Lycan King’s Second Chance Rejected Mate E-Book

Laura Dutton

• Herausgeber: BookRix
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2026

Beschreibung

He rejected me in front of everyone—like I was nothing.
One word. One choice. And my whole world cracked right there in the pack hall.

I ran. I hid in a human town. I told myself I was done with wolves, done with crowns, done with the bond that tried to drag me back to a man who didn’t want me. I built rules to survive. Rules to keep my pride. Rules to keep my heart from turning soft again.
Then the Lycan King showed up at my door.

Kade was richer than sin, feared by every pack, and used to getting his way. But the day he begged for a second chance, his eyes didn’t look like a king’s. They looked like a man haunted by what he’d done. He promised he wouldn’t touch me without permission. Promised he’d shut down the council that wanted me controlled. Promised he would earn every step back into my life.
I didn’t believe him.

Not until blood hit school floors.
Not until the council brought pack war into human walls.
Not until Kade stood in front of silver meant for me.
Now the king who broke me is offering me everything—protection, truth, loyalty—but it comes with a target on my back. Because the same people who cheered my rejection are done waiting.
They want me silent.

They want me owned.
And they’ll burn the world down to get it.
But I’m not the girl they rejected anymore.
If Kade wants me back, it’ll be on my rules.
And if the pack wants a fight…
I’ll give them one.

Leseprobe

Lycan King’s Second Chance Rejected Mate

Laura Dutton

Copyright © 2026 Laura DuttonAll rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the author, except for brief quotations used in reviews or other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Table of Contents

The Night I Got Marked Wrong

He Said “Rejected” Like It Was Nothing

Don’t Cry in Pack Territory

I Took My L and Walked Out

New School, Same Wolves

Humans Don’t Know What’s Hunting Them

He Pulled Up Like He Owned My Air

“You Ain’t My Mate” — Bet

When the Moon Hits, So Do I

Blood on My Sneakers

The Alpha’s Son Tried Me After Class

I Heard the King’s Coming

My Scent Changed Overnight

They Want Me Quiet — I Got Loud

He Looked at Me Like Regret

A Crown Don’t Mean You Clean

The Girl He Chose Ain’t Built Like Me

Pack Politics and Petty Lies

I Learned What My Wolf Really Is

He Asked for a “Second Chance” — Wild

I Let Him Get Close… Once

On Sight With the Queen’s Crew

My Best Friend Knew the Whole Time

The Truth Came Out Ugly

He Dropped to His Knees — Not for Show

I Almost Forgave Him (Almost)

War Howled Through Our Halls

The Bond Snapped… Then Burned Back

I Chose Me Before Any Mate

Lycan King’s Second Chance — My Rules

EPILOGUE

The Night I Got Marked Wrong

The Night I Got Marked Wrong

The first time his teeth sank into my skin, my whole life tilted sideways.

That morning at school, I was still acting like I had choices.

After last period, Kade Cross had caught me by the side doors like I was some problem he needed handled. Everybody in the hallway went quiet the way they always do when the Alpha’s kid moves. He didn’t even raise his voice. He didn’t have to.

“Bonfire tonight,” he’d said, eyes cold, jaw tight. “You’re coming.”

Like he could order my feet to walk.

I’d told myself it meant nothing. That he was just making sure every pack kid showed up. That I wasn’t special. That I was just another face in the crowd.

Now I stood in the tree line behind the Cross estate, staring at a fire big enough to light up half the woods, and I knew I’d been lying to myself all day.

Music thumped from somebody’s speaker. Cars were parked crooked in the grass like nobody cared if they got towed, like the rules didn’t touch us out here. Wolves—kids—laughed too loud, shoved each other, posted videos like it was a normal Friday night.

But it wasn’t normal.

Tonight was a claim night.

A marking.

Everybody knew it. Everybody felt it, even the ones pretending they didn’t. The air had that sharp edge to it, like the woods were holding their breath. The older pack members stood back, watching, not smiling. Enforcers in black jackets moved in slow circles, making sure nobody got stupid.

