After My Alpha Chose My Sister Over Me

The biting wind of the Northern Territories had been my only companion for three years, stripping away the softness of my youth until I felt as jagged as the ice that covered the landscape. But as the familiar scent of pine and damp earth filled my nose, my heart dared to beat a little faster. Home. I was finally home.

I tightened the threadbare cloak around my shoulders, my fingers brushing against the rough fabric. It was a stark contrast to the silks I used to wear as the Beta’s daughter, but survival had taught me to value warmth over beauty. In my mind, I pictured Chandler. Three years of letters, three years of holding onto the promise of his hazel eyes and the mate bond that would surely snap into place the moment we reunited. I imagined him waiting at the border, his arms open, ready to apologize for the necessity of my exile and welcome his Luna home.

But the border was empty of Alpha blood.

Instead of a private, intimate reunion, I was met with the jarring sight of the pack grounds decorated as if for a festival. Streamers of silver and blue—the pack colors—fluttered from the trees, and the distant hum of music drifted through the air. A Grand Gathering.

Two guards I didn’t recognize stepped out from the sentry post, blocking my path with crossed spears. They looked me up and down, their noses wrinkling as if I were a rogue who had rolled in muck.

"State your business," the taller one barked, his eyes lingering on my worn boots.

"I am Eleanor Montgomery," I said, keeping my voice steady despite the tremor in my hands. "Daughter of Beta Montgomery. I have returned."

The guards exchanged a look, and then, to my horror, they laughed. It wasn't a warm sound; it was a bark of mockery.

"The exile?" the second guard sneered, leaning on his spear. "Didn't think you'd survive the North. You look more like a beggar than a Beta's blood."

"Let me pass," I commanded, trying to summon the authority I was born with. "Alpha Chandler expects me."

" The Alpha is busy preparing for the ceremony," the tall one scoffed, though he lazily uncrossed his spear. "You'll have to wait for clearance. We can't just let strays wander in during a Grand Gathering."

It took an hour. An hour of standing in the dirt while luxury cars with tinted windows glided past, carrying visiting dignitaries who didn't even glance at the shivering girl by the gate. When I was finally waved through, the shame burned hotter than the cold.

I kept my head down as I navigated the pack village, avoiding the gazes of those celebrating. I just needed to get to my room. I needed to wash the North off my skin, put on a dress that smelled like lavender, and find Chandler. Once he saw me, once he smelled me, this nightmare of a welcome would end.

I pushed open the heavy oak doors of the Pack House, slipping through the servants' entrance to avoid the crowd in the main hall. My feet carried me instinctively to the second floor, to the room that had been mine since birth. I reached for the handle, a small smile finally touching my lips.

But the door didn't open to my sanctuary.

It opened to a wall of mops, buckets, and stacks of cardboard boxes. The scent of lavender was gone, replaced by the stinging odor of bleach. My bed, my desk, my paintings—everything was gone. It was a storage closet.

"Excuse me?" I grabbed the arm of a passing maid, a young girl I didn't recognize. "Where... where is Eleanor's room?"

She looked at me with wide, fearful eyes. "The Beta's daughter? Her things were moved to the servants' quarters years ago, miss. To make room for the expansion."

My chest tightened, a physical blow that nearly doubled me over. Servants' quarters? I was the future Luna.

I stumbled down the back stairs, my vision blurring. I found the small, cramped room at the end of the hall. The door was ajar. Inside, amidst the gloom, something sparkled.

"Oh, you're back."

The voice was smooth, like honey laced with venom. I looked up to see Kinslee standing there. My younger sister. But she didn't look like the wild, frightened girl I had sacrificed myself to protect three years ago.

She was radiant. Her hair was styled in perfect, glossy waves, and her skin glowed with expensive oils. But it was what she was wearing that made the air leave my lungs.

Draped around her neck was the Montgomery emerald—our grandmother's necklace, an heirloom that was supposed to be passed to the eldest daughter on her wedding day. And her dress... it was a shimmering silver gown, cut low and fitted perfectly. I recognized the design. I had sketched it in my notebook before I left. It was the dress I had planned to wear for my Mating Ceremony.

"Kinslee," I breathed, my voice cracking. "That necklace... that dress..."

Kinslee touched the emerald at her throat, her fingers manicured to perfection. She didn't look guilty. She looked bored. "Oh, these?" She laughed lightly, a sound that grated against my nerves. "I was just keeping them safe for you, El. You know how things get lost around here."

She took a step closer, the scent of expensive perfume—and something else, something cloyingly sweet like vanilla—wafting off her. She looked me up and down, her blue eyes filled with a cold, calculating amusement that I had never seen before.

"Besides," she added, her voice dropping to a whisper, "it would be a shame for such beautiful things to rot in a box while you were playing in the snow. Don't you think?"

I stared at her, waiting for the apology, waiting for the sisterly embrace. But Kinslee just smirked, a cruel twisting of lips that told me everything I hadn't wanted to believe. The exile hadn't just taken my time; it had taken my place.