Looking for: My alpha rejected me for a dare, so I walked away
Three years after I rejected my mate bond with Logan Blackthorn, the bastard shows up at my door, grinning like he still owns me.
"Mate," he says, his voice dripping with that Alpha confidence. "I kept my word. I'm here to re-mark you."
Three years ago, at a pack bonfire, he lost a round of truth or dare to Vivian — the she-wolf he grew up with.
Vivian's dare was simple.
"I wanna see if you and your Luna are really true mates."
"So reject your bond. Three years, no contact."
"If she lets you re-mark her after three years, I'll admit you two are the real deal."
He and Vivian never had boundaries. The lingering touches, the whispers, the way she always found a reason to be near him. We fought about it constantly.
I thought he'd say no.
But he agreed without hesitation. "Deal! A dare's a dare!"
His Beta warned him. "Think about this, Logan. Rejecting your mate is not a game."
Logan looked right at me, eyes glowing with that cocky Alpha certainty.
"I trust what we have. My Luna would never leave me."
"She'll take me back. I know it."
I said nothing.
He didn't know that was the last chance I ever gave him.
The memory fades. He holds out a bouquet of roses toward me.
I step back. Don't touch them.
"My mate doesn't like it when other males bring me flowers."
Logan's lips curl into a smug grin.
"Oh, you're mad?"
"Come on, come on, I'm here now, aren't I?"
"Easy, baby. Don't be upset."
His voice is soft, teasing — like he thinks I'm playing hard to get. Like he used to sweet-talk me out of every fight.
He reaches for me, arms open.
I take another step back. My face hardens.
"Back off, Alpha Blackthorn."
His hand freezes mid-air. His eyes stay locked on mine, warm and patient, like he's dealing with a stubborn pup.
"Okay. So you're really mad this time?"
"Tell me what it'll take. I'll do anything."
He still thinks a few pretty words will fix everything. Just like before.
He steps closer. I step back. He steps closer. I step back.
His eyes start to shift — darker, hungrier. The wolf behind them stirs, looking at me like prey.
"Logan. Three years is long enough to change everything."
He tilts his head, nods. "True."
My back hits the wall. Nowhere left to go.
He cages me in, both palms flat against the wall on either side of my head. The old move. Back when we were young and freshly mated, he loved pinning me against walls under the moonlight and kissing me senseless.
He leans in close, nose skimming along my throat. He's scenting me. Searching.
Then his whole body goes still. His wolf catches something — the faint, milky scent of a pup that clings to every mother.
"Did you have my pup?" His voice drops low. "A boy or a girl?"
One hand slides to my face, his thumb brushing my cheek.
The memory of that pup hits me like a blade through the ribs.
Three years ago, he knew I was carrying his pup when he stood in front of the entire pack and said the words.
*I, Logan Blackthorn, Alpha of the Blackthorn Pack, reject you, Clara, as my mate.*
Because Vivian dared him to.
Three years. Not a single call. Not a single message. Nothing.
And now he stands here, convinced I carried his pup to term and waited like a good little she-wolf for him to come back and re-mark me.
A bitter smirk pulls at my lips. Before I can tell him about the miscarriage, his phone rings.
He pulls it out. The screen lights up: *My Princess*.
That's his contact name for Vivian.
I've seen it a thousand times. The way he'd stroke Vivian's hair and call her his little princess — right in front of me, his actual Luna.
He answers immediately.
"Logan—" Vivian's whiny sob bleeds through the speaker. "Hurry, please, my cramps are so bad, it hurts so much..."
His wolf surges to the surface. I can see it in his eyes — pupils blown wide, jaw tight with worry. But not for me. Never for me.
"Don't be scared. I'm coming right now."
He hangs up.
He pats my head — quick, careless — like I'm a docile she-wolf with no teeth.
"Let me go check on Vivian. I'll come back for you later."
And just like that, he's gone.
1,095 Days
Vivian has always loved putting on a show.
After Logan left, she posted on social media like clockwork. A photo of her drenched in sweat, curled up in Logan's arms. Logan's hand gently rubbing her stomach.
Her caption: *He's been taking care of me since we were pups. No matter what he's doing, no matter who he's with — if I need him, he drops everything and comes to me. He's the best male in the whole world!!!*
I hit "like."
Not just that once. Every single day for three years, Vivian posted. Three years. 1,095 posts about how perfect her life with Logan was. I liked every single one.
She showed off everything. Logan gave her a credit card — spend whatever you want. She moved into the pack house, into what used to be our room. My things? She used what she liked and tossed the rest.
For three years, she and Logan did everything mates do.
I know she posted all of it for me to see.