“Jada!” Maya popped up beside me, breathy like she’d been running. Her curls were pulled into a messy bun, and she had that look on her face like she was trying not to panic. “You made it. Thank God.”

“Wasn’t like I could say no,” I muttered.

Maya bumped my shoulder. “Stop. You could’ve ‘caught a fever.’ You could’ve—”

“Could’ve got my mom fined again? Could’ve had my work hours cut? Could’ve made it worse?” I kept my voice low, because even in a crowd, ears like ours catch everything. “I’m here.”

Maya’s gaze flicked to my neck. Bare. No jewelry. No scarf. She swallowed. “You sure you wanna be out like that?”

“I’m not hiding. That’s what they want.” My fingers found the hem of my hoodie anyway, tugging like it could protect me. “Besides, nobody’s looking at me like that.”

Maya didn’t answer right away. She just stared toward the center of the clearing, where the fire crackled and the pack elders had laid down a white cloth on a flat stone. Traditional stuff. Old rules.

A few girls from school stood near it already—Brielle James and her little crew—glossy lips, shiny hair, acting like this was prom and not a life sentence.

Brielle’s eyes cut to me, then away fast, like I’d stained her view.

Maya leaned in. “They’re saying Kade’s gonna pick tonight.”

“He’s not ‘picking.’” The words came out bitter. “It’s supposed to be fate, right?”

Maya’s mouth twisted. “Fate got hands, and people like Brielle pay it to look the other way.”

That was Maya. Always sharp. Always brave when it came to other people’s pain.

I wanted to laugh, but nothing in me felt light.

A shout went up near the driveway. Heads turned. Phones lifted.

Kade Cross walked in like the woods belonged to him. Like the fire was his. Like the night had been waiting.

He didn’t wear a crown or anything corny. Just dark jeans and a plain black tee, sleeves pushed up, showing the ink that wrapped his forearm. His hair was cut clean, and his face—God—his face was the kind you either hated on sight or stared at until you got caught.

His eyes swept the crowd and didn’t stop.

Not until they hit me.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t curious. It was straight through my chest, like he already knew where everything fragile in me lived.

My mouth went dry.

Maya whispered, “Don’t look back.”

Too late.

Kade’s jaw flexed once. Then he turned away like I wasn’t worth the trouble and headed for the elders.

My legs felt like they belonged to somebody else.

“See?” I said, trying to sound normal. “He’s doing Alpha stuff. Not me stuff.”

Maya didn’t buy it. “Jada, your scent is…”

“My scent is what?” I snapped before I could stop myself.

Maya’s eyes widened. “I’m not coming at you. I’m just saying—since lunch, you been different. Like, stronger. Like your wolf’s right under your skin.”

“That’s called stress.”

“Girl, that is not stress.”

I wanted to tell her she was wrong. I wanted to tell her everything was fine. I wanted to go back to being the girl who worried about homework and rent and whether the cafeteria lady would let me grab an extra milk.

Instead, I stood there watching Kade speak to the pack elders while Brielle leaned on her friends like she was already wearing his name.

A guy brushed past us, laughing, and his shoulder clipped mine.

“Watch it,” I said.

He glanced back, saw who I was, and his smile slid off his face. “My bad, Brooks.”

Brooks. Not Jada. Not a person. Just my last name, like I was a label on a box in the storage room.

I kept my chin up anyway.

Maya reached for my hand. “Come on. Let’s stand somewhere else.”

We moved closer to the crowd, where the noise could hide us.

That was when the pack elders called for quiet.

The music died. Conversations dropped into whispers. Even the fire sounded louder.

Alpha Cross stepped forward—Kade’s dad. Big man. Gray at his temples. Built like somebody who’s never had to ask twice for anything. His gaze hit the crowd like a warning.

“Tonight,” he said, voice carrying without effort, “we honor our laws.”

A few people murmured the old response. The kind you learn before you learn long division.

I didn’t say it. My mom used to. Before my dad died. Before we slid down the ranks and everybody started acting like we were contagious.

Alpha Cross continued, “We honor the bond. We honor the bloodline. We honor what the Moon chooses.”

Brielle straightened like the Moon had a personal contract with her.

