Rejected By The Alpha, Claimed By The Rogue

Two

The morning sun filtered through the trees as Celine made her way to the training grounds, her muscles already protesting from the early chores. She’d barely slept, the weight of tomorrow pressing on her like a stone. The path wound past rows of wooden cabins and the central fire pit where pack meetings often stretched late into the night. Wolves nodded at her in passing, some polite, others indifferent. No one stopped to chat. That was fine. She preferred it that way.

The training fields opened up ahead, a wide stretch of packed dirt ringed by tall pines. Warriors sparred in pairs, their grunts and the smack of flesh echoing across the clearing. Younger wolves, those who’d shifted years ago, practiced controlled changes under the watchful eyes of their trainers. Fur rippled over skin, claws extended, then retracted. It looked effortless for them. Natural.

Celine hung back near the edge, her simple tunic and pants feeling inadequate next to the fitted gear of the others. She wasn’t officially part of the warrior track, wolfless girls didn’t get that privilege, but her father had insisted she show up for the basic sessions. “Build what strength you can,” he’d said once. It was the closest he came to fatherly advice.

She joined a group of lower ranked teens and omegas practicing hand-to-hand forms. The instructor, a burly delta named Garrick, barked orders without much enthusiasm. “Again! Low stance, quick strike. Don’t telegraph your moves.”

Celine mirrored the motions as best she could, fists clenched, feet shifting in the dirt. Sweat beaded on her forehead after only a few minutes. Her body was lean from years of hard work, but it lacked the explosive power the others carried in their bones. When it came time for shifting drills, she stepped aside like always, watching from the sidelines.

“Focus on your inner wolf,” Garrick called to a girl beside her who was struggling with her first partial shift. “Feel the pull. Let it come.”

Celine closed her eyes, trying anyway. She reached deep, searching for that spark she sometimes felt in dreams. A faint warmth stirred, then fizzled out like a damp match. Nothing. No bones cracking, no fur prickling her skin. Just the same hollow silence she’d known her whole life.

Lila’s voice cut through the air from across the field. “Look at that. Still pretending?” She was in her wolf form, sleek black fur gleaming under the sun, circling a group of admirers. With a fluid motion, she shifted back, naked for a brief moment before grabbing her clothes. No shame in it, shifting often left wolves bare, and the pack was used to it. But Lila made sure to shoot Celine a mocking glance.

Heat burned Celine’s cheeks. She turned away, focusing on the next drill. Punch, block, kick. Her knuckles throbbed against the practice dummy, but she kept going. Failure in front of everyone was one thing. Giving Lila more ammunition was another.

A ripple of energy swept through the field. Heads turned as Alpha Cassian Link strode onto the grounds, his presence commanding attention without effort. Tall and broad, shouldered, with sharp features and dark hair cropped close, he moved like a predator even in human form. At twenty-five, he’d held the pack together through border disputes and internal challenges with an iron will. His wolf was legendary, massive, silver-gray, unstoppable in battle.

Celine’s heart skipped despite herself. She’d always felt a strange pull toward him, even from afar. Something in his scent on the wind or the way his voice carried across meetings. But he never looked her way. Why would he? Alphas didn’t waste time on the broken.

Cassian stopped near Garrick, arms crossed, watching the sessions with a critical eye. “Push them harder. The Riverfang negotiations depend on strength. Weak links get us killed.”

His gaze swept the field briefly. For a split second, it landed on Celine. She froze, expecting dismissal or pity. Instead, his expression stayed neutral, almost distant, before moving on. He exchanged a few words with the trainers and continued his inspection, correcting a young warrior’s form with a firm grip on the boy’s shoulder.

Celine let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. No acknowledgment. Fine. She didn’t need it.

As the session dragged on, her mind wandered back, the way it always did when the loneliness crept in. She remembered the night her mother died. Celine had been seven, small and scared, hiding under the kitchen table while chaos erupted outside.

It was a rogue attack, unexpected and brutal. Howls split the night, followed by screams and the clash of wolves fighting for their lives. Her mother, a gentle woman with a quiet strength, had shifted to defend the inner perimeter. Celine could still picture her: warm brown fur, eyes full of determination as she told Celine to stay hidden.

