TOO LATE, ALPHA: THE BILLIONAIRE LUNA STRIKES BACK

CHAPTER 2: SLAPPING THE ALPHA

ROSETTE’S POV

It was agony. Pure, absolute agony, every nerve in my body stripped raw and set on fire. The bond tore away like roots being ripped from soil, taking pieces of me with it.

I screamed.

Blood poured from my nose, from my mouth where I’d bitten through my tongue. The guards dropped me and I collapsed to the marble, curling in on myself, trying to hold together pieces that were coming apart.

Through it all, I heard them cheering.

The crowd was cheering as my soul was torn apart. Madison pulled Ethan into a kiss while wolves raised champagne glasses and toasted to their future.

Someone kicked me. “Get up, omega trash. You’re ruining the party.”

Rough hands grabbed me again and dragged me through a service door, down a hallway lined with wreaths and garlands, through the back exit.

They threw me into the snow beside the dumpsters. Where the garbage goes. On Christmas Eve.

I lay there for a long time, wine-stained, blood-soaked, broken. Snow soaking through my ruined dress, cold seeping into my bones. Unable to move.

Unable to breathe around the crushing pain where the mate bond used to be.

Somewhere inside, I could hear faint music and laughter. The sounds of a Christmas party continuing without me.

Then everything inside me went very, very still.

I’d spent two years chasing Ethan. Loving him. Desperately hoping my love would teach him to love me back. I’d hidden my power to see if he could want me without luxury and status, testing if he’d treasure me when I appeared worthless.

He’d failed.

And I might have walked away with my head held high if he’d simply rejected me, simply decided I wasn’t what he wanted. But he hadn’t stopped there.

He’d humiliated me. Scorned me before his pack. Let his family abuse me. Cheated with his mistress shamelessly. Threw me out in the snow on Christmas Eve like I was less than nothing.

He made his choice.

Now he was going to learn that hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. They all would.

I pulled my phone from my purse with shaking, bloody hands and dialed a number I’d promised myself I’d never use again.

Three rings.

Then: “Rosette.”

My father’s voice was exactly as I remembered, cold enough to freeze blood, sharp enough to slaughter an army.

“You were right.” I forced the words past the lump in my throat. “He rejected me. Humiliated my wolf. Paraded another woman in front of everyone because he thinks I’m worthless. He failed your test.”

Silence. Then a whisper that barely contained his rage.

“Did he hit you? Did that bastard lay a hand on my only child?”

“No, Papa.” I swallowed hard. “But I can’t say the emotional pain wasn’t worse. For two years. Two bloody years, I was foolish. Weak. I trusted love and the Goddess’ mate bond blindly.” My voice hardened. “No more. I’ll never be that pathetic again.”

“Then it’s time to stop this foolishness,” Alpha King Richard Sinclair said, steel returning to his voice. “Come home. Stop taking those suppressants. The Sinclair throne has been waiting for your return, Rosette.”

I looked up at the Winter Moon, still shining overhead, indifferent to my pain. Snow fell softly around me, landing on my ruined dress, melting against my feverish skin.

“And as for that small-minded mate of yours,” my father’s voice carried the promise of violence, “by morning, Ethan Blackwell will understand exactly who you are. What you are. And what it costs to reject a True Blood Alpha.”

I ended the call.

Then I stood slowly, pain shooting through my scraped palms, through the hollow in my chest where the bond had been ripped away.

The Winter Moon was full and luminous, hanging heavy in the Christmas Eve sky. Under its light, wolves were stronger, more connected to their primal selves. And I was no exception.

Even through two years of suppressants, I felt it. My wolf thrashing inside me. Prancing. Demanding to be free. For the first time in two years, I stopped fighting her.

I embraced it.

Power surged through my veins, electricity and lightning and breathing after drowning all at once.

Strength that dated back generations. Alpha after Alpha. True Blood after True Blood. The Sinclair bloodline flowing through me, ancient and unrivaled.

My eyes snapped open.

Across from me, the pack hall’s glass walls reflected my image back. Eyes glowing violet. True Blood Alpha. The rarest wolf in our world.

Beyond the glass, I could see them. Ethan and Madison swaying on the dance floor. Patricia clapping with maternal pride. Christmas lights twinkling. Snow falling. A perfect holiday scene.

The cage inside me, the one that had held my wolf for two years, finally shattered.

She lunged forward.

And before I could stop her, before I could think, my legs were moving. Carrying me back toward the ballroom entrance with a taste for blood on my tongue.

The music stopped the moment I walked through the ballroom doors.

Conversations died mid-sentence. Heads turned. The celebration atmosphere shifted, uncomfortable and tense.