Every "like" I gave was pure indifference. Not jealousy. Not pain. Just nothing.
But Vivian? She was convinced I was seething. Obsessed. Stalking her posts out of heartbreak.
The next time I see Logan, he walks into my café with Vivian on his arm.
They're wearing matching outfits. Brown tones, coordinated down to the jackets. Logan — who only ever wore plain, stiff suits — is now dressed in some trendy, casual blazer.
I remember asking him to wear matching outfits with me. Every time, he said an Alpha had to look the part, and he wasn't going to show up to pack business dressed like a pup.
Vivian scans my café, eyebrows raised. She looks surprised that I actually have something of my own.
Logan frowns at me.
"I gave you half the pack's resources when we split. Why are you working this hard?"
When we rejected the bond, I asked for half of everything. He handed it over without blinking.
I stop making the coffee in my hands. I look up at him, face blank.
"Because I want to. And it's none of your business."
Logan doesn't react. He still thinks I'm just mad at him.
Vivian puts on her sweetest smile. "Clara! It's been three years. How are you doing?"
"Fine."
She doesn't expect the calm.
Logan's phone rings. He steps outside to take the call.
The second he's gone, Vivian drops the act. The smile vanishes. What replaces it is pure, sharp triumph.
"Cut the hard-to-get crap. And don't get too excited."
She looks down at me, chin lifted, a smirk curling her lips.
"Even if Logan re-marks you — so what?"
"Helena never liked you. In her eyes, I've always been the perfect Luna."
"Logan's only doing this out of obligation."
"He asked my permission before coming to find you. I said yes."
"And you'll need to sign this before any re-marking."
"Oh — I wrote it myself."
She pulls a document from her bag and places it in front of me.
I glance down.
All of Blackthorn Pack's territory and assets — none of it mine. In public, I cannot claim the title of Luna. I must introduce myself as Logan's former mate. Nothing more.
I almost laugh. Almost.
I push the document back to her.
"If Helena loves you so much, how come you're still nothing after three years?"
"Logan's had you around all this time and still won't mark you. That's just sad."
Vivian's face twists. She raises her hand to slap me.
But behind her, footsteps approach — Logan, coming back.
She flips like a switch. Tears pour down her cheeks instantly. Her voice turns small, wounded, and unbearably sweet.
"Clara, I really do hope you and Logan can be together again."
"As his childhood friend, all I want is for him to be happy."
"This agreement is just a formality. Please don't be upset, okay?"
Same performance as three years ago. Nothing's changed.
And Logan? The second he sees her cry, his brain turns to mush. His wolf goes protective, his jaw tightens, and every ounce of logic leaves his body.
He can't tell right from wrong when Vivian's tears are involved.
Not Your Pup
"Vivian, what happened?"
Logan pulls Vivian into his arms, his eyes flooding with concern — all of it aimed at her.
Vivian shakes her head, playing the wounded saint.
"It's nothing. It's my fault. Don't blame Clara."
The more she says that, the more Logan believes I'm the one who hurt her.
"Clara!"
He turns on me, voice cold, eyes flashing. Pure Alpha Tone.
"Apologize. Now."
That tone. Like he's commanding a slave, not his former Luna.
A cold smile tugs at my lips.
He growls low, baring his teeth. "Vivian grew up with me. She's like a sister to me."
"She's family. Can you stop treating her like an enemy?"
"If not for yourself, then do it for me. Be nice to her. Please."
My face stays blank. I saw this exact scene a hundred times three years ago.
I'm so over it.
I'm about to tell them both to get out when my phone buzzes on the counter. A video call.
The screen reads: *My Little Pup*.
Logan sees the name. His eyes light up — bright, golden, wolf pushing to the surface.
He lunges for the phone, hitting accept before I can stop him.
I snatch it back. My two-year-old pup's round little face fills the screen.
"Mommy, I miss you."
Logan hears that word — *Mommy* — and his whole body vibrates. His wolf howls inside him. I can practically feel it.
He's convinced. He thinks I had his pup.
I say a few quick words to Asher. The second Logan reaches for the phone again, I hang up.
"Let me see my pup!"
He's grinning ear to ear now. All that anger from two seconds ago? Gone. Like it never happened.
Vivian's face quietly darkens.
"He's not your pup."
I lock my phone. My voice is ice.
"Stop showing up here. Both of you. You're a pair of delusional freaks."
Logan doesn't flinch. Still that same self-assured smirk.
"Come on, don't be mad."
"I really missed you and our pup."
It hits me then. A male this delusional won't believe I've moved on unless he sees my mate standing right in front of him.
Then he changes the subject.
"Helena's birthday is coming up."
