Rejected by My Alpha Mate

Chapter 5: She Doesn't Need an Alpha

The training grounds were empty at dawn.

Sera stood in the center of the packed dirt, her breath misting in the cold morning air. Lumi sat on a nearby log, watching with the intense focus she brought to everything.

"Again," Sera said. "Show me the thing."

Lumi closed her eyes. Focused.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then — a flicker of gold. Light dancing behind her eyelids. A subtle shift in the air, like pressure building before a storm.

"Good." Sera stepped closer. "Now pull it back in. Don't let it out."

Lumi's face scrunched with concentration. The gold faded. Died.

"I did it," she whispered.

"You did." Sera knelt beside her. "You're getting stronger every day."

"It's still hard." Lumi opened her eyes. "Sometimes the light just... comes out. And I can't stop it."

"I know, baby. That's why we practice."

"When will it stop?"

Sera didn't answer. She was thinking about the last time Lumi's power had erupted — three weeks ago, in Shadow Pine territory. A merchant had cornered them in an alley. Tried to grab Lumi.

The light had exploded out of her like a supernova. The merchant had dropped. Still breathing, but barely conscious. Sera had dragged Lumi away before anyone could ask questions.

"It won't stop," she finally said. "But it will get easier to control. I promise."

Lumi nodded. Didn't ask any more questions.

*Four years old and already so strong*, Sera thought. *Stronger than I was at her age. Stronger than most Alphas.*

*And no one to teach her except me.*

"Mama." Lumi tugged her sleeve. "Someone's coming."

Sera turned. A group of wolves was approaching — three of them, moving in a tight formation. The one in front was broad-shouldered, his expression hostile.

The same wolves who'd been guarding the perimeter when they'd arrived.

"The stray and her pup." The lead wolf's voice dripped contempt. "Running around our territory like you own it."

"We're not running." Sera kept her voice even. "We're training."

"Training?" He laughed. "What for? So you can flee again when things get hard?"

Lumi stepped forward. Sera caught her arm.

"Don't."

"But Mama, he's being mean."

"I know, baby. That's his problem, not ours."

The wolf laughed again. Stepped closer.

"Your daughter has funny eyes. They look sick. Like something's wrong with her."

Lumi's small body tensed. Sera felt it — the sudden surge of power building beneath her daughter's skin.

"Lumi." Her voice was sharp. "Remember what we talked about."

The power flickered. Surged. Faded.

Lumi took a breath. Let it out.

"Okay, Mama."

The wolf's eyes narrowed. He'd seen it. Maybe not the light itself, but something. A shift. A warning.

"What's wrong with her?" He took another step forward. "Is she broken? Contagious? Maybe we should report her to the Beta. Make sure she's not a danger to—"

Lumi's power exploded.

Not a flicker this time. Not a surge.

A wave.

Golden light erupted from the little girl's eyes, her skin, her very bones. The force of it rippled outward like a shockwave, slamming into the three wolves with the weight of a collapsing mountain.

They dropped. All three of them. Knees hitting dirt. Heads bowed. Bodies trembling with the force of something they couldn't understand.

Royal Blood.

The wolves whined. Submitted. Their bodies flush against the ground, unable to rise.

Sera grabbed Lumi. Pulled her close.

"Enough," she said. "That's enough, baby. Pull it back in. You did good. But that's enough."

The light faded. Lumi sagged against her, exhausted.

The wolves lay motionless on the ground. Still breathing. Still alive.

And standing at the edge of the training grounds, his face carved from stone, was Dax.

He stared at Lumi. At the golden light still fading from her skin. At the three wolves still trembling on the ground.

At Sera.

"Royal Blood," he said. Not a question. A statement. "The child has Royal Blood."

Sera didn't deny it.

"And you brought her back here." His voice was ice. "To my pack. Do you have any idea what you've done?"

"I brought her to safety." Sera straightened. "Something you failed to do five years ago."

His jaw tightened. For a moment, she thought he might hit her.

Then he turned and walked away.

Sera watched him go. Lumi's head was heavy against her shoulder, the little girl's breath warm and steady.

*Let him process*, she thought. *Let him figure it out.*

She had five years of answers. And she was done waiting for him to ask the right questions.