Rejected By The Man Who Broke Me, Claimed By The Alpha King

Something that disrupts the pattern

Victoria's POV

Lucien was devastatingly good-looking and I couldn't get him out of my head all night. The man who had stepped between me and James like judgment itself.

He was tall, at least six-four, broad-shouldered, solid in a way that made James look small and loud by comparison. Dark hair, cut short. Brown eyes that turned golden when sunset hit. His skin was warm olive, his face all sharp lines and contoured to perfection, devastatingly handsome without trying. And his scent, clean, masculine, sandalwood and musk had stayed with me long after he let me go.

My heart hadn't slowed since. I have never believed in love at first sight, never trusted attraction that hit that hard. But one look at Lucien had undone what three years with James did. It made me forget him completely, and that terrified me.

And the way he handled James? Effortless. Almost bored.

One twist of his wrist and James had folded like cheap paper. Reduced from loud, entitled, kneeling with roses to a whining, clutching mess on the concrete.

It had been hot and stuck in my head, replaying while a wicked smile came on.

His voice echoed in my head. "I've got you."

The certainty of it. The way my body had believed him without consulting my trauma first.

"Victoria?"

I blinked.

"Victoria!!"

I turned sharply, heart jumping, only to realize I was standing in front of my office building. The ugly gray one with the flickering lights and the security desk that smelled like burnt coffee. How long had I been standing there?

"Yes, sorry," I muttered, flushing. "I was distracted."

The security guard nodded like he'd seen worse. Probably had.

I swiped my employee card.

Red light.

I frowned and swiped again.

Red.

"That's weird," I murmured, angling the card, trying again like the machine might suddenly feel generous.

Nothing.

I exhaled slowly, irritation crawling up my spine. Of course. Of course today would do this to me.

"Problem?"

The voice behind me was smooth in a way that made my shoulders tense automatically.

I turned.

Mark Holloway.

My boss.

James' friend.

He stood there in a tailored suit, expression carved from permanent displeasure, eyes flicking from my face to the card reader like I was already an inconvenience. Working under him had always felt like being tolerated, not employed. Like I was one mistake away from confirmation of an opinion he'd already formed.

"My card isn't working," I said. "It must be a glitch."

He looked at me for a long moment. Too long.

Then he smiled.

Not kindly.

"Ah," he said. "That explains it."

Explains what?

He stepped forward and tapped his own card. Green light. The door clicked open.

"I was just on my way in," he continued casually. "Walk with me."

I hesitated, then followed. My stomach tightened with every step.

The elevator doors closed around us, sealing in the silence.

"I heard about last night," he said, eyes forward.

My jaw clenched. "I don't know what James told you, but—"

"Oh, he didn't need to tell me anything," Mark interrupted. "I saw the video."

My chest dropped. "The video?"

"Yes. Quite the spectacle." He glanced at me finally, gaze sharp. "You embarrassed him."

The words hit harder than I expected.

"I didn't do anything," I said quietly. "He showed up uninvited. He tried to—"

"Save it," Mark cut in. "James is family to me. And you? You were a favor."

The elevator dinged.

We stepped out.

"A favor?" I repeated.

He stopped walking and turned to face me fully. People passed us, busy, uninterested. No one noticed the way my world tilted.

"I hired you because James asked," he said bluntly. "You were fresh out of college. No real experience. Bills piling up. He didn't want you moving back home."

My face burned. I'd known he'd helped, but not like this. Not this nakedly.

"You think you earned this job?" he went on. "You think you impressed me? I tolerated you because I owed him."

Something inside me cracked.

"I work hard," I said. "I show up early. I stay late. I—"

"And you turned him down," Mark said coolly. "Publicly. Humiliated him."

My hands shook. "He cheated on me. He abused me. He—"

Mark raised a hand, bored. "Personal drama is not my concern. Loyalty is."

He pulled a folder from under his arm and handed it to me.

Termination papers.

Effective immediately.

My ears rang. "You're firing me?"

"Yes." He didn't hesitate. "Frankly, I never liked you. Now I don't have to pretend."

I stared at the papers, words blurring. Rent. Bills. My car barely running. Therapy bills I was already behind on.

"You can't do this," I whispered.

"I already have." He stepped past me, then paused. "One more thing."

I looked up.

"If you were smarter," he said, voice low, "you'd have said yes last night. Girls like you don't get second chances."

Then he walked away.

Just like that.

I stood there long after he disappeared into his office, the weight of it all crashing down at once. Fired. Humiliated. Betrayed, again!