I stood in the doorway, wine-stained, blood on my lips, snow melting in my hair and dirt streaking my bare arms. But my spine was straight and my eyes glowed violet in the dim light.

Patricia spotted me first. Shock flickered across her face before twisting into fury.

“What are YOU doing back here?” Her voice cut through the silence. “SECURITY! Remove this woman from the premises immediately! Throw her in the nearest snowbank, I don’t care, make sure she never sets foot here again!”

The same guards who’d dragged me out earlier rushed toward me.

My wolf, Kaida, my fierce, pompous, utterly done-with-this-s**t wolf, surged forward with two years of pent-up rage.

I caught the first guard’s wrist before he could touch me.

The strength that flooded through me was intoxicating. No more suppressants dulling my power. No more holding back.

I twisted and threw him. He crashed into the far wall hard enough to crack the plaster, knocking a wreath of silver bells to the floor.

The second guard tried to grab me from behind. I spun, caught him by the collar, and hurled him into a nearby table. Wood splintered. Glasses shattered. A centerpiece of white roses and pine boughs exploded across the floor.

The third guard stopped dead, staring at me with wide eyes.

The ballroom erupted in gasps. Wolves backed away, stumbling over each other to get clear.

On the dance floor, Ethan and Madison stood frozen mid-sway under the glittering chandelier, staring at me like I’d grown a second head.

Patricia’s mouth opened and closed soundlessly before she found her voice.

“What… what are you?”

She looked at me properly now. Really looked. At the violet in my eyes. At the power rolling off me in waves that made nearby wolves step back.

“Have you gone rogue?” Her voice shook. “Has losing the mate bond driven you feral?”

I didn’t answer. I started walking toward the stage where Ethan stood.

The crowd parted without being asked. No one wanted to get close.

I climbed the stairs slowly. Ethan’s expression shifted from shock to fear.

Madison tried to step between us. One look from me and she moved aside.

I stopped directly in front of Ethan.

“Rosette, I—”

My palm connected with his face. Hard. The crack echoed through the silent room. His head snapped to the side and a vivid red mark bloomed on his cheek.

“That’s for humiliating me,” I said. “For cheating on me. For making me feel like I was nothing for two years.”

Ethan touched his face, too stunned to speak.

I turned to Madison, still standing there in her blood-red dress.

Before she could react, I slapped her just as hard.

She stumbled backward with a cry, hand flying to her face.

“And that’s for being a homewrecker.” My voice was calm and cold. “For taking what was never yours. For being an insufferable bitch.”

Madison’s eyes filled with tears, but I felt nothing. Not even satisfaction.

I turned back to the crowd, letting my voice carry through the ballroom.

“I, Rosette Sinclair, formally accept your rejection, Ethan Blackwell.”

The words rang with Alpha Command. Wolves around me winced at the power in them.

“And I reject this pack in return.” I looked around the room, at every face that had mocked me, every wolf who’d called me trash, everyone who’d stood by and watched. “For two years I endured your cruelty. Your mockery. Your contempt.”

My gaze landed back on Ethan. “And for two years, I played the dutiful wife to a man who couldn’t satisfy me in bed if his life depended on it. So small I had to fake everything just to protect his ego.”

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Someone choked on a laugh before cutting it off.

Ethan’s face went from red to white in seconds. “Rosette—”

“Oh, did I embarrass you?” I tilted my head. “How does it feel?”

Patricia had recovered enough to speak, her face purple with rage.

“How DARE you! You pathetic, ungrateful—”

Her hand flew up to slap me. I caught her wrist mid-swing.

She gasped as my fingers tightened enough to grind bone. I twisted her arm down and back until she had no choice but to drop to her knees.

“That’s the last time you ever raise your hand to me.” I leaned down, voice dangerously low. “Remember your place, Patricia Blackwell.”

I released her with a shove. She collapsed, cradling her wrist.

No one moved. No one breathed.

I reached into my purse and pulled out the silver hairpin I’d carried every day for two years.

I secured it into my hair, letting the messy bun fall loose around my shoulders. The silver crest gleamed under the chandelier, catching the glow of fairy lights strung through the evergreen garlands above.

Patricia’s gaze caught on it. Her eyes went wide.

“That hairpin… where did you get that?”

I ignored her.

“You stole it!” Her voice rose to a shriek. “That’s the Sinclair family heirloom! Does the Alpha King know his property was stolen by some—”

“My father gave it to me on my eighteenth birthday.”

The words hung in the air.

Patricia blinked. “What?”

“Perhaps it’s time I reintroduce myself properly.”

I turned to face the entire ballroom, my voice reaching every corner.