Kade stood beside his father, face unreadable. Hands clasped behind his back like he was bored. Like this was a chore. Like he wasn’t about to decide somebody’s whole future.

My stomach turned.

The elder female—Ms. Rowe—stepped in with a shallow bowl. Inside was dark liquid. Not wine. Not punch.

Maya squeezed my fingers. “Don’t freak out.”

“Who’s freaking out?”

“You’re doing that thing where your voice goes flat and you pretend you’re fine.”

I shot her a look. “Stop reading me.”

Ms. Rowe lifted the bowl toward Kade. “Do you accept the burden of your role?”

Kade’s voice cut clean through the clearing. “I do.”

No emotion. No pride. Just a yes.

Ms. Rowe nodded and dipped her fingers into the bowl, drawing a line along Kade’s wrist. A ritual. A signal. Old magic mixed with old trauma.

Then she turned to the girls standing by the stone—Brielle and two others.

“The Moon calls,” she said. “Step forward when you feel it.”

Brielle stepped forward immediately.

Of course she did.

The other two girls hesitated, then backed away, eyes down. Smart. They didn’t want the attention. They didn’t want the heat.

Brielle’s smile was small, like she was trying to look humble. Like she wasn’t already planning her “future Luna” posts.

Kade’s gaze landed on her, and something in his face tightened.

He didn’t move right away.

Alpha Cross said something low near his ear. Kade gave a short nod.

Then Kade walked toward Brielle.

The crowd leaned in. Phones rose higher. People held their breath like this was a fight about to break out.

Brielle tilted her head, exposing her neck, eyes shining like she’d practiced this in the mirror.

Kade stopped in front of her.

For half a second, everything looked like the story everyone wanted.

Then Kade’s nostrils flared.

His head snapped to the side.

Straight at me again.

My blood ran cold.

Maya’s nails dug into my hand. “Jada…”

Kade took one step.

Not toward Brielle.

Toward the crowd.

Toward me.

People shifted out of his way without even thinking. Like their bodies knew better than their brains.

My feet wouldn’t move.

This can’t be happening.

His scent hit me before he got close—smoke, clean metal, something wild underneath that didn’t care about rules. It wrapped around me, heavy and real, and my wolf—silent most days—lifted her head like she’d been waiting.

Kade stopped right in front of me.

Up close, he looked even worse. Not “worse” like ugly. Worse like dangerous. Worse like the kind of boy your mom warns you about while knowing she can’t really stop you.

His eyes flicked over my face like he was searching for something he’d lost.

“What are you doing?” My voice came out low, shaky around the edges.

Kade didn’t answer.

He leaned in, not close enough to kiss, not close enough to whisper sweet. Close enough that the heat of him pressed into my space.

Maya tried to step between us. An enforcer grabbed her arm gently but firm and held her back.

“Maya!” I hissed.

“I’m here,” she snapped, eyes wide. “I’m right here.”

Kade’s hand lifted.

He didn’t touch my cheek. Didn’t take my waist. Nothing soft.

His fingers hooked under the collar of my hoodie and tugged it down just enough to bare the side of my neck.

My whole body went rigid.

“You need to stop,” I said, louder now.

Kade’s gaze dropped to my throat.

A sound slipped out of him—more growl than breath.

The crowd started whispering.

Somebody laughed like it was a joke.

Brielle’s voice cut sharp from behind him. “Kade? What the hell is this?”

He didn’t look back.

My pulse wasn’t a drum. It was a warning.

Kade’s mouth hovered by my neck. His lips brushed my skin, and my wolf reacted like she’d been slapped awake—no romance, no butterflies, just a raw pull that made my knees want to fold.

I hated it.

Hated how my body recognized something my mind couldn’t accept.

“Don’t,” I whispered, the word meant for him and my own traitor blood.

Kade’s teeth pressed in.

Pain flashed hot and bright.

Not a clean bite. Not a gentle claim. It felt wrong—too fast, too hard—like he was fighting himself even as he did it.

I gasped, hand flying up, not to push him away, but to grab onto something. My fingers caught his wrist.

The moment skin met skin, something inside me snapped into place like a lock turning.

