REJECTED BY THE ALPHA

“Splash” “Splash!” The icy shock of water hit Elena before she could even fully wake. She gasped sharply, her body jerking upright on her narrow, creaking bed. The thin mattress beneath her was already soaked, the dampness seeping into her skin and bones. Her breath came out in shaky bursts as she tried to steady herself, strands of her dark curls clinging to her face. Cold. Everything felt unbearably cold. “Get up, you lazy ass.” The maid’s voice cut through the air like a whip. Elena blinked through the water dripping down her lashes, her vision slowly clearing as she focused on the woman standing by the door. The maid didn’t wait for a response. She had already turned to leave. “As I’m going, you better follow me,” she added casually, as though discussing something trivial. “Or you’ll get a beating.” The door creaked open. Elena didn’t move immediately. Her hands tightened against the thin sheet clinging to her legs. I’ll get a beating either way. The thought came without emotion—flat, tired, familiar. Slowly, she pushed herself up. Her limbs felt heavy, reluctant, as if even her body had grown weary of enduring the same routine. Water dripped from her clothes, trailing down her legs and pooling onto the cold concrete floor beneath her bare feet. The basement air wrapped around her like a punishment. She didn’t bother drying herself. There was no point. Elena stepped out of her room—if it could even be called that. The space was barely large enough to stretch out fully, its walls damp and cracked, the ceiling low enough to make the air feel suffocating. A cage. That was what it truly was. And even that felt generous. She closed the door quietly behind her and followed the maid up the stairs without a word. Each step upward felt like moving into another world. The basement was silent, heavy, forgotten. But as they climbed higher, sound began to return—voices, footsteps, faint laughter echoing from above. Life. A life Elena had never been part of. This was how it had always been. For as long as she could remember, she had existed on the edges of the pack. Invisible when convenient. Useful when needed. A target when someone needed to release anger. She wasn’t just an omega. She was less than that. Even the omegas had wolves they could rely on—companions that gave them strength, identity, belonging. Elena’s lips pressed together. Her wolf… It was weak. Unstable. She couldn’t stay in that form for long without collapsing. The first time it happened, the pack laughed. The second time, they had mocked her. By the third, they stopped expecting anything from her at all. After that, she became nothing. A mistake. A burden. The weakest creature in the entire pack. They reached the upper level, stepping into a hallway lined with omega quarters. Unlike her basement space, these rooms were modest but comfortable—clean beds, proper lighting, even small personal decorations. Elena’s gaze lingered for a second too long. She looked away quickly. The difference was a quiet reminder of her place. Beyond the hallway stood the towering structure that defined everything—the pack house. One hundred and twenty-eight floors. A vertical kingdom of power, status, and strict hierarchy. At the very top, in the sky-view level, lived the ruling family. Alpha Lucas Brightmoon. A name spoken with both reverence and fear. Beside him was Luna Lisa—elegant, graceful, and just as untouchable. Their children, Alpha Logan and Alpha Melinda, were already being groomed for power. Their residence wasn’t just a living space—it was an empire within the building. A private kitchen. A sky garden that stretched endlessly under open air. Glass walls that overlooked the entire territory. Elena had only been there a few times. Each visit had left her with a strange, hollow feeling. Not envy. Something quieter. Something that felt like longing… quickly buried. Below them were the ranks. The Beta family occupied the 127th floor. The Gamma, the 126th. The Warriors, the 125th. Each level reflected status—authority, strength, importance. Below that, pack members lived scattered throughout, or chose to reside in the surrounding woods. Elena knew all of this. Not because she belonged to it. But because she served it. They finally entered the general kitchen and dining hall. The moment she stepped inside, warmth hit her skin, contrasting sharply with the cold still clinging to her body. Voices filled the space—laughter, chatter, the clatter of utensils. “Elena!” Her head snapped up at the sound. And just like that, something inside her softened. “Camila,” she said, her voice quieter, but warmer. Camila Mendes stood near the preparation table, her expression lighting up as she walked over. Despite being the Head Warrior’s daughter, she wore simple clothing, her sleeves rolled up as if she had been working. Unlike everyone else, Camila chose to be here. And more importantly— She chose to be kind. “Hey! How are you?” Camila asked, studying her face carefully, as if