Piss Off, Alpha! You Lost Me Forever

SOPHIA'S POV

I stood outside the villa for a long time. The winter wind whipped against my face, leaving it as numb as my heart. When the thermometer pressed against my forehead, I knew it was that day of the month again.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The sharp alarm sounded, and the brass bell hanging at the main gate was immediately rung, urgent, like a death knell.

The two wolf guards stationed by the door finally stepped aside, silent. There was no respect in their eyes for me, their Luna, only indifference and impatience. And all of this was permitted by my husband, Alpha Damien.

"Hurry inside! Your fertile window won't wait for you!"

Just as I was about to step forward, the housekeeper, Mary, rushed out first, her tone sharp and hurried, as if I were the one keeping myself outside.

To an outsider, it would look like I was a surrogate mother here to meet her client.

But the truth?

I was here to see my mate, my husband, yet every time, it was like this: confirmed by the thermometer, summoned by the bell, scolded by the housekeeper.

And my arrival truly was like that of a surrogate, fulfilling a biological contract, a mechanical transaction and nothing more. All because, as Luna, I had only given birth to a daughter in all these years, failing to produce a male heir for this pack. Even though I nearly died bringing my daughter into the world, my heart stopped multiple times on the operating table. None of it mattered.

In this werewolf society, still clinging to primal traditions, a woman's worth is measured only by her fertility. And my husband is no ordinary man, he is the Alpha, the leader of this pack. Without a male heir, Damien's position would be questioned, even challenged by other Alphas. And I, Damien's mate, forced upon him, standing in the way of him and his true love, Tiffany, if I also cost him his power, I would have no reason to exist at all. How ironic, the fate of a power I would never possess rested entirely on my shoulders.

I lowered my head, a self-mocking twist to my lips, and followed Mary step by step through the familiar yet alien hallway to Damien's door. This place I visited only once a month, this husband I saw only during my fertile window.

"Come in."

Mary's hand was just raised to knock when the voice came from inside first.

Of course. He always knew when I was coming. We were bound mates, he can always catch my scent, just as I can catch his. Only in moments like these was there any proof our mate bond still existed.

Mary withdrew her hand and stepped aside. I pushed the door open. Damien stood by the window, his back to me, broad shoulders etched in cold, hard lines by the moonlight.I closed the door behind me. He didn't turn, just issued a cold command;

"Take off your pants. Get on the bed, on your stomach."

Even though it happened like this every month—I should be used to it—I still couldn't help but flinch. Humiliation washed over me like a tide.

I opened my mouth, wanting to say something.

Maybe "Hello," maybe "Can we talk first?" But before the words could form, Damien's voice grew sharper;

"Now! Or would you prefer Mary to assist you?"

My fingers curled tight.

This wasn't a threat, he would do it.

Last time I hesitated too long, he really did call in two maids. They stripped me bare right there, pressing me down onto the bed. That humiliation, I would never forget. So I clenched my jaw, walked to the bed, and began unbuttoning my clothes with trembling fingers. With each piece that fell, I felt another layer of my dignity stripped away. Finally naked, I obeyed, lying face down on the bed. Like a she-wolf in heat, not yet in human form.

There was a rustle behind me. I thought about turning, about speaking, but then a tall, heated body was already pressing down on me.

No foreplay. No tenderness. Not even a word.

He entered me, moving with rough, mechanical thrusts.

Pain and shame intertwined.

I bit my lip hard, refusing to make a sound, only faint whimpers escaping my throat.

I started counting in my head.

One, two, three...

It was the only way to detach myself from this mechanical transaction.

Ninety-six, ninety-seven, ninety-eight.

It was over.

Damien withdrew from me. I heard the sound of him dressing. The entire time, he didn't speak a word, didn't look at me once. I pushed myself up, wrapping the thin blanket scattered by the bed around me. My voice was hoarse.

"Damien... can we talk?"

His footsteps paused for a second, but he didn't turn.

"Talk about what?" His tone was icy. "About how you still haven't conceived an heir?"

"I wanted to ask..." I heard myself say, my voice trembling despite my efforts to steady it. "Can Ashley come live with me? I haven't seen her in so long. I miss—"

"I haven't stopped you from seeing her." Damien cut me off, finally turning around.

His face was in shadow, his expression unreadable, but his amber eyes held no warmth.

"Your only task now is to get pregnant and bear an heir. Until that's done, don't ask for anything beyond your place."

"Beyond my place?! She's my daughter!" My voice cracked.

"And mine," Damien said coldly. "She doesn't need a mother drowning in self-pity."

The words sliced through me, precise and brutal. Without another glance, he walked out of the room.

Slam!

The door shut hard, rattling the entire room.

I sat alone in the darkness, wrapped in a thin blanket, like a discarded ghost. The wolf inside me was keening. She missed Ashley so much.

I could feel her pain, her despair.

As mates, we were meant to receive our partner's care and protection, but Damien gave us only indifference and humiliation. The mate bond wailed within me like a thread about to snap.

"It's okay," I whispered to my wolf. "It'll get better."

But I didn't even believe it myself.

I had to do something to soothe her, to soothe myself. Even if it was just a hollow comfort.

It took a long time before I reached for my phone on the nightstand. My fingers moved mechanically, swiping and tapping open the Instagram profile I checked every month—Not Damien's. Tiffany's.

Because Damien's account was private, visible only to the pack, I had long been removed from his followers.

How pathetic.

I had to rely on another woman's social media to catch a glimpse of my own husband alive and real.

