REJECTED BY THE ALPHA

Chapter 3

After what felt like hours of searching through piles of clothes, fabrics, and forgotten boxes, Elena and Camila finally found a dress that was perfect.

Camila stood in front of the mirror, holding the dress against her body as her eyes widened in surprise.

“Oh my… I didn’t even know I had this,” she said, her fingers gently brushing over the soft fabric. The dress shimmered slightly under the light, elegant yet simple—perfect for the occasion.

Elena smiled softly, leaning against the wardrobe. “It suits you.”

Camila turned around quickly, excitement lighting up her face. “Elena, I knew you would find the right dress for me! You really have a keen eye for fashion, you know.”

Elena chuckled quietly, though her smile didn’t fully reach her eyes. “I just got lucky.”

“Lucky?” Camila scoffed playfully. “No, you’re talented.”

The two girls soon dropped onto the couch, exhaustion finally catching up with them. The room was slightly messy now, filled with clothes scattered around from their long search, but neither of them cared.

For a brief moment, everything felt… normal.

Then suddenly, Camila gasped.

“Ahhh! I almost forgot!” she exclaimed, jumping up from the couch so fast that Elena flinched slightly in surprise.

“What is it?” Elena asked.

“I’m supposed to be in the kitchen by now!” Camila said, quickly checking the time. Her eyes widened in horror. “Oh no… it’s already past noon. Chef Miller is literally going to kill me.”

Almost as if summoned by her words, the intercom in the room suddenly rang.

Both girls froze for a second before Camila rushed to answer it.

“Yes?” she said cautiously.

“Lady Camila Mendes, you better come down right now.”

The sharp voice of Chef Miller echoed through the room. Though his tone sounded strict, there was a hint of playfulness beneath it—something only Camila seemed to get away with.

Camila laughed nervously. “I’m coming, Chef!”

“Now,” he replied before the call ended abruptly.

Camila turned back to Elena, shaking her head. “That man… one day he’ll actually chase me out of the kitchen.”

Elena smiled faintly.

“Come on,” Camila said, grabbing Elena’s hand. “Let’s go to the kitchen. I’m sure you haven’t eaten anything since morning.”

Elena was about to deny it out of habit.

“I’m fine—”

But before she could finish, her stomach betrayed her.

“Grrlll…”

The sound was loud enough to echo in the quiet room.

For a second, there was silence.

Then both girls burst into laughter.

Elena covered her face slightly, embarrassed. “Okay… maybe I’m not fine.”

“I knew it!” Camila said, still laughing. “You never eat properly.”

At that moment, Elena felt something warm in her chest—a feeling she wasn’t used to.

Happiness.

For just a second, she wished this moment could last forever.

But deep down, she knew it couldn’t.

Because tonight… she was leaving.

And this time, she wasn’t coming back.

She forced a small smile, pushing those thoughts away.

“Come on,” Camila said, pulling her gently. “Let’s go before the little monster gets angry.”

“Elena laughed softly. “You mean Chef Miller?”

“Yes,” Camila whispered dramatically. “The most dangerous creature in this pack.”

They both laughed as they walked out of the room hand in hand.

Outside, the hallway of the Warrior General’s home was completely transformed.

Colorful balloons were tied along the walls, ribbons hung from the ceiling, and lights sparkled in every corner. A large decorated board stood proudly at the center:

WELCOME HOME NICOLAS MENDES

Elena paused for a moment, taking it all in.

Everything looked so beautiful… so full of life.

So different from how she felt inside.

“I wonder how he looks now…” Camila murmured beside her.

Elena turned to look at her.

Camila’s eyes were fixed on the decorations, but there was something deeper in her expression—something sad.

“And… if we’re going to have that sibling bond,” she added quietly.

Elena’s heart tightened slightly.

She placed a gentle hand on Camila’s arm. “You don’t have to worry about that now.”

Camila forced a smile. “Yeah… you’re right.”

But Elena noticed it—the faint sadness hidden behind it.

And for a brief second, a similar sadness flashed in her own eyes.

