lines along the path.

"By royal command of Alpha King Alistair," Foster announced, unrolling a gilded scroll. "The daughters of the Richmond Pack, Knight Lambert, and Lord Gaines Moss are summoned immediately to the High Throne Room!"

There was no room for argument.

Two handmaidens tossed a rough woolen blanket over the trembling Dessie, and our group was marched through the towering black iron corridors toward the central palace.

We stepped into the grand hall.

Massive black stone pillars carved in the likeness of howling dire wolves supported a vaulted ceiling lit by thousands of iron chandeliers.

Dozens of high elders and powerful Pack Alphas lined both sides of the throne room, their heavy Alpha auras saturating the air with suffocating tension.

At the far end, seated upon the colossal throne of white wolf bones, sat Alpha King Alistair in his golden battle armor.

And standing in the center of the hall, waiting with a face dark as thunder, was my father—Jaheim Richmond, Pack Alpha of the Richmond territory.

Jaheim's cruel eyes locked onto me the moment I walked in.

Seeing me wrapped in Gaines's cloak while Dessie shuffled behind in mud-stained rags made the veins in his neck bulge with fury.

Before I could even cross the marble threshold to bow before the throne, Jaheim broke rank and charged across the floor.

"You worthless, ungrateful mutt!" Jaheim roared, his mid-tier Alpha aura exploding in a violent shockwave. "You bring disgrace to our name and dare plot against your own sister?"

He did not wait for an explanation.

His heavy, leather-gauntleted hand swung through the air with brutal, bone-shattering force.

Crack!

The blow struck the side of my face so hard it sent me crashing sideways onto the freezing marble floor.

My head slammed against the stone, and the warm, metallic taste of blood instantly filled my mouth.