My vision blurred for a second. The woods got too loud, too sharp. Every scent, every heartbeat around me slammed into my senses.

Kade jerked back like he’d been burned.

He stared at me, eyes blown wide, and for the first time all night, his mask cracked.

Shock.

Then anger.

Not at me—at the world, maybe. At whatever dumb cosmic joke just played out.

Brielle shoved forward, face twisted. “You marked her?” Her voice went shrill. “You marked her?”

The crowd erupted.

“What the—”

“No way—”

“That’s Jada Brooks—”

“Isn’t she like—”

I couldn’t hear the rest because my ears started ringing.

My hand clamped over my neck. Blood seeped between my fingers, warm and sticky. The bite burned, not like fire exactly—more like a deep ache that spread outward, claiming space in my skin.

Ms. Rowe stepped forward fast, eyes sharp. “Silence!”

Nobody listened.

Alpha Cross moved in, furious, voice like thunder. “Kade.”

Kade didn’t look at his dad.

He didn’t look at Brielle.

He only looked at me.

And the worst part?

He looked scared.

Not scared of me.

Scared of what I meant.

My throat tightened. “Why did you do that?”

Kade’s jaw worked like he was chewing glass.

“I didn’t—” He stopped, eyes flicking to the elders, to his father, to the hundreds of faces watching him. His voice dropped, hard and flat. “This isn’t—”

Brielle screamed, “Fix it!”

Maya tried to break free again. “Let her go! She’s bleeding—”

An enforcer finally released her, and Maya rushed to my side, hands hovering like she didn’t know where to touch without hurting me.

“Kade,” Ms. Rowe said, voice dangerous now, “the mark has been given.”

Kade’s nostrils flared again, like he was catching my scent and hating that his body reacted. He stared at the blood on my fingers.

Something ugly crossed his face.

Regret didn’t look pretty on him. It looked like a threat.

Alpha Cross stepped closer. “Son. Speak.”

The clearing went quiet in a messy way, like people were forcing themselves to shut up so they didn’t miss it.

Kade’s gaze locked on mine.

I didn’t drop it.

Everybody had spent years looking through me. Tonight, I refused to disappear.

His throat moved when he swallowed.

Then he said it—calm, clean, like it didn’t cost him anything.

“Rejected.”

The word hit the air and didn’t fall.

It hung there, heavy, waiting to see what it would break next.

He Said “Rejected” Like It Was Nothing

He said it like he was ordering fries—no heat, no shame, no nothing.

Morning light made everything worse. In the dark, last night almost felt like a nightmare I could shake off. In the daylight, the bite on my shoulder was still there under the gauze, sore and real, and my whole body still knew who put it there.

The pack clinic smelled like rubbing alcohol and wet fur. Ms. Rowe had her hair pulled back tight, glasses sitting low on her nose while she peeled the bandage off like she was unwrapping some ugly truth she already expected.

“You didn’t come home,” she said.

Didn’t answer. Couldn’t. My throat felt like it had gravel in it.

She leaned in, eyes sharp. “Raven… this is a claim mark.”

A laugh came out of me, dry and wrong. “No, it’s not.”

Ms. Rowe didn’t laugh back. She dabbed the skin with a cotton pad, gentle, like softness could fix what happened. “It is. Fresh. Deep enough to seal.”

The room tilted a little. Not dramatic. Not movie-style. Just enough to remind me my feet were on the floor but my head wasn’t with them.

Last night at the river bonfire, it all happened too fast. The music, the shouting, the pack kids acting grown because there was fire and moonlight and no parents close enough to grab anybody. Somebody had started a fight over a stupid comment. Then another person jumped in. Then the circle formed, everybody hungry for violence like it was a sport.

Darius Blackwell had shown up late, like he always did, like time waited on him.

Alpha’s son. Pack royalty. The one the teachers didn’t touch at school, the one the adults smiled at like he was already wearing a crown.

He hadn’t even been part of the fight at first. He was just watching, hands in his hoodie pockets, jaw set, eyes cold. And then somebody shoved me—hard—into him like I was trash in the way.

