Rowena's POV
The pain of rejection is like being burned alive from the inside out.
I collapse onto the ceremony ground, my naked body hitting the dirt hard. The golden thread that connected me to Callister—the mate bond that blazed so bright just seconds ago—is tearing apart. Each rip feels like someone's shredding my heart with claws.
"No, no, no," I gasp, clutching my chest. "Please, Callister, don't—"
But he's already said the words. The rejection is complete.
Around me, the pack erupts in shocked whispers. Some wolves gasp. Others laugh. I hear Seraphine's delighted giggle cut through the noise like a knife.
My small silver-white wolf whimpers inside me, confused and hurt. She doesn't understand why our mate is hurting us. Why the bond is dying.
Because we're not good enough, I think bitterly. Even for him.
"Rowena, get up." Uncle Dashiell's voice is cold. He throws a blanket over my naked body, but there's no kindness in the gesture. "You're embarrassing yourself."
Embarrassing myself? I just shifted for the first time in nineteen years! I found my fated mate! And he rejected me in front of everyone!
I struggle to my feet, wrapping the blanket tight around my shaking body. My legs barely hold me. The rejection pain is spreading through my veins like poison—because that's exactly what it is. Rejection poison. It kills weak wolves within days.
And I'm definitely weak.
Through blurry eyes, I look at Callister. He's standing twenty feet away, his face hard. He won't even look at me now. Behind him, Seraphine slides her hand into his, and he doesn't pull away.
Something inside me dies right there.
"Callister," I whisper, my voice breaking. "You promised. You said wolf or no wolf—"
"I lied." His voice is flat, emotionless. "I was a kid making stupid promises to make you feel better. Did you really think I'd mate a wolfless freak?"
The crowd laughs. Actually laughs.
My wolf howls in pain inside me, and I can feel her breaking too. We're dying. The rejection is killing us both.
"But I'm not wolfless anymore," I say desperately, hating how pathetic I sound. "I shifted. I have a wolf now. She's small, but she's real, and—"
"She's an omega," Callister cuts me off. His amber eyes finally meet mine, and they're full of disgust. "The weakest rank. Did you really think I'd choose an omega mate when I'm about to become Alpha?"
Each word is a punch to my stomach.
Uncle Dashiell places a hand on my shoulder, his grip tight enough to bruise. "Callister is right. You're not suitable for an Alpha mate. Accept the rejection with dignity, Rowena."
Dignity? What dignity do I have left?
I want to scream at them. Want to shift and attack. Want to make them feel even a fraction of this pain.
But I'm too weak. The poison is spreading fast—I can see dark lines creeping up my arms like black veins. My vision swims.
"Tomorrow," Callister announces loudly, addressing the whole pack now instead of me, "I'll be announcing my engagement to Seraphine Cortez. She's the mate I choose—powerful, worthy, everything a Luna should be."
Seraphine presses herself against his side, her smile victorious. "Sorry, Rowena," she says, her voice dripping fake sympathy. "But you understand, right? Callister needs someone strong. Someone who can actually give him powerful pups."
The pack murmurs in agreement. I hear voices saying Callister made the right choice. That I should be grateful he even considered me at all. That at least I finally shifted, even if it's too little too late.
My wolf is crying inside me. She's so confused. She doesn't understand pack politics or power or why our mate doesn't want us.
She just knows we're dying.
I stumble backward, away from Callister and Seraphine and the whole pack. Away from Uncle Dashiell's cold grip. My legs are shaking so hard I can barely walk.
"Where do you think you're going?" Dashiell calls after me.
"Away," I choke out. "I need—I can't—"
I run.
My wolf takes over, desperate to escape the pain. The blanket falls away as I shift mid-stride, and suddenly I'm running on four legs instead of two. My silver-white wolf is fast despite being small. She carries me away from the ceremony grounds, away from the laughter, away from everything.
We run toward the forest. Toward the dark trees at the edge of pack territory.
Someone shouts behind me. "She's heading for the Forbidden Woods! Someone stop her!"
But no one does. Why would they? I'm just a rejected omega. If I want to run into rogue territory and get myself killed, that's my choice.
The Forbidden Woods loom ahead—ancient trees that mark the border between werewolf land and Lycan territory. No wolf goes there. Rogues hunt in those woods. And worse things than rogues.
Lycans.
The same creatures who killed my parents twelve years ago.
I should stop running. Should turn around and go back to face my humiliation like Uncle Dashiell said.
But the rejection pain is too much. It's burning through my chest, making every breath agony. I'd rather die quick in the Forbidden Woods than slow from rejection poison.
My wolf crashes through the border, and immediately the air changes. It smells different here—wilder, dangerous. Ancient.
I run deeper, my paws flying over roots and rocks. I don't know where I'm going. Don't care.
Finally, my legs give out. I collapse under a massive oak tree, shifting back to human form. I'm naked again, covered in dirt and scratches, but I don't feel any of it. The rejection pain drowns out everything else.
Dark veins crawl up my arms, across my chest, reaching for my heart. I probably have hours before the poison kills me.
Good.
I curl up in a ball, my body shaking with sobs. My wolf whimpers weakly inside me. We just met, and now we're both dying.
"I'm sorry," I whisper to her. "I'm so sorry. You deserved better than this."
She presses against my consciousness, trying to comfort me even though she's hurting too. She's small and weak, but she's brave.
We're brave together, she seems to say.
I close my eyes, ready to let the poison take me.
That's when I hear it.
Footsteps. Heavy ones. Something big moving through the forest toward me.
My wolf's ears prick up, alert despite our pain. The footsteps are too heavy to be a normal wolf. Too controlled to be a rogue.
A voice cuts through the darkness—deep, powerful, like thunder rolling across the sky.
"You're on Lycan territory, little wolf."
I force my eyes open and see him.
A man standing in the shadows between the trees. Massive build. Eyes that glow molten gold in the darkness. Power radiates off him in waves that make my wolf want to submit and run at the same time.
He steps into the moonlight, and I see his face clearly.
Strong jaw. Dark hair. Battle scars across his bare chest. He's beautiful and terrifying.
And his eyes are fixed on me with an intensity that steals my breath.
"Trespassing on my land earns death," he says, his voice cold. "Give me one reason I shouldn't kill you right now."
I should be scared. Should beg for mercy.
But I'm already dying. What's one more death threat?
"Then do it," I rasp. "Kill me. I have nothing left anyway."
His eyes narrow. He moves closer, and I can see him better now—the sharp features, the predatory grace, the crown mark tattooed on his shoulder that marks him as royalty.
My blood turns to ice.
I know that mark. Everyone knows that mark.
"You're—" I can barely breathe. "You're Thorne Obsidian. The Lycan King."
The man who killed my parents.
His expression doesn't change, but something flickers in those gold eyes. He inhales deeply, scenting me.
Then his whole body goes rigid.
His eyes flash from gold to crimson—his Lycan surfacing. A low growl rumbles from his chest, and the sound makes every tree in the forest seem to tremble.
"No," he says, his voice strained. "Impossible."
But I feel it too.
A new golden thread spinning between us. Different from the one Callister destroyed. Stronger. Brighter. Blazing like the sun.
The second-chance mate bond.
My wolf lifts her head, suddenly alert. Mate, she whispers. Second mate.
Thorne stares at me like I'm a ghost. "You're Rowena Hartwell," he says slowly. "The daughter I orphaned twelve years ago."
I nod, unable to speak.
His jaw clenches. "And you're my second-chance mate."
The mate bond pulses between us, undeniable and fierce.
The Moon Goddess just bonded me to my parents' killer.