But even so, I kept looking.

Call it aftercare. A hollow comfort.

For that, I could even ignore the stinging comments. I could pretend those bright smiles were meant for me, pretend that gentle Damien still existed, pretend I still mattered in his life. But no matter how hard I tried, I could never overlook the woman beside him.

Tiffany, radiant in a silver gown under the flashbulbs. And the joy on Damien's face, something I had never seen before.

They walked the red carpet hand in hand, fingers laced, smiling as naturally as a real couple.

Even through photos, I could sense the resonance between them. That kind of harmony, that chemistry, it was something Damien and I never had.

"OMG, you two are perfect together! Tiffany, you're the one who truly suits Alpha Damien! You should be our Luna!"

"Yeah, Sophia is so outdated."

Those comments couldn't hurt me anymore—not until:

"Rumor has it Ashley isn't even Sophia's child."

The replies were worse.

"Right?! I noticed it too! At the last gala, Ashley clung to Tiffany the whole time and barely even looked at Sophia."

"Could Tiffany actually be Ashley's mother? Maybe the Alpha only let Sophia be the nominal mother for political reasons!"

"That would explain it! No wonder she hasn't been able to bear an heir all these years!"

My hands trembled.

They didn't know. They knew nothing.

That night, I lay on the operating table, bleeding heavily. The doctors declared my condition critical. Since I was carrying a "useless" girl, they advised terminating the pregnancy to save my life. But I refused.

I insisted on giving birth to my daughter. Even if no one in this world welcomed her, I loved her—with all my life.

I still remember hearing Ashley's first cry and smiling weakly, feeling it was all worth it. But now they said she might not be mine. That another woman could be her mother. How could they?!

Just then, the sound of suitcase wheels and footsteps echoed from outside the door.

My wolf hearing caught it clearly.

One of them belonged to Damien. He was leaving again. Going to Tiffany.

I had no time left. This was my only chance for the month.

I could endure everything. His indifference, the monthly humiliation, the vicious words online. But I could not endure anyone slandering the bond between my daughter and me.

I ignored the rules, ignored that this room was only mine for one hour each month. I grabbed the blanket from the bed, wrapped it around myself, and rushed out barefoot.

The hallway was dark. My bare feet met the cold marble floor as I hurried down the stairs. Too fast. I slipped, nearly tumbling down the steps. I grabbed the railing to steady myself, heart hammering.

Just as I was about to step out of the dark stairwell, a familiar voice drifted up from the foyer below.

"Where are you going so late?"

It was Helen, Damien's mother.

She never liked me. Instinctively, I stopped, shrinking back into the shadow of the landing.

"Mother, I'm running late. Tiffany needs me."

Damien's voice held a tenderness and urgency I had never heard.

"At this hour?" His mother's tone wasn't disapproving, it was understanding. "And Sophia? Isn't today—"

"It's done." Damien cut her off, impatient.

A silence fell. I could hear my own heartbeat, loud in the still corridor.

"Damien," Helen began again, her voice taking on a calculating edge. "If you ask me, you shouldn't pin your hopes on Sophia any longer. Tiffany should bear your heir."

I clutched the blanket tighter, nails digging into my palms.

"Mother…" Damien sounded hesitant.

I strained to listen, waiting for his response. I thought he might at least say it was the Moon Goddess's will, or that it was for Ashley's sake. But what he said was, "It's too dangerous, Mother."

I froze.

What?

I almost thought I'd misheard.

But the cruel words came again, clear as ice.

"Pregnancy takes a toll. Childbirth is life-threatening. I can't let her take that risk."

What a devoted declaration. And it was my mate, saying it for another woman.

I pressed my hands over my mouth, forcing my wolf down, silencing even my breath. I couldn't let anyone see me like this.

"Ha!" Helen laughed, the sound full of approval. "You're right. Someone as perfect as Tiffany shouldn't be risked."

She paused, and her voice turned icy. "That useless Sophia is different. Best if she gives you a son and then just… dies. She's a waste of resources anyway."

I never knew a conversation so horrifying, so vicious, could sink even lower.

Die.

They wanted me dead.

So Tiffany could rightfully take my place as Luna of this pack, as my husband's wife, as my child's mother.

Ouch.

The wolf inside me let out a mournful, despairing howl. I couldn't hear anything else they said. Then came the sound of the front door opening and closing, followed by footsteps coming up the stairs.

I pressed myself against the wall, holding still until the steps faded completely.

Suddenly, a wave of nausea hit me.

I covered my mouth and ran back upstairs barefoot, rushing into my room and slamming the bathroom door behind me.

I dropped to my knees before the toilet, retching violently. My stomach was empty; all that came up was bitter bile and despair.

When it was over, I slumped on the cold tile floor, back against the wall, tears falling silently.

Ten years.

A whole decade, living here like a ghost. I thought if I was obedient enough, if I could just produce an heir, things would get better.

But they wanted me dead.

I started to laugh, a hollow, broken sound that echoed in the bathroom like sobbing.

Enough.

I wiped my tears and pushed myself up.

The woman in the mirror was pale, eyes swollen, but in those eyes—finally—there was a light.

The light of resolution.

I refuse to be a breeding machine any longer. I refuse to endure this humiliation. I refuse to cling to a hope that never existed.

I want a divorce. I want the bond severed. I want to take Ashley and leave this place far behind.

Even if the whole world opposes it. Even if pack law forbids it. Even if it means stripping me of my title as Luna, I will leave.