Rejected. Aria: From omega to Alpha queen

Secret

Aria’s POV

I landed flat on my back, the dry grass scratched my skin through my clothes. My bodysuit was tight on me, making it hard to breathe. I raised my hands in surrender, my chest raising and falling fast.

“You are too weak—we, the shadow claw, are not known for weakness,” Lira said, her voice firm as she looked down at me.

I raised a brow in question and she smirked. We ended up laughing and the tension left for a moment.

Lira reached out her hand and I took it. Her grip was strong and balanced as she pulled me to my feet.

Around us, the sound of training filled the air, and the senior wolf guards gave orders in deep voices. The late afternoon sun spread a golden glow, making the blades shine.

The training ground was wide and open, the grass dry. Wooden dummies stood in neat rows, their surfaces marked with deep cuts from past training. Spears and short blades were placed on weapon racks. A few warhorses stood tied to posts, flicking their tails and snorting.

It had been three weeks since I arrived in the Shadowclaw pack village, though it still didn’t feel like home. I received stares from people and I saw questions all over their faces . I knew some saw me as a spy—to learn their weaknesses and give away their secrets.

If not for Lira, the days would have felt heavier. She had a way of making me comfortable. She seemed to know when I needed her without me having to say a word.

Being born a Beta gave her privileges unlike me.

Her home stood in the ground home of Alpha. The Alpha’s residence rose in the center, built from stone. Around it, smaller but still grand houses lined the inner court — homes reserved for those the Alpha trusted most and guards patrolled the gates.

Lira had grown up here, a privilege given not to ordinary wolves but to those of high rank. Her father was the Beta — the Alpha’s right hand, the second-strongest wolf in the pack, and the one who would lead in the Alpha’s absence.

Ever since I regained consciousness in her room, things changed between us. At first, I was intimidated and scared of her, but ever since our frequent conversations at the bathroom together, we laughed and played. She was no longer just the stranger who tended to my wounds—she had become my best friend.

The first friend I never had.

I had always dreamed of a friend. Someone I would play with. But the neglect I got from my pack made me have none.

She was a warrior — I could tell from the way she carried herself.

The second week after I woke up, she began to train me. At dawn, she would drag me out and lead me to the training grounds.

The air was always cool, the grass still damped with morning dew. I was never used to it, but I gave it my all.

Lira fought well. Her strikes were fast and her defenses smooth. I tried to follow her moves, to mimic the way she moved her body but my limbs never moved like hers. I stumbled. I missed targets. My arms always grew heavy before the morning was halfway done.

So far, I learnt nothing from her. Every session ended with me flat on my back, staring at the sky while she stood over me, laughing like she knew I would fall.

“You’re thinking too much,” she would say, offering her hand to pull me up. “Strength isn’t just muscle. It’s knowing when to move… and when to stay still.”

I wasn’t sure if she was talking about fighting or about life.

Still, she never grew impatient. If anything, my failure seemed to amuse her. She would laugh, shake her head, and show me the move again — as if she believed I might get it right eventually.

Sometimes I wondered why she bothered. She could have spent her mornings training with the wolfguards or hunting with the others. But she stayed with me.

Maybe that’s what friendship looked like— someone standing beside you, even when you were hopeless. And every time she reached out her hand to lift me from the ground, I found myself wanting, more than anything, to one day stand tall beside her… as her equal.

With time, I learned more about her than I ever expected. Lira was not just a warrior because she trained hard — she was born into it. Her mother was unlike anyone else in the pack. She was a witch.

It was from her mother that Lira inherited her gift — the ability to heal wounds —not just with herbs, but with the touch of her hands and the whisper of a spell.

She healed my wounds .

They say children born of both wolves and witches are rare. The strength of the wolf’s body mixed with the witch’s magic makes them dangerous, almost untouchable. But Lira was different.

Lira was the only child her parents ever had. Her father raised her as he would a son — training her to fight, to lead, to stand firm when others would fall. From her mother, she learned patience, wisdom, and the art of seeing beyond what lay on the surface.

Despite her strength, she had no mate. She never spoke of why, and I never asked, but I sometimes caught the pain in her eyes when others mentioned love or bonds. Perhaps she waited for someone who could match her in every way — or she had decided she didn’t need one.