That part still played in my mind in quick flashes. His hand catching my arm. My shoulder smashing into his chest. The sudden snap in the air like something invisible tightened around us.

His face had changed when he got close. Not softer. Worse. Like he realized something and hated it.

Then he dragged me behind the trees, away from the crowd, and I thought—stupidly—I was about to get yelled at for starting trouble.

But he didn’t yell.

He just grabbed my shoulder, mouth close enough for me to feel his breath on my skin, and I remember saying his name like a warning.

“Darius—”

His teeth sank in anyway.

Not gentle. Not romantic. Like I belonged to him and he was mad about it.

I shoved him, hard, and ran. My legs didn’t stop until I hit the back porch at my aunt’s place, shaking so bad I almost dropped my keys.

I hadn’t slept. Couldn’t. Every time I closed my eyes, I felt that pull again—like a hook behind my ribs, tugging toward him.

Now Ms. Rowe straightened up and looked at me like she wanted to say something kind but didn’t know how.

“You need to tell your family,” she said.

“My family don’t run the pack,” I snapped before I could stop myself. “And they don’t matter.”

Ms. Rowe’s gaze slid away for half a second, like she knew what “don’t matter” meant in our world. Omega blood. Small house near the fence line. Aunt that worked doubles. A dad that vanished when I was little. A mom that used to hum old songs while she braided my hair, until one day she didn’t come back from a run.

I stood up off the exam table, the paper crinkling under me. “This mark don’t mean anything.”

“It means something to your wolf,” she said, steady. “And to his.”

“My wolf ain’t his problem.”

Ms. Rowe opened her mouth again, but the clinic door swung wide before she could get it out.

Cold air rushed in. And with it—

Him.

Darius Blackwell didn’t walk into rooms like regular people. He claimed space just by being in it. Tall, broad shoulders, dark hair messy like he didn’t care, and eyes so pale they looked wrong against his skin. His scent hit me a half second later, sharp like smoke and metal, and my whole body went stiff like it recognized him even if my brain wanted to play dumb.

The hook behind my ribs tugged. Hard.

I hated that. Hated the way my wolf leaned toward him like a thirsty dog.

Darius’s gaze landed on me and stayed. Not hungry. Not soft. Just fixed, like he was measuring how much damage he already did.

Ms. Rowe cleared her throat. “Darius. You shouldn’t be here.”

He didn’t look at her. “Leave us.”

That made me laugh for real this time. “You think you can order people around in here too?”

His jaw flexed. “Raven.”

Hearing my name from his mouth did something ugly inside me. Like my body wanted to take it as possession.

“Don’t,” I said, quick. “Don’t say my name like that.”

Ms. Rowe hesitated, then gave me a look that was half warning, half apology, and slipped out. The door clicked shut behind her.

Silence filled the clinic. The kind that pressed on your ears.

Darius stepped closer. Each step made the pull tighten. My wolf stirred, restless, like she wanted to run to him and bite him back.

He stopped two feet away. “You ran.”

“No kidding.”

“That was a mistake.”

I blinked at him. “Me running was a mistake?”

His eyes narrowed, like I was testing him. Like he wasn’t used to anybody talking back. “You shouldn’t have been at the bonfire.”

“You serious?” Heat crawled up my neck. “Half the pack was there.”

“I didn’t say half the pack,” he shot back. “I said you.”

That landed like a slap. Not because it was shocking. Because it sounded personal. Like he had a list in his head of who was allowed to breathe near him, and I wasn’t on it.

I took a step to the side, putting the exam table between us like it mattered. “So what, you marked me on purpose to teach me a lesson?”

His gaze dropped, fast, to my shoulder. “No.”

That one word was sharp. Quick. Like he meant it.

My stomach turned. “Then why’d you do it?”

His throat moved like he swallowed something bitter. “Because the bond hit.”

Hearing him say it out loud made my skin go tight. “So it’s real.”

He didn’t answer that. Didn’t deny it either.

I stared at him, waiting for the part where he said something human. Something like sorry. Something like I didn’t mean to hurt you.

Instead, he lifted his chin and his face went blank.

“This can’t happen,” he said.

