The Alpha Who Rejects Me

THE PACKAGE

Finn grabbed Murray’s collar.“Question me again,” he hissed, “and you die before the enemy even sees you.” He dropped him. “Move.”

No one spoke after that. No one dared.

They marched like sheep onwards.

Two steps later— The air changed.

Every wolf felt it. That invisible pressure. Like eyes watching from every direction.

Even Finn felt it. But he forced himself forward.

“Keep moving,” he ordered.

Then— Laughter. It was low, and mocking. Coming from the bushes, the surrounding trees, from everywhere, then the unit stopped.

Shapes emerged from the darkness.

One. Five. Ten. Then dozens. Then hundreds.

Cloaked figures stepped out silently, surrounding them in a perfect circle.

Black masks holding black blades with no pack's insignia. Just the stench of death.

Finn’s men stiffened.

One whispered, “We’re surrounded…”

The cloaked wolves began laughing.

“Look,” one mocked. “The Nightclaw Alpha. He looks smaller than the rumors say. Or Did he get lost on the way home?”

More laughter.

Finn’s pride flared. He stepped forward. “I am your Alpha,” he roared, letting his voice carry power. “Kneel and clear my path!”

The Alpha command rippled outward.

Invisible dominance. It should have worked.

It always worked.

But— Nothing. Not a single one knelt. Not even a twitch. But, instead— They laughed louder.

The leader stepped forward slowly.

He was tall, scarred with eyes cold as stone.

“You’re not our Alpha,” he said calmly.

Finn frowned. “Impossible.”

“We don’t belong to Nightclaw,” the man said. “And we don’t answer to weak blood.”

The words hit like a slap.

Finn’s men swallowed hard. Fear crept in.

This wasn’t Knox’s army. These weren’t Shade warriors. These were something else... Something worse.

Mercenaries. Killers. They are prepared and we're unmistakably waiting for them.

The leader spoke again. “If anyone wants to run,” he said lazily, “do it now.”

Silence.

Finn’s men looked at each other, then at Finn, hen back at the intruders. They understood. This wasn’t a fight. It was an execution.

Two men bolted. They didn’t take three steps.

SHHK.

Finn cut them down himself. Both throats opened. Bodies hit the ground.

“No deserters,” he growled. The remaining men stood frozen. Not loyal. Just terrified.

The cloaked leader’s expression darkened.

“You kill your own?” he muttered. “Pathetic.”

He raised his hand. “Kill them.”

The quiet forest exploded into loud shouts of men while steel flashed.

Screams ripped through the night.

It wasn’t a battle. It was a slaughter.The cloaked men moved like machines.

They were too precise. Efficient. And wasted no strikes.

Nightclaw warriors dropped one after another.

Ten seconds. Ten dead. Twenty seconds.

Twenty more.

“Die…Alpha!” One of the cloaked men struck at him, but Finn swiftly pulled Murray at his front and the blade went through.

“A…Alpha?!” Murray's eyes went wide with shock as blood filled his mouth. Slowly he fell to the ground with his eyes on Finn.

“Heartless bastard! Kill him!” The leader yelled and his men rushed forward. Finn swung wildly, rage fueling him, but every hit he landed cost him two wounds in return.

A blade sliced his thigh, another on his shoulder. An arrow pierced his side and he fell to one knee.

Breathing ragged, his blood soaks the leaves.

Around him— Silence. All fifty men were gone. Dead. Like they had never existed.

Only him left.

The cloaked wolves circled around him.

Amused, one kicked him down and another stepped on his back.

They didn’t rush to kill him. They toyed with him. Breaking ribs and cutting slowly. Listening to his screams so patiently.

Stripping away every shred of Alpha pride.

“Cocky little king,” one sneered."Thought he was hunting.” He continued "Didn’t know he was meat.”

Finally, the leader stepped forward.

“You were always the target,” he said calmly.

Finn spat blood. “Why… why…?”

“Because someone paid well,” the man replied.

“But… who?” Realization flickered in Finn’s fading eyes. “…Del… on…”

Too late. The blade fell. One clean swing and his head rolled across the leaves.

Minutes later. His head was wrapped neatly in black cloth. A sealed letter tied beside it.

One cloaked rider took the bundle.

“Deliver this to Beta Delon,” the leader ordered.

The rider nodded and vanished into the night. Then the forest returned to silence, as if nothing had happened.

***

Delon was still awake when the knock came.