James.

Always James.

I walked out of the building on autopilot, the folder heavy in my hands, alongside my box. My phone rang, startling me.

I froze.

No one called me anymore.

The box in my arms felt heavier as I glanced at the screen.

Lydia

My chest tightened. My sister only ever called twice a year, my birthday and Christmas. Even then, it was rushed. Obligatory. Seeing her name now felt like spotting an ambulance in your rearview mirror.

"Hello?" I answered.

"Vic." Her voice was clipped, breathless. "Hey, how are you doing?"

The question barely landed before she plowed right over it.

"I can't talk long. I'm scrubbing in for surgery in less than ten minutes," she continued. "But Mom's been blowing up my phone. She said she needs to talk to you. Can you call her?"

My grip on the box tightened.

"I, Lydia, I don't think that's a good idea—"

"She's worried sick," Lydia cut in. "You know she's hypertensive. The last thing we need is her working herself into an episode."

I swallowed. My throat burned.

"There is a reason I'm not speaking to her."

A pause. Brief. Impatient.

"Whatever it is, sort it out," Lydia said. "Families don't just cut each other off."

The word family tasted bitter.

Then she added casually, "Also, I heard about the proposal. Vic, seriously? How could you turn James down like that?"

My heart stuttered.

"He, Lydia, you don't understand. He-"

"Sorry," she interrupted again. "Someone's knocking. We'll catch up later, okay? Love you."

The line went dead.

I stared at my phone.

My hands started shaking.

The box slid down my arms and hit the ground. Papers spilled. A framed photo of me and Lydia's children cracked. My chest felt tight, like someone had wrapped wire around my lungs and kept pulling.

I bent forward, gasping.

Breathe. Breathe.

My phone buzzed again.

Unknown number.

I wiped my face with the back of my hand and looked down.

"Looks like your day started out crappy. How about I fix that."

I frowned.

My fingers moved before my brain could catch up.

"Who is this? What do you want?"

Three dots appeared.

Then an address dropped onto my screen.

"I can offer you a better job. Ten minutes. If you're brave enough."

I laughed weakly.

This was insane.

My therapist's voice floated up uninvited. Try something that scares you. Something that disrupt the pattern.

My life was already in ruins.

What was one more bad decision?

I shoved everything back into the box, dumped it into my car, and drove.

The farther I went, the quieter the city became. Streetlights thinned. Trees rose taller. My pulse roared in my ears.

Then I saw it.

A manor.

No, estate.

Gates opened as I approached, slow and deliberate, like they'd been expecting me. Fountains sprayed silver water into the air. Massive stone wolves stood sentinel on either side of the drive, eyes carved so realistically it made my skin prickle.

This looked like somewhere a former president would live. Old money. Power. Wrongness.

I parked with shaking hands.

No one stopped me.

Inside, a woman waited.

She had salt and pepper hair pulled into a neat bun, sharp eyes, and an air that made my spine straighten instinctively.

"I'm Maeve Voss," she said. "Please, follow me."

Her voice was calm. Too calm.

The hallway stretched impossibly long, walls lined with portraits.

Wolves.

Huge ones. Brown fur. Golden-brown eyes.

As I passed one, my steps slowed.

I could've sworn the eyes followed me.

A whisper brushed my ear.

"Mine!"

My breath hitched. I spun around.

Nothing.

Maeve was already ahead, waiting.

"You're fine," she said mildly.

I wasn't sure if she was reassuring me, or herself.

She led me into a sitting room and gestured to a couch. I sat, hands clenched in my lap, heart racing.

The air felt charged. Alive.

"I told you I'd make your day better."

His voice came from behind me.

I spun so fast my heart slammed into my ribs. Lucien stood there, closer than last night, darker somehow. The light caught his face fully this time, sharp jaw, dark hair brushed back like he never lost control, eyes so deep they didn't just look at you, they measured you.

"You," I breathed.

"Yes."

"How did you—"

"You were fired," he cut in. "Your name is trending. And people who shouldn't know you exist now do."

My stomach dropped.

"I don't know what you are talking about," I said.

"That's the problem."

He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "You don't need answers yet. You need protection."

"From what?"

"From being in the wrong place without the right man."

He turned his head slightly. "Maeve. Get her settled."

Maeve moved instantly, clapping twice, ushering in five maids.

Lucien looked back at me. "We'll talk after. This concerns both of us, but for now, freshen up, eat, and sleep."

And the way he said it told me one thing. Walking away was no longer an option. His words hit the truth, like he needed me as much as I needed him.