A cold laugh tried to crawl out again, but it died in my mouth. “It already happened.”

“I’m not taking an omega mate.”

There it was. Clean. Ugly. Like he was reading from a rulebook.

My hands went numb. Not trembling. Not dramatic. Just numb, like blood stopped flowing.

“So that’s what I am to you,” I said. “An omega.”

He didn’t flinch. “That’s what you are.”

I wanted to swing on him. Deadass. I wanted to knock that calm off his face and make him feel even a piece of what he just did to me.

Instead, I leaned forward, voice low. “You put your teeth in me.”

His eyes flicked up, something hot flashing for half a second. Then it was gone. “And I’m fixing it.”

“Fixing it how?”

Darius’s mouth tightened. He didn’t like this part. I could tell he didn’t like it, like it tasted bad even for him.

Then he said the words that ripped the air apart.

“I reject you.”

No ceremony. No pack elders. No public announcement. Just him standing there in a clinic with fluorescent lights, saying it like it was a minor inconvenience.

The hook behind my ribs didn’t snap. It didn’t disappear. It just… twisted. Like somebody grabbed it and yanked it sideways.

My vision went weird at the edges. I pressed my nails into my palm, hard enough to leave marks, because I wasn’t about to fall apart in front of him.

A different kind of heat rose in my chest. Not love. Not longing. Pure rage.

“That’s it?” My voice came out steady, which surprised even me. “You really think you can say that and I’m supposed to what… thank you?”

He watched me like he was waiting for tears. Like he was ready to step over them.

None came.

His brows drew together. “This is how it has to be.”

“Because you said so?”

“Because I’m next in line,” he snapped, finally letting a crack show. “Because my father expects a certain mate. Because the Council expects it. Because I’m not throwing my whole life away for—”

“For what?” I leaned closer. “Finish it. For a girl you bit by accident?”

His nostrils flared. The air shifted, thick, like his wolf pushed forward behind his eyes.

“Watch your mouth,” he said, low.

“Or what?” The words came out before fear could catch them. “You’ll bite me again?”

He went still. Too still.

That pull tugged again, confused, angry, like my wolf didn’t know whether to submit or tear him open.

Darius’s gaze dropped to my shoulder again, and for a second—just one—he looked tired.

Not sorry. Not guilty. Just tired.

Then his face hardened back up. “The rejection stands. Don’t tell anyone about the mark. Ms. Rowe will handle it.”

My laugh was sharp. “Handle it? Like it’s paperwork?”

“You want this to turn into a spectacle?” he asked. “You want people sniffing you, asking questions, calling you a liar? You don’t want that, Raven.”

It hit me then—he wasn’t protecting me.

He was protecting himself.

My tongue pressed against my teeth. “So you came here to reject me and threaten me in the same breath.”

“I came here to end it before it starts,” he said.

“It started when you sank your teeth in,” I shot back. “You don’t get to erase that just because it’s messy.”

His eyes flashed. “I can.”

The way he said it—so sure—made something inside me go quiet.

Not my voice. Not my pride.

Something deeper.

A part of me that still believed the bond meant safety.

That part died right there on the clinic floor.

I took a slow breath, the kind you take when you’re about to make a decision you can’t undo. “Then do it,” I said. “Reject me. Be proud. Go tell the whole pack you couldn’t stand the idea of me.”

His gaze sharpened, like he didn’t expect me to challenge him that way. “I’m telling you to keep this quiet.”

“No.”

One word. Simple. Final.

His jaw flexed again. “Raven.”

“Don’t say my name like you own it.”

For a second, his hand twitched like he wanted to grab me. Not to hurt me—worse. To control me. To make me listen.

He didn’t. He shoved his hands back in his pockets, breathing slow through his nose like he was holding himself back.

Then he said, “There will be a pack meeting tonight. Eight-thirty. At the Hollow gym.”

My stomach dipped. The Hollow gym wasn’t for basketball. It was where pack law got read out loud. Where punishments happened. Where the Alpha sat up front like a judge.

“What for?” I asked, even though I already knew.

Darius looked right at me. “To make it official.”

So he did care about ceremony. Just not for me.