“I am Rosette Sinclair. Daughter of Richard Sinclair, Alpha King of the Eastern Territories. Heir to the Sinclair bloodline. True Blood Alpha, the first to manifest in five hundred years.” I paused, letting that sink in. “And for two years, I hid among you, testing if my mate could love me without knowing what I was.” I looked at Ethan. “He couldn’t.”

The crowd erupted in whispers. Shock. Horror. Realization.

“You—” Ethan’s voice was hoarse. “You lied to me. This whole time, you—”

“I tested you,” I corrected. “And you failed spectacularly.”

“You HID who you were!” His shock was morphing into anger now, the kind of rage that comes from humiliation. “You made me look like a fool! You let me reject you without telling me—”

“Would it have mattered?” I cut him off. “If I’d told you I was a Sinclair, would you have treated me differently? Loved me more? Respected me?”

Silence.

“That’s what I thought.” My expression remained unchanged. “You would have wanted me for my name, my power, my father’s influence. Not for me. That’s exactly why I hid it.”

“You played games with my life!” Ethan shouted. “With my pack! My company! You manipulated everything—”

“I gave you everything.” My voice dropped to ice. “My family’s money kept your company afloat. My connections brought you investors. My work built your empire. And you repaid me by cheating, humiliating me, and throwing me away the moment someone ‘better’ came along.” A cold chuckle escaped me. “Thank you for that, actually. For finally bringing me to my senses.”

I turned toward the exit.

“Rosette, wait—” Ethan started after me.

“Don’t.” My voice carried Alpha Command and he froze mid-step, unable to move. “We’re done, Ethan. You got what you wanted. Madison Pierce as your Luna, your precious reputation intact, your rise to Regional Commander complete.” I looked back over my shoulder. “Enjoy it while it lasts. Because by tomorrow, you’ll have nothing.”

I walked toward the doors. This time, the crowd parted without hesitation. Some bowed their heads. Others couldn’t look at me.

As I reached the exit, I heard Patricia’s voice, desperate and shrill:

“This isn’t over! The Sinclair family will hear about this! About what you’ve done! Bloody liar!”

I paused, glanced back.

“Please do call my father. I’m sure he’ll be very interested to hear how his daughter was treated.”

With that, I stepped out into the cold night air. Snow swirled around me, catching the moonlight. Somewhere in the distance, bells chimed midnight. Christmas Day had arrived.

A black limousine was idling at the curb, exhaust pluming white in the freezing air. The driver’s door opened and a man stepped out.

Luther Ives. My father’s head of security. Silver hair, scarred hands, eyes that had seen too much violence.

He’d been shadowing me for two years, invisible, making sure I stayed safe during my “test.”

He took one look at me, bloody and wine-stained and covered in melting snow, and his expression softened in a way I’d never seen before.

“My lady,” he said quietly, opening the back door. “Let’s take you home.”

Once I was inside, breathing deeply for the first time in years, Luther closed the door gently and returned to the driver’s seat. The engine purred to life. Heat flooded the cabin, thawing the cold that had settled into my bones.

As we started pulling away from the Blackwell estate, I heard it. A sound that would haunt me for reasons I didn’t understand yet.

“ROSETTE!”

Ethan’s voice, raw and desperate, screaming my name.

I looked out the window and saw him there. He’d finally broken free of my aura’s hold. Standing in the driveway in his expensive suit, snow catching in his hair, looking destroyed.

“ROSETTE, PLEASE!”

Our eyes met through the tinted glass for just a second.

Then Luther accelerated and the Blackwell estate disappeared behind us, the Christmas lights adorning the iron gates blurring into streaks of gold and white.

My phone started buzzing. Once. Twice. Then continuously, notifications flooding in so fast the screen lit up.

I glanced down.

‘BREAKING NEWS: Sinclair Global Pulls Investment from Blackwell Industries.’

‘Sinclair Global Acquires 15% Additional Stake—Now Owns 75% of Blackwell Industries.’

‘Emergency Board Meeting Called: Blackwell Industries in Crisis.’

‘Major Investors Withdraw Following Sinclair Move.’

A smile tugged at my lips. My father had moved fast. Merry Christmas indeed.

But then the adrenaline that had been holding me together, keeping me upright, keeping me fighting, crashed. All at once.

The pain of the severed bond slammed into my chest. The humiliation. The betrayal. Two years of suppression exploding through me in one devastating wave.

I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.

A scream tore from my throat. Raw, agonized, primal.

“My lady!” Luther’s voice sounded distant, muffled.

My vision blurred. Darkness crept in from the edges. And just before everything went black, I saw him.

A face I’d never seen before. Handsome like the devil himself. Magnetic presence, ruthless gray eyes that gleamed with hunger. Possessive.

He was grinning.

His voice was a whisper that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once:

“I’ve waited too long for you, Little Alpha.”

Then everything went dark.