Rejected by my Alpha claimed by the Lycan King

The night my daughter was born, the moon was full. Not just full—but watching. It hung low in the sky, swollen and pale, like it knew something I didn’t. Like it was a witness to the kind of pain that doesn’t fade with time… only buries itself deeper. I remember the smell first. Blood. Rain. Fear. And lavender. The lavender came from her mother. Lila always wore lavender oil on her wrists, even when she was running for her life. “Stay with me,” she whispered, her voice trembling, her body shaking beneath my hands. “Kael… please… don’t leave me now.” I didn’t answer her. Not because I didn’t want to. But because I could hear them. My pack. Getting closer. Their howls tore through the forest like blades—sharp, unforgiving, hungry. They weren’t coming for her. They were coming for what she carried. Lila wasn’t one of us. She was human. And I—Kael Nightfang—was the Alpha’s son. The future Alpha of the Shadow Crest Pack. The law was simple. Brutal. Absolute. No wolf mates a human. No wolf breeds with one. Punishment? Death. Not just for the human. But for the child. “I’m sorry,” I finally said, my voice breaking as I pressed my forehead to hers. “I’m so sorry I brought you into this.” Her fingers tightened around my shirt. Weak, but desperate. “You didn’t bring me into anything,” she whispered. “I chose you.” That made it worse. God, it made it so much worse. A scream ripped from her throat, and her nails dug into my arm as her body arched. “It’s time,” I said, though my chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself. She nodded, tears spilling down her temples into her hair. “Don’t let them take her,” she begged. Her. She already knew. Somehow, she already knew. The birth was… chaos. There was no healer. No clean cloth. No warmth. Just me. And her. And the sound of death closing in. Lila screamed again, her voice cracking as the forest echoed it back at us. “Kael—!” “I’m here!” I held her tighter. “I’m right here. Just breathe. Please—just breathe.” Another push. Another cry. And then— Silence. For a moment, everything stopped. Even the wolves. Even the wind. Even my heart. And then I heard it. A cry. Small. Fragile. Alive. My daughter. I lifted her carefully, my hands trembling in a way they never had—not even in battle. She was… tiny. Too tiny for this cruel world. Her hair was dark, like mine. Her skin soft and warm. Her cries sharp but weak, like she was already tired of fighting. And her eyes— When they opened, just for a second— They glowed. Gold. Not human. Not fully wolf. Something… in between. Something forbidden. Lila let out a broken sob when she saw her. “She’s beautiful,” she whispered. I nodded, unable to speak. Because I knew what would happen next. The howls were closer now. Too close. Branches snapped in the distance. Footsteps. Dozens. Maybe more. “They’re here,” I said quietly. Lila’s hand shot out, grabbing my wrist. “No,” she whispered. “No, no, no—Kael, please—” “I don’t have time,” I said, panic rising in my chest. “If they find her—” “They’ll kill her,” she finished, her voice hollow. Silence fell between us. Heavy. Crushing. Final. “Take her,” Lila said suddenly. I froze. “What?” “Take her and run.” “I can’t leave you.” “You have to!” Her voice broke into a desperate cry. “Kael, look at me!” I did. And I wish I hadn’t. Because in her eyes, I saw something worse than fear. I saw acceptance. “They won’t let me live,” she said softly. “Even if you stay… even if you fight… I’m already dead to them.” “No—” “But she isn’t,” Lila cut in, her voice fierce despite her weakness. “She still has a chance. You can give her that.” My grip tightened around the baby. My daughter. Our daughter. “She needs her mother.” “And she needs her father more,” Lila said, her voice trembling now. “She needs someone who can protect her.” The howls echoed again. Closer. Closer. “I’ll come back,” I said quickly, like I could bargain with fate. “I’ll take her somewhere safe and then I’ll come back for you—” “No.” Lila shook her head, tears spilling freely now. “Don’t lie to me just to make this easier.” My throat closed. “I’m not—” “You are,” she whispered. “And it’s okay.” It wasn’t. It would never be okay. “Name her,” Lila said suddenly. “What?” “In case… in case I don’t get to,” she added, her voice cracking. I swallowed hard. “I… I haven’t thought—” “Then think now,” she whispered. “Please.” The baby whimpered in my arms, her tiny fingers curling around nothing. I looked down at her. At this fragile, impossible life. And the word came to me. Soft. Simple. Painful. “Lyra,” I said. Lila smiled through her tears. “Lyra,” she repeated. “It suits her.” The first wolf broke through the trees. Massive. Gray. Eyes glowing with recognition. “Kael!” he called in human voice. “The Alpha is coming!” There was no more time. “Go,” Lila whispered. I didn’t move. “I can’t.” “GO!” she screamed, and it shattered something inside me. I bent down, pressing my lips to her forehead one last time. “I love you,” I said, my voice barely a breath. “I know,” she whispered. “Now go… before I hate you for staying.” So I ran. I ran with my daughter in my arms while the woman I loved was left behind to die. The forest blurred around me. Branches tore at my skin. The wind howled in my ears. And behind me— I heard it. Lila’s scream. I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. Because if I did… Then everything she sacrificed would mean nothing. Hours passed. Or maybe minutes. Time didn’t make sense anymore. All I knew was the weight in my arms. The tiny breaths against my chest. The soft cries that grew weaker with each passing moment. “Stay with me,” I whispered, echoing Lila’s words. “Please… stay with me.” By dawn, I reached the edge of the human territory. A small village. Quiet. Safe. Or at least… safer than where we came from. I stood there for a long time. Just staring. Because crossing that line meant something. It meant giving her up. “I’m sorry,” I whispered to her as she stirred in my arms. Her tiny face scrunched slightly, like she could feel my pain. Like she understood. I found a small house. Simple. Warm. Smoke rising from the chimney. A life I could never give her. My hand shook as I knocked. Once. Twice. Three times. Then I placed her gently on the doorstep. Wrapped in my jacket. The only thing I had left of myself to give her. The door opened. A woman stepped out. Her eyes widened as she looked down. “Oh my—” I didn’t stay to hear the rest. I turned. And I walked away. Each step felt like tearing my soul apart. But I didn’t look back. Because if I did… I wouldn’t be able to leave. That was the day I became rootless. Not to the world. Not to my pack. But to my own daughter. And somewhere deep inside me… I knew— One day… She would come looking for the truth. And when she did… She would hate me.