“Be brave, little moon,” her mother had whispered, pressing the silver crescent pendant into Celine’s hand. “The Goddess watches over us.”

Then she was gone, racing into the fray. The fighting lasted hours. When it ended, the rogues were driven off, but the cost was high. Her mother’s body was brought back broken and still. Beta Wolverine had stood over her, face carved from stone, while Celine clung to his leg, sobbing.

From that day, her father changed. The warmth in his eyes died. He threw himself into pack duties, rising to beta through sheer grit and loyalty. Celine became a reminder of what he lost. He fed her, clothed her, gave her a roof, but the affection was gone. “Your mother was strong,” he’d say sometimes, voice flat. “She didn’t hesitate. You need to find that in yourself.”

But Celine hadn’t. Years later, the guilt still gnawed at her. If she’d been older, stronger, maybe she could’ve helped. Instead, she was the wolfless daughter who couldn’t even shift to honor her mother’s memory.

“Earth to Celine.” Sara’s voice pulled her back. The session had ended, and most wolves were dispersing toward the river for a cooldown or lunch. Sara wiped sweat from her brow, offering a water skin. “You okay? Looked like you were miles away.”

“Yeah. Just thinking about tomorrow.” Celine took a long drink, the cool water soothing her dry throat. “What if nothing happens? What if I stay like this forever?”

Sara shrugged, but her eyes were kind. “Then you keep surviving. Not everyone gets the big dramatic wolf s********e of us just... exist. Find your place in the quiet parts.”

They walked back together, the forest path dappled with sunlight. Birds called overhead, and the distant rush of the river mixed with laughter from the training group ahead. Lila was at the center of it, surrounded by admirers, her voice carrying on the breeze.

Celine’s steps slowed as they passed the pack house. Through the windows, she caught glimpses of servants rushing with more preparations—flowers from the meadows, fresh kills for the feast, moon banners hung from the rafters. The ceremony wasn’t just for mating bonds. It was a display of pack unity, a night when the Goddess might bless new pairings and strengthen the whole.

Her father emerged from the main doors, dressed in his beta’s formal tunic. He spotted her and paused, jaw tight. For a moment, Celine thought he might say something encouraging. Instead, he gave a curt nod. “Don’t embarrass the family name tomorrow, Celine. Show up. Stand tall. That’s all.”

“Yes, Father.” The words came out steady, but inside they stung.

He walked off toward the alpha’s quarters without another glance. Cassian was there too, speaking with a group of elders near the steps. The alpha’s posture was straight, commanding, but there was a tension in his shoulders that spoke of heavy responsibilities. Alliances. Threats from outside packs. The weight of leadership.

Celine wondered, not for the first time, what it would feel like to have someone look at her with real care. Not pity. Not duty. Just... belonging.

Back in the kitchens, the afternoon blurred into a haze of chopping vegetables and stirring pots for the pre-ceremony meal. Old Martha hummed an old pack song under her breath, occasionally shooting Celine small comforts, an extra slice of cheese here, a quiet “You’ll do fine, girl” there.

As evening approached, the pack’s energy shifted. Excitement buzzed through the halls. Young wolves practiced their shifts in the courtyard, showing off for potential mates. Celine finished her duties and slipped away to her room again, the pendant heavy against her chest.

She stood by the window, watching the sun sink lower, painting the forest in golds and reds. Tomorrow night, under the full moon, everything could change. Her wolf might finally break free. She might scent her mate and feel that bond click into place like the stories promised.

Or she might stand there alone, rejected by the moon herself.

Celine touched the pendant once more, whispering the same prayer as the night before. The faint warmth returned, lingering a little longer this time. Maybe it was nothing. Or maybe, just maybe, the Goddess was listening.

But as the first stars appeared, a distant howl echoed from the woods beyond the border. Not a pack howl. Something wilder. Rogues? Or just her imagination running wild?

She shook it off and climbed into bed, exhaustion pulling her under. The ceremony loomed, full of promise and peril. Whatever came, she’d face it with whatever strength she had left.

Little did she know, the moon’s plans for her were already spinning into motion, far darker and more complicated than any simple shift or bond.