In the eyes of the pack, she was both feared and admired. To me, she was simply Lira — the friend who dragged me to the training pitch at dawn, who scolded me when I slacked off, and who stayed by my side long after everyone else had left.

Lira had always thought I didn’t remember anything about myself. She asked me questions often, sometimes casually, sometimes with that sharp, searching look she got when she was trying to read the truth off my face.

“Where did you come from?”

“What’s your family like?”

“Why were you alone in the forest?”

I always smiled faintly, shrugged, or looked away. I let her believe what everyone else did — that the three days I’d been unconscious had stolen my memories. It was easier that way. Easier than telling her about the pack I left behind. Easier than speaking Kael’s name.

I didn’t want anyone to know. Not about my pack. Not about my rejected mate. Not about the way his rejection had burned through me like fire and left me broken. That was a part of me I wanted to bury so deep no one could ever dig it out.

I didn't even want to remember.

I wanted to live as I was now — nameless to them, unbound to my past.

I wanted to learn how to fight, to harden myself until no one could break me again. And more than anything… I wanted revenge.

Kael.

Just thinking his name made my heartbeat slow.

One day, I told myself. One day, I would be strong enough to stand before him, to make him see me — not as the girl he threw away, but as the one who would bring him to his knees.

That was why I trained. Why I let Lira drag me into the dust and grass every morning. Why I let my muscles ache until I could barely stand.

They thought they’d found me broken, lying in the forest with no memory of who I was. They thought I was fragile, lost, grateful for their mercy.

But inside, I was sharper than they knew. I was hiding myself in plain—burying my truth.

Every time Lira asked me, “Do you remember anything yet?” I shook my head, my voice soft. “No. Nothing.”

It was a lie I’d grown comfortable with. The more I said it, the more they believed it. And the more they believed it, the safer my secret stayed.

Because if they knew the truth — if they knew my history, my connection to another Alpha’s pack, my bond to a mate who had rejected me — if they knew I was an omega. They might see me differently. They might send me away. Or worse… they might pity me.

I didn’t need pity.

I needed strength. I needed skill. I needed discipline.

So I smiled when I had to, laughed when Lira teased me, and trained until my body got tired. All the while, my secret stayed locked inside me — my past, my pain, and my plan.

One day, Kael would regret ever letting me go.

As months passed, I found joy again. Lira became the family I lost— the companion I needed.

We trained more, practiced with swords, and bare hands. I fell less with time. My feet became balanced before they slipped. I could block some of her strikes—not all, but enough to make her raise an eyebrow in approval.

And then there were the hunts. Lira said hunting wasn’t just about fangs and claws—it was about patience, about learning to move with sights instead of against it.We stalked deer in the quiet forests with bows in hand. Sometimes we came back with nothing, but we always came back happy.

On days when we didn’t hunt, we raced horses across the fields. Lira always won, but I was getting closer, and she knew it.

With every week, I realized I was no longer the weak, broken girl they found in the woods. My hands were stronger. My legs were firm. I fought longer before collapsing, and when I did, I got up faster.

Our bond grew deeper. She could read my moods without a word. And I trusted her enough to share everything… except the truth about my past.

Because that truth was dangerous.

I remembered every word Kael had said the day he casted me aside. Every look that told me I wasn’t enough. I remembered how my chest had felt— as though he’d ripped my soul out.

That memory wasn’t gone. It was buried—waiting for the day I would take my revenge.

And so I trained. I trained for the day I would stand before him again.

I trained so that when our eyes met, I would not be the girl he rejected —but the woman who could crush him with her strength.

Lira had become the family I had lost—the sister I never had.

She reminded me that even in a life built on pain and secrets, there could still be moments worth holding onto. She made me believe in myself. She gave me the courage to laugh, the patience to learn, and the strength to keep going.

Sometimes I have dreams. I saw myself standing before an army. Their faces were hidden behind helmets, their bodies covered in blood, but I knew they were mine. I felt their loyalty and trust.

Then the scene would shift, suddenly. I would be on a battlefield, the ground soaked in blood and rain. My hands gripped on sword,

But before It could make sense to me, it would blur again.

Each morning, I woke with my heartbeat fast and my palms wet. I didn’t know if these were visions of the future, memories of another life—or simply my mind’s way of feeding me hope.

All I knew was that, deep down, a part of me believed—one day, I would lead. And when that day came, I would rise.