trying to read everything Elena wasn’t saying. “I’m fine,” Elena replied automatically. Camila didn’t look convinced—but she didn’t push. “Oh! Have you received your pay for this month?” she asked instead, a hint of excitement slipping into her tone. “I got mine this morning.” There was pride in her voice. A small victory. In the pack, everyone who worked received something in return—no matter how little. For some, it meant independence. For Elena… It meant survival. She shook her head slightly. “No. Not yet. Maybe before the end of the day.” Camila frowned. “Yours is always late. Have you tried asking why?” Elena hesitated. The truth? She had. Once. It hadn’t ended well. Before she could answer, the chef’s sharp voice cut through the air. “Camila! Back to work!” Camila sighed, giving Elena a quick apologetic look. “We’ll talk later, okay?” Elena nodded. But the moment Camila walked away— Everything changed. The warmth in the room seemed to vanish. “SLAP!” The impact came out of nowhere. Pain exploded across Elena’s cheek as she was thrown to the ground, the force knocking the breath out of her lungs. Cleaning tools were tossed beside her, clattering loudly against the floor. Her ears rang. Her vision blurred for a moment. “You useless b***h,” a maid snapped, glaring down at her. “Get up. Lady Agatha wants her room cleaned.” The shift was immediate. With Camila gone, there was no reason to pretend anymore. Elena slowly pushed herself up, ignoring the sting on her face. This was normal. This was expected. Lady Agatha. The Beta’s daughter. Beta Xavier McKinney and his mate, Beta Lola, had two children—Nicolas and Agatha. Agatha was… difficult. Spoiled. Cruel. Untouchable. The Gamma family had three children—Christian, Christel, and Demi Gomez. The Head Warrior had two—Moore and Camila Mendes. All of them had roles. All of them had worth. Elena said nothing. She simply picked up the cleaning supplies and walked toward the elevator. Inside, she pressed the button for the 127th floor. The doors slid shut. Silence. For a brief moment, it was just her. And her reflection. Elena stared at herself in the polished metal surface. She looked… out of place. Her caramel-brown skin glowed softly despite everything, her long dark curls falling freely around her shoulders in damp strands. Her large brown eyes held a quiet depth—too expressive for someone who had learned to hide everything. Her lips were full, naturally soft, though often pressed into silence. A small silver cross necklace rested against her chest, catching the dim light the necklace had always been with her for as long as she could remember . Her off-shoulder sweater hung loosely, exposing part of her collarbone. She looked fragile. But there was something else beneath it. Something stronger. Something waiting. Ding. The doors opened. Elena stepped out onto the Beta floor. The difference was immediate. The air smelled cleaner. Softer. Richer. The floors gleamed under soft lighting, the walls decorated with elegant designs that spoke of status and refinement. She walked down the hallway, her footsteps quiet, almost invisible. When she reached Agatha’s door, she knocked gently. “Come in,” came the sharp reply. Elena pushed the door open—and stepped into chaos. Clothes were scattered across the bed and floor. Shoes lay in careless piles. Bags hung half-open, their contents spilling out. The room was a mess. But it was a luxurious mess. “Miss… you asked for your room to be cleaned,” Elena said softly. Agatha stood in front of the mirror, holding up a dress. She barely acknowledged Elena’s presence at first,” this is perfect” she said, busy turning from side to side, examining herself. Then her eyes met Elena’s reflection. Her expression shifted instantly. “What took you so long?” she snapped. “I asked for a cleaner an hour ago.” “I’m sorry, Miss. I was just informed—” “Excuses,” Agatha cut her off sharply. She turned fully, her gaze cold and dismissive. “Just do your job,” she said. “And make sure it smells nice when you’re done. I don’t want your filthy scent lingering in my room.” Each word landed like a blow. Without another glance, Agatha grabbed the dress and walked out. The door shut behind her. Silence settled over the room. Elena stood there for a moment. Still. Quiet. Then the tears came. Not falling—just gathering. Burning at the corners of her eyes. Her chest tightened, but she lifted her head, forcing them back. She wouldn’t cry. Not here. Not anymore. Her fingers curled slightly at her sides before she took a slow breath. Very soon… The thought came like a promise. I’ll be out of here. She had been saving. Every coin. Every small, delayed, unfairly reduced payment. Even when they cheated her. Even when they treated her like nothing. She endured. Because she had a plan. Because she had hope. And hope was the only thing they hadn’t taken from her. Elena bent down and picked up the scattered clothes. One by one. Piece by piece. She began to clean. Just like every other day.