Then it was gone.

The two girls stepped into the elevator together.

As they reached the main pack house, the atmosphere changed completely.

The entire place was buzzing with activity.

Servants rushed back and forth carrying trays of food. Decorations were being adjusted. Voices filled the air as preparations for the celebration continued.

It felt like the whole pack was alive.

At the center of it all stood Butler Mark, giving out orders with strict precision.

“Move those tables to the left.”

“Careful with that!”

“No mistakes today!”

The moment he spotted Camila, his expression changed slightly.

“Lady Camila, please proceed to the kitchen,” he said immediately.

Then his eyes shifted to Elena.

There was no warmth there—only cold indifference.

Camila noticed but ignored it.

“Butler Mark,” she said quickly, “can Elena come with me? We might need an extra hand.”

For a moment, Butler Mark said nothing.

He simply stared at Elena.

Then he gave a short, reluctant nod.

“Hm.”

That was all.

But it was enough.

“Thank you!” Camila said happily before grabbing Elena’s hand again.

They rushed off toward the kitchen.

The kitchen was just as chaotic.

The scent of spices and freshly cooked food filled the air, making Elena’s stomach growl again.

Large pots boiled, trays were arranged, and cooks moved with practiced speed.

Chef Miller stood in the middle of it all like a commander on a battlefield.

The moment he saw Camila, he crossed his arms.

“You’re late.”

Camila grinned sheepishly. “Just a little.”

“A little?” he repeated.

But then he shook his head, a small smile forming on his lips. “Go wash your hands. There’s work to do.”

“Yes, Chef!” she replied quickly.

Elena stood quietly beside her, unsure of what to do.

Camila nudged her. “Come on, you’re helping too.”

Elena nodded.

And just like that, she got to work.

For the first time in a long while… she felt useful.

Meanwhile…

Far away from the pack lands, beyond the familiar territories, lay a place few had ever seen.

The Inland Warrior Arena.

A vast training ground built for one purpose—to create the strongest warriors in the werewolf kingdom.

High mountains surrounded the arena, their peaks disappearing into the clouds. The air was cold, sharp, and unforgiving.

And at the very top of one of those mountains stood a man.

Alpha Logan.

He stood tall and unmoving, overlooking the training grounds below.

Warriors clashed, fought, and trained with everything they had—but none of them reached his level.

He was different.

He always had been.

Logan was the very image of an Alpha.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Powerfully built.

Even in stillness, his presence was overwhelming.

His dark hair fell slightly over his forehead, messy yet fitting his rugged appearance. His sharp jawline and piercing eyes gave him a cold, commanding look.

And the tattoos on his arm… they told stories of strength, pain, and power.

He had been here for as long as he could remember.

Training.

Fighting.

Enduring.

While others complained, he pushed harder.

While others rested, he trained longer.

And now…

He had become something else entirely.

The best.

The most ruthless.

The coldest warrior the inlands had ever created.

“Logan.”

A voice called from behind.

Logan didn’t turn immediately.

But when he did, his expression softened—just a little.

Standing there was his friend and Beta, Nicolas.

“Yeah,” Logan replied simply.

“The car is here to pick us up,” Nicolas said.

Logan nodded once. “Okay.”

“And the rest?” Logan asked.

“They’re ready. Waiting for you.”

Logan gave another small nod.

For a moment, silence settled between them.

Then Nicolas let out a breath, a grin forming on his face.

“Man… I can’t believe we’re going back home after twenty-two years.”

There was excitement in his voice.

But Logan remained calm.

Unreadable.

“I need to pack,” Logan said.

Nicolas blinked.

“You haven’t packed yet?”

No response.

“Wait… don’t tell me…” Nicolas ran a hand through his hair. “We’ve all been waiting for you—and you haven’t packed anything?”

Logan had already turned away.

“Nico stood there, completely speechless.

“Seriously?” he muttered under his breath.

But Logan didn’t look back.

He simply walked away.

As always.

Silent.

Cold.

And impossible to read.