Three years after leaving the pack, I thought I'd moved on.

Until that rainy night—when he walked in with his future Luna and checked into the hotel where I worked.

All I could do was keep my head down and process their check-in while my wolf, Aisha, whimpered inside me.

That night, three calls came from the penthouse suite—2101.

The first time, he coldly requested fresh sheets. Champagne stain, he said.

I dispatched a housekeeper with trembling hands.

The second time, he demanded another change—the sheets weren't soft enough for his woman's delicate skin.

I followed his orders, choking back tears, while Aisha clawed frantically at the walls of my consciousness.

At one in the morning, the phone shattered the silence for the third time.

"Alpha Crian, housekeeping has closed for the night. I'm sorry, we can't accommodate further requests."

The voice on the other end was nonchalant:

"Then come up and change them yourself, Elena."

I hung up.

My fingertips wouldn't stop trembling.

I'm a receptionist, not a maid.

And the fact that we were once intimate still gnawed at me like an open wound.

The colleague beside me leaned over, voice low, eyes gleaming with gossip:

"The penthouse again?"

I nodded without expression. She covered her mouth and giggled, her tone turning suggestive:

"Three sheet changes in one night? That man's stamina is something else!"

"But the cleaning crew's off the clock—what did he say?"

I took a deep breath. "He told me to go up and do it myself."

My colleague blinked, then let out a laugh. She was about to say something—

When the internal phone rang again.

She cleared her throat and answered with her professional voice.

A beat later: "Yes, Manager."

I couldn't hear the other end. Probably upper management.

She glanced at me.

After hanging up, she said with a mix of sympathy and helplessness: "Manager says you go to 2101 now and change those sheets—or you're fired."

Ten minutes later, I stood outside Room 2101.

Aisha scratched and whimpered in the depths of my consciousness.

The back of my neck—where his mark had once been—stung faintly.

I slipped my hand into my uniform pocket, fingers closing around the cold Lynx-7 injector.

My Spirit Wolf was too weak to sustain herself without regular injections.

Fortunately, the timing was right—the medication would still mask her fragility.

Thank God I'd had the mark removed. I didn't want him to know what I'd become.

I pressed the doorbell.

Alpha Crian opened the door in a bathrobe, his chest half-exposed, still glistening with water droplets. The scent of cedar rolled off him—

a scent that once brought my soul peace, but now made my Spirit Wolf tremble.

He stepped aside to let me in. Cold eyes. Amber pupils like a predator's in the dim light.

Running water echoed from the bathroom, laced with the cloying scent of another woman—

it stung my nostrils and made my eyes burn. Aisha curled up in disgust.

He led me to the master bedroom.

Then dropped lazily onto the leather sofa.

He drew a cigarette from a silver case, placed it between his lips, and lit it. Through the curling smoke,

those amber eyes pinned me in place. The hair on the back of my neck rose.

I walked to the bed in silence and pulled back the tangled blanket.

The wet stain on the sheet hit me without warning.

Their mingled scents clung to the fabric—a dull blade dragged across every nerve.

An invisible claw raked across my chest. Aisha curled up in agony, letting out a silent wail.

He blew a smoke ring, lazy and arrogant:

"Thanks for the trouble. Sophia's particular—can't sleep on dirty sheets."

"Hurry up. She's exhausted."

I fought to keep my voice steady. "Just a few minutes, Alpha Crian."

I stripped the sheets—their mingled scent making my stomach lurch—and laid down fresh ones.

I gathered the soiled linens and turned to leave—to escape this suffocating room.

But Alpha Crian moved with supernatural speed, closing the distance in a blur and pinning me against the edge of the bed.

The pressure of a top-tier Alpha crashed down on me like a mountain.

I fell back onto the mattress with a startled cry.

He seized both my wrists and pinned me beneath him. I couldn't move an inch.

His body heat seared through our clothes.

A voice drifted from the bathroom: "Darling, what's wrong?"

Alpha Crian stared down at me, a dark amusement in his eyes. He didn't answer.

His Adam's apple bobbed. His nostrils flared, drinking in my scent of fear.

My heart hammered so hard I thought it would crack my ribs.

Aisha thrashed uselessly inside me.

It felt like a century. The water in the bathroom could stop at any second—

Alpha Crian finally sneered, eyes still locked on me like a predator savoring the chase.

He called back: "Nothing. Just a stray kitten that wandered in. I'm chasing it out."

"A kitten?" Sophia sounded skeptical, but the water kept running.

I pushed against his chest, my voice dropping to a desperate whisper—

my body trembling from fear and old injuries:

"Your mate will misunderstand. Let me go."

His eyes were cold. His breath, heavy with whiskey, washed over my ear and sent shivers crawling across my skin.

His canines glinted in the low light.

"After all these years, I still can't understand."

"You were my Fated Mate. Why did you betray me and throw yourself at that half-blood nobody?"

The water in the bathroom cut off.

He didn't move. He was enjoying this—watching my Spirit Wolf writhe.

Just as the tears were about to spill, he released me.

I grabbed the dirty linens and fled.

As the door swung shut, I heard her voice, sweet and coy:

"Darling, you can't wear me out anymore... I'm so tired."

I ran to the elevator lobby like a hunted animal. My heartbeat slowly steadied, but Aisha was still howling with grief.

I'd imagined a thousand times what it would be like to see him again.

I never imagined that after three years, he'd still hate me this much.

I wished we'd never crossed paths again—that I could just disappear quietly into some forgotten corner and die.

Rejected Luna: The Alpha's Obsessive Regret — Chapter 3

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