"You're a great cook. Make a few of her favorite dishes."
"Use this as a chance to fix things between you two."
"Now that you've given her an heir, she won't give you a hard time anymore."
So he does know. Three years of being his Luna — three years of Helena tormenting me.
Helena despised me from day one. Low-born. No strong bloodline. Not fit to be Luna. Even though Logan marked me and made it official, Helena never once let me sit at the pack's table during gatherings.
If she was there, I wasn't allowed to eat with the pack.
I didn't like her either. We existed in cold silence — two she-wolves pretending the other didn't exist.
And through all of it, Logan said nothing. Did nothing.
A mocking smile curves my lips. I look at him and say:
"Logan, let me ask you something. Hypothetically."
"What if I cook a feast — and Helena still won't let me sit at the table?"
He hesitates.
"Just say something nice, soften her up."
"You know how she is. She barks loud but she doesn't bite."
Vivian chimes in sweetly: "Clara, there's no shame in a young she-wolf showing respect to an elder. Helena really softens up when someone gets on their knees and begs."
She's telling me to kneel.
I let out a dry laugh. My eyes lock onto Logan's dark gaze.
"Logan. Three years. Everything's changed."
"I have a new mate. And the pup is not yours."
Then I turn to Vivian.
"Why don't you try kneeling a little harder? Maybe you'll finally earn a spot inside the Blackthorn pack house."
They Took My Pup
Vivian bursts into tears.
"Me and my big mouth." She covers her face and runs out.
Logan's face goes dark. He shoots me a sharp look.
"Happy now, Clara? You made her cry. You unbelievable."
He chases after her.
My phone buzzes. A message from Kael:
*Project's done, my Luna. I'll be home tomorrow afternoon.*
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.
Let Logan see Kael with his own eyes. Then maybe, finally, he'll stop.
The next morning, I've barely unlocked the café door when my phone rings. It's the pup nursery.
"Ma'am, a male and a female came by. They said they were Asher's father and his godmother. They... they took him."
My heart stops. Ice shoots down my spine.
I run.
I find my pup at the Blackthorn pack house.
Vivian has Asher sitting inside a dog crate. Surrounded by two cats and a big dog. He's crying so hard his face is beet red, his tiny chest heaving.
Asher has been allergic to cat fur since he was born. One touch and his skin erupts.
Red welts already bloom across his neck. He's gasping.
Vivian doesn't care. She's shoving a black cat into his little arms.
"Don't be scared, Asher. Kitty is three years old, that makes her your big sister."
"She's Auntie Vivian's favorite. Give her a hug. Don't be rude. You'll scare her with all that crying."
Asher jerks his hands back, terrified.
The cat's claws slash across his face. Three thin lines of blood.
He screams.
"You scared Kitty," Vivian coos. But her eyes — her eyes are locked on my pup like a predator.
"Get your hands off him! Who the hell let you near my pup?!"
I lunge forward, fangs aching to drop.
I'm inches from reaching him when a pair of arms locks around my waist from behind and drags me back.
Logan.
"Vivian was just being nice. She wanted Asher to have some playmates."
My eyes burn red at the edges. I whip around and slap him across the face.
"My pup is allergic to cat fur!"
"He doesn't play with cats!"
I lunge again. Logan grabs my wrist, crushing.
Vivian puts on that innocent, wounded face.
"It's Kitty's third birthday. She loves playing with pups."
"I just thought — since Asher's coming back to the Blackthorn Pack, they should get to know each other."
While she speaks, the black cat's claws rake across my pup's arms, his neck, his face. Crisscrossing scratches. Blood streaking his skin.
She adds sweetly: "Don't worry, my cats and dogs are all vaccinated. Very clean. Kitty even sleeps in my bed every night."
Watching my pup sob so hard he can't breathe — I thrash against Logan. Violent. My wolf is howling inside me.
Logan tightens his grip, voice soothing.
"Pups can't be raised soft, Clara."
"He's going to inherit the Blackthorn Pack one day. He needs to learn courage. Can't have the future Alpha scared of a cat."
Then — Asher's eyes roll back. His little body goes limp.
"He's going into anaphylactic shock!"
*Now* Logan understands.
I rip free, scoop my pup into my arms, and run for the healers.
Logan and Vivian follow.
In the healing room, Asher is rushed into emergency treatment. A healer hands me the consent form.
"We need a signature from the pup's father or mother."
Logan steps forward fast.
"I'm the father. I'll sign it."
He reaches for the paper — and a deep, thunderous voice cuts through the hall.
It rolls out with full Alpha Tone. Every werewolf in the room freezes.
*"Since when is my pup yours?"*