The Alpha’s Healer

Chapter3

Viktoria POV: Rejected, And It's Not A Dream

“What?” The word escapes me like a shallow, broken gasp. It as though saying it aloud might untangle this nightmare. But it doesn’t. It only makes the truth realer.

I stand frozen in the middle of the crowd, eyes wide, throat turning to sand. Marco’s voice still hangs in the air: My Luna is Kyra Conley.

No. No, no, no. This isn’t possible. This isn’t real. It can't be.

My gaze whips to him, pleading. For the first time since last night, Marco’s eyes meet mine, and there’s no warmth in them. No recognition of everything we’ve been, everything I thought we were. Only a coldness, like he knows exactly what he’s doing, and he wants me to see it.

Beside him stands the girl from last night. So she's Kyra Conley? Her face is calm, proud even, though I swear I’ve never laid eyes on her until last night, when I thought she was some distant cousin dragged here for the ceremony.

She’s beautiful, yes, but there’s a smugness in the tilt of her chin, in the way she slides closer to Marco as though she’s always belonged at his side.

And then, as if the goddess herself means to drive the knife deeper, a little boy toddles out from the crowd and joins Kyra. He’s maybe four, maybe five, small but sturdy, with dark curls and eyes that look kind of familiar. My lungs lock up and I start shaking.

Marco’s hand rests on the boy’s shoulder. With a tone of pride, he declares, “And as a bonus, there's a child. My blood. My heir. Possibly the pack’s next alpha after me.”

The cheer that explodes is deafening. Wolves whistle and howl, stomping their feet against the pavilion floor. Hands clap, voices rise like waves. Celebration fills the place and I'm standing inside it, suffocating.

I can’t move. I can’t breathe. My entire body is screaming, “this isn’t real!”

But then my eyes meet Lucille’s. She stands tall beside the elders, her lips smiling in satisfaction, a wicked smile spreading across her face like victory. It is the smile of a woman who’s planned this all along.

Marco doesn’t stop there. He doesn’t give me time to wake from this nightmare. His arm snakes around Kyra’s waist, pulling her close, and then his mouth crashes against hers. It’s not a chaste kiss at all, neither is it a formality. It is an open, wet, hungry kiss. Oh, goddess. He devours her mouth right there in front of everyone. In front of me.

The crowd erupts louder, wolves chanting his name, celebrating their alpha and his new Luna.

I can’t even think. My mind scrambles back to last night. Yes, Marco was angry, yes, he walked away. But he never suggested this. He never hinted at betrayal, never gave me even the smallest warning that he would humiliate me like this. Didn’t he remember? His father, on his deathbed, had made me promise that we would never leave each other’s sides. That we would stand together, always. Had all of that been a lie?

“Viktoria.”

Hands clutch mine. My mother’s trembling voice breaks through the roar. My father appears beside me, his pale face is drawn. He doesn’t speak much, but his eyes say everything.

“Come,” my mother pleads, tugging me back. “We don’t belong here. We never belonged among them.”

I shake my head, resisting. No. This isn’t over. This can’t be over. My feet drag as they pull me away, my heart screaming and crying. At the edge of the crowd, I break free from my mother’s grip. Tear pour down my face.

“Marco!” I scream his name until my throat burns. “Marco, why?”

The wolves don’t stop cheering. Marco is lifted onto their shoulders now, carried like a king through his people. Then when they let him down, his arm curls firmly around Kyra, his son trotting proudly beside them.

And then, like venom, a voice cuts through the noise from behind me. “He doesn’t love you.”

Recognizing that voice instantly, I turn slowly, my chest heaving. Lucille is standing behind me, not a hair out of place. She looks regal in her own dress.

“What makes you think,” she sneers, stepping closer so only I can hear her, “that my son would ever marry a poor girl like you?”

My blood turns to ice. I'm trying to find words but shame won't let me. Fury boils inside me, my shattered heart creaking. I try to speak but there's a lump blocking my throat.

Her smile widens, satisfied with my silence. She brushes past me, her cloying perfume filling my nose as she disappears into the crowd to rejoin her son’s celebration.

I stagger backward, clutching my chest as though I can hold my heart together. My mother catches me, keeping me from falling, whispering soothing words in my ear. But nothing can console me.

I barely know where I am as we make our way back toward the mansion. My vision blurs with tears, my ears still ringing with cheers for another woman. For another Luna.

On the driveway my belongings are scattered across the stones, dresses trampled, books torn from their boxes, my jewelry box cracked open. My things, every piece of me, is dumped like trash outside the mansion.

I stop dead, my body trembling. It’s final. He didn’t just replace me in front of the pack. He’s erased me from his life.

And I . . . I can’t even breathe.

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