

The Alpha King Threw His True Mate Off a Cliff
The Alpha King Threw His True Mate Off a Cliff Summary
Chapter 1 of The Alpha King Threw His True Mate Off a Cliff
My fated mate chased me to the edge of a cliff.
He was also the Alpha King, the one every wolf alive feared.
I'd still believed he would take me away from the family that never loved me.
"Ronan, why?" I sobbed. "Why are you killing me?"
His eyes dropped to the silver mark below my collarbone. "You don't need to know."
The next second, I fell away into the dark.
---
*Three days earlier.*
The first crack came from my spine.
I was on my knees on the kitchen floor, palms flat on cold tile, when the pain ripped through me. My twenty-third birthday. Everyone in Cedar Ridge Pack had said my wolf was never coming.
"Mom!" My voice tore apart halfway through. "Mom, please!"
Through the wall, the TV went louder.
My ribs shifted. Something under my skin pulled tight, then split. I screamed until my throat burned raw.
"Can somebody shut her up?" That was Grant, my older brother, the golden son. "I've got patrol at five."
"Leave her," my father said. "If the wolf's real, she'll survive it. If not, it doesn't matter."
My mother said nothing at all.
I dragged my nails across the tile and left four white lines. Nobody opened the door.
Then the back door banged open.
"Maren! Oh my God, Maren!"
Piper, the omega girl who cleaned for half the families on our street and my only friend in the world, dropped beside me. She didn't flinch at the blood. She just grabbed my face with both hands.
"Look at me. Breathe with me. In. Out. You're almost there."
"It hurts." My teeth were shifting. "Piper, it hurts so bad."
"I know. I know, babe. Ride it. Don't fight it."
My bones snapped one last time. Then everything went still.
A voice rose up inside my head, warm and low, like it had been waiting there my whole life.
*Finally. Hello, Maren.*
I started laughing. Flat on my back, naked, shaking, covered in sweat, I laughed until I cried.
Piper stared at me. "Are you laughing or dying? Pick one."
"She's here," I whispered. "My wolf. She's actually here."
"Of course she is." Piper pulled a folded sweater out of her bag and pushed it over my head. "Arms up. Then you're eating. I brought soup."
She set a bowl in front of me. Then, from behind her back, she pulled out a cupcake with a single bent candle stuck in the frosting.
"Happy birthday," she said. "Don't tell anyone I stole the candle from the pack house."
I bit my lip so hard it stung. Nobody had given me a cake since I was six.
"Make a wish," she said.
I closed my eyes. *Let someone want me.*
When I blew it out, Piper gasped.
"Maren. Your chest."
I tugged the neckline down. Just under my collarbone, a mark glowed silver, a crescent wrapped in thin, curling lines.
"Is that—"
"A mate mark." Piper grabbed my wrist. "You have a mate. Somewhere out there, someone is *yours*."
My wolf hummed. *Ours.*
---
I ran the whole territory the next day.
The training field. The river trail. The market behind the pack house. I pressed my hand over the mark every time a male passed, waiting for it to burn.
It stayed cool.
"Anything?" Piper asked, jogging to keep up near the border fence.
"Nothing." I kicked at the dirt. "Maybe it's broken. Maybe *I'm* broken."
"Or maybe he's not from here." She tilted her head. "Did you hear? The royal convoy's coming in today."
I spun around. "The *King*?"
"Ronan himself. Somebody poisoned the eastern border with wolfsbane last week. Three warriors almost died. He's investigating personally."
"The Alpha King doesn't come to packs like ours."
"Well," Piper said, "he is now."
---
By noon, half of Cedar Ridge had packed the main road. I stood at the very back, on my toes, behind Grant and his friends.
Grant glanced over his shoulder and sneered. "What are you doing here? Go home."
"It's a public road."
"You stink like a fresh shift. It's embarrassing."
I didn't answer. Three black SUVs had rolled through the gate.
The crowd went silent. The car doors opened, and he stepped out.
Tall. Dark hair. A coat the color of ash. He moved like the air belonged to him, and every wolf on that road dropped their eyes without being told. I had heard the stories, about the rogue wars and the packs he'd burned. None of them had prepared me for the weight of him.
He walked past the Alpha's welcome line without slowing down.
Then he passed me and stopped.
The mark under my collarbone exploded with heat. I pressed my fist against it and nearly doubled over.
*Mate!* My wolf threw herself against my ribs. *Mate, mate, MATE!*
He turned slowly. Gray eyes locked on me.
"You." His voice was quiet, but it carried. "Come here."
People actually parted. Grant stumbled out of the way with his mouth hanging open.
I took one step. Ronan closed the rest of the distance himself. His hand clamped around my wrist and pulled my arm aside, his gaze dropping to the edge of my sweater, where silver light was bleeding through the fabric.
His own collar had slipped. Beneath it, the same crescent glowed on his skin.
"It's real," I breathed. "You feel it too. Don't you?"
His jaw worked. His grip tightened for half a second, hard enough to hurt.
Then he released me.
He didn't say a word. He turned and walked toward the pack house, his guards falling in behind him.
The road erupted.
"Did the King just *touch* her?"
"Maren? The late-bloomer?"
"What did he see on her?"
Grant grabbed my elbow. "What the hell was that?"
I yanked free. I couldn't stop smiling.
"Nothing you'd understand."
---
That night, I walked home with my hand pressed over the mark. It was still warm.
Piper had squealed into the phone for ten straight minutes. *Cinderella, Maren. You're literally Cinderella.*
Maybe I was. Maybe the girl nobody saved was finally going to be chosen.
I climbed the porch steps, rehearsing what I'd say if he came for me. *Yes.* That was all. Just *yes.*
The kitchen light was on. My parents never waited up for me.
Through the window, I saw my mother sitting at the table, white-faced, her hands knotted together. Across from her, in my father's chair, sat one of the King's guards.
On the table between them lay an old, yellowed photograph.
And my mother was crying.
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