My Ex Alpha Mate Wants Me Back

Elyra's POV The tension in the air was suffocating, the kind that made it hard to breathe, hard to think. I felt suffocated and out of place. I stood in the center of the pack house, the place that had never felt like home despite Alpha Beckett dragging me back here two years ago. The pack members barely concealed their disdain whenever they looked at me, their gazes filled with resentment and lingering hatred and disdain, their whispered words like daggers against my skin, and they didn't even try to hide it, it was very evident that I wasn't welcomed here but what could I do? It wasn't like I had a choice of my own anyways. They blamed me for something beyond my control, for something I had no part in, refusing to give me a chance to prove my innocence—yet the weight of their hatred pressed down on me every single minute, every single day. I had wished the ground would have swallowed me up, at least, that way I'd escape their disdain and finally be at peace with myself, without having to live each day feeling too conscious of myself, because everybody was watching my every move. I had been a fool to believe that time would change things, to think that things would go back to the way they were, and that I could for once stop feeling like an outsider or worse still, a convict, I had been a fool to believe that Beckett bringing me back meant something more than guilt. I had been a fool to believe that by coming back here, people would see the real me and see my innocence. I had clung to the fragile hope that, in making me his Luna, he had chosen me. And that the people would also choose me. I had been a fool to believe that I would finally have the chance to fit in like the rest and be by Beckett’s side. But his coldness, his indifference, had long since shattered any illusions I might have harbored and it made me feel stupid that I had initially harboured such thoughts, amongst roses are thorns, but it seemed that this particular thorn had prickled deep into my flesh that pulling it out seemed almost impossible. Beckett was distant, unfeeling, a stranger despite the bond that tethered us together. Every night, I lay beside him, yearning for even the smallest sign of warmth, for something to make the pain of rejection bearable. But he gave me nothing, I yearned for a life of peace, a chance to be heard, to be seen, and to be loved by him, and I would trade anything just to get that. And now, as I stood in the grand hall of the pack house, my hands trembling at my sides, I watched him walk in with another woman. My heart stuttered in my chest, my breath caught in my throat. She was beautiful—strikingly so—with golden hair cascading down her shoulders, her features sharp and refined. Her lips curled in a sneer as she looked at me, as though my very existence repulsed her. The disgust in her gaze was almost tangible, a silent insult that made my stomach churn. I swallowed hard, my nails digging into my palms. I didn’t recognize her—not at first—but something about her felt oddly familiar. Beckett’s steps were measured, deliberate as he approached me. His piercing blue eyes, so devoid of warmth, locked onto mine, and for a brief moment, I wished for something—anything—that might soften the harshness in them. But there was nothing. Only finality. “It’s over.” His voice was cold, detached, as if what he was about to say meant nothing to him. I stiffened, my heart hammering in my chest. My mouth felt dry, my throat tight. “What?” He didn’t repeat himself. Instead, he reached into his jacket, pulled out a thick stack of papers, and dropped them onto the table in front of me. Divorce papers. I stared at them, my mind blank, my body frozen. “I reject you as my mate.” The words rang through the room, slicing through me like a blade. The rejection settled deep in my bones, and for a moment, the world around me faded into nothingness. This was it. The final blow. Two years of suffering, of hoping, of convincing myself that maybe—just maybe—there was something salvageable between us, and this was how it ended. I forced myself to inhale, to gather whatever pieces of dignity I had left. I wouldn’t beg. I wouldn’t cry. “I accept,” I whispered, my voice steadier than I felt. A muscle in Beckett’s jaw twitched, but he gave no other reaction. His decision was made, and I was nothing to him now. The mate bond that had already been so weak between us snapped like a brittle thread, leaving behind a void so deep I thought it might consume me. My gaze flickered to the woman beside him, still standing with that same look of distaste on her face. And then, something shifted. The longer I looked at her, the more my mind screamed at me to recognize her, to remember. And then it hit me. I stumbled back, the realization striking me like a bolt of lightning. My breath came in shallow gasps, my hands shaking violently. “No,” I whispered, the word barely audible. The woman’s expression faltered for a split second, but then she rolled her eyes as if my reaction was expected. “No,” I said again, louder this time. My chest constricted, my entire body trembling. My vision blurred as my mind pieced together memories I had buried long ago, images of a girl with the same golden hair, the same sharp features—only softer, younger. Memories of laughter, of whispered secrets in the dark, of hands clasped together as we ran barefoot through the woods. I felt the scream build in my throat, the horror of it all crashing down on me like a tidal wave. “Sister.” The word tore from my lips, raw and broken. And just like that, the past came rushing back to devour me whole.