Three short taps. One long. It was the signal.

He didn’t turn from the window.“Enter.”

And the door opened quietly, a cloaked rider stepped inside, mud splashed up his boots, cloak torn by branches. He smelled like iron and smoke.

He dropped to one knee.“It’s done, my lord.”

Delon’s lips curved slowly.“Bring it.”

The rider stood and placed a small, tightly wrapped bundle on the table.

It wasn’t large. But it was heavy... Very heavy.

The faint metallic scent of blood seeped through the cloth.

For a moment, the room was silent.

Then—Delon stepped forward and untied the knot himself. No hesitation or fear on his face.

The cloth rolled open and Finn’s face stared back at him.

Eyes half-open. Frozen and Empty.

Even in death, arrogance lingered on his features.

Delon studied him quietly. Then he laughed.

Soft. Low. Disappointed.

“So this is the Alpha everyone feared,” he murmured. “Pathetic.”

He crouched, gripping Finn’s hair, lifting the head slightly.“Look at you,” he whispered. “You couldn’t even die properly on a battlefield.” He let it drop.

Thud.

“Dispose of the body?”

“Burned,” the rider said. “No evidence.”

“Good.”Delon wrapped his head again. “I’ll

handle this personally.” The rider bowed and slipped out.

Behind his estate, beneath an old oak tree where no servants were allowed to wander, Delon dug the hole himself.

The soil was damp. Cold. Each shovel of dirt felt oddly satisfying.

Like burying the past. Or planting the future.

When the hole was deep enough, he dropped the bundle inside.

No ceremony or last respect. Just trash being discarded.

“You were always in my way,” he said calmly. Dirt covered Finn’s face. Gone. Like he had never existed.

Delon smoothed the ground with his boot.

Then he smiled.

“At last…”

Not long after, he stood inside Elder Rowan’s manor.

Candles flickered against ancient stone walls as Rowan listened without interrupting as Delon spoke.

“He’s dead,” Delon finished.

For a second—Silence. Then— Rowan laughed.

Deep. Relieved. Almost joyful.

“Finally,” the old man breathed.

Delon poured wine for both of them. They raised their cups.

“To Nightclaw’s future,” Delon said.

“To rightful rule,” Rowan corrected.

They drank. Neither of them mentioned grief and neither pretended sadness.

Finn had simply been… an obstacle.

And obstacles were meant to be removed.

“We will wait two days,” Rowan said thoughtfully. “Let confusion settle in and questions arise among them. Then we announce his death.”

Delon nodded. “By then, I’ll already control the guards and council.”

“And, the Luna?”

A flicker of coldness crossed Delon’s face.

“She’ll serve her purpose soon enough.”

Rowan chuckled knowingly. “Good.”

When Delon left the manor, his steps felt lighter.

He could almost see it already— The throne.

The kneeling elders. The title.

Alpha Delon.

He smiled all the way home.

Inside the manor—Rowan remained seated.

Still smiling. His daughter stepped closer.

“Father,” she asked softly, “what happens after Delon becomes Alpha… and Delilah dies?” Her voice held curiosity. Not fear.

Rowan leaned back comfortably.

“My dear,” he said gently, “Delon is a useful item for now.”

She tilted her head. “And after?”

Rowan’s smile sharpened. “After… he becomes unnecessary.”

Her eyes lit up in understanding. “You already have a plan?”

Rowan chuckled..“Of course.” He reached out, patting her hand.“But you will play a small role.”

She giggled lightly, pleased.

“I’ll do anything for our family.” She walked away humming.

Rowan watched her go, pride swelling in his chest.

Then his gaze drifted to the old family crest hanging above the fireplace.

The symbol of a bloodline long stripped of power.

Once— His ancestors had been Alphas.

True rulers.

Until one foolish heir destroyed everything.

A scandalous crime of violating and murdering an omega girl who had refused his urges.

The punishment had been absolute. Their Alpha blood sealed. Their throne was stolen.

Their name was reduced to “elders.”

A humiliation that lasted generations.

But Rowan had waited. Smiled. Played loyal to others.

Patient. And now— Every obstacle was falling one by one.

First off was Alpha Suxxel… Finn and Knox's father.

Then Knox. Finn. Soon Delilah.

Then Delon. And finally—Nightclaw would return to its “rightful” blood.

He leaned back in his chair, eyes gleaming in the firelight.

“Yes…” he murmured.“Everything is finally coming home.”