“Good,” I said, even if my chest felt like it had a bruise underneath it. “Let everybody see who you really are.”

His eyes narrowed. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“I’m not the one who bit the wrong person.”

That landed. I saw it land. His mouth tightened like he swallowed a curse.

He stepped toward the door, then paused with his hand on the knob.

“I didn’t choose this,” he said, voice rougher than before.

“Neither did I,” I answered.

He looked back at me one last time. Something in his eyes moved—fast—like regret trying to climb out.

Then he killed it. Turned the knob. Walked out.

The clinic felt too quiet after he left, like the air didn’t know what to do now.

Ms. Rowe came back in a moment later, eyes careful. “You okay?”

A laugh tried to come out, but it would’ve turned into something else, so I swallowed it.

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m good.”

She didn’t believe me. I didn’t care.

Outside, the sun was bright like the world had no idea it just watched me get thrown away.

The walk to school was short, but every step felt like I was moving through somebody else’s life. The mark on my shoulder burned under my shirt, not like fire—more like a reminder that wouldn’t shut up. My wolf was pacing inside me, not crying, not begging. She was pissed. Confused. Offended.

Good. Let her be offended.

School parking lot was already loud, kids hanging out by cars, laughing too hard, acting like the biggest thing in their life was a test they didn’t study for. Jade spotted me near the gate and started waving, her braids bouncing, hoop earrings catching the light.

She jogged up, smile ready… then her face shifted when she got close.

“Girl, you look like you fought a ghost,” she said quietly. “What happened?”

I opened my mouth.

Nothing came out.

Because if I said it out loud, it would be real in a whole new way. Not just in my skin. In the world.

A black SUV rolled into the lot like it owned the place. Everybody’s head turned. Conversations dipped.

Darius’s ride.

He stepped out, hoodie up, eyes already scanning. His crew fell in behind him—three boys from the upper ranks, all muscle and smug smiles.

And right beside him, like she belonged there, was Kensley Hart.

Perfect hair. Perfect nails. White sweater like she never touched dirt in her life. She slid her hand into his like it was normal.

Like there wasn’t a mark on my shoulder with his teeth in it.

Kensley’s eyes found me across the lot. Her smile didn’t reach her face.

Darius didn’t look my way.

Not once.

Jade followed my stare, then looked back at me, brows pulling together. “Raven… what did that man do to you?”

My phone buzzed in my pocket before I could answer.

Unknown number.

One message.

Pack Meeting. Hollow Gym. 8:30 PM. Attendance Mandatory.

Under it, another message popped up, like the sender wanted to make sure I understood.

Don’t embarrass the Alpha.

A slow, cold calm slid through me. Not peace. Not acceptance. Something harder.

Jade’s voice was still in my ear. “Talk to me. Please.”

Across the lot, Kensley leaned up and whispered something in Darius’s ear. He finally turned his head—just a little—like he felt me looking.

Our eyes met for half a second.

His face didn’t change.

He already decided who I was to him.

Now it was my turn to decide what I was going to be to everybody else.

Tonight, in pack territory, under the Alpha’s roof, I was either going to stay silent and let them write my story—

Or I was going to open my mouth and light the whole place up.

Don’t Cry in Pack Territory

I can’t help with evading AI content detectors.

Don’t Cry in Pack Territory

“Rejected.” One word, and my whole life got shoved off the table like it didn’t matter.

The gym lights were still buzzing behind me as I cut across the cracked blacktop, fast, head down, like I had somewhere to be besides falling apart. The air smelled like sweat and pine and that sharp metal tang from the chain-link fence where everybody liked to lean and talk big.

I didn’t look back. I couldn’t.

Mason Blackwell’s voice stayed stuck in my ears anyway—flat, clean, like he’d practiced saying it in a mirror. Like rejecting me was just another thing he checked off between practice and dinner at the Pack House.

A few people were still outside, lingering in groups, laughing too loud. They weren’t laughing at me. Not yet. Give it five minutes. Word in this pack moved quicker than smoke.

My throat felt raw. Not from crying—because I wasn’t about to do that out here—but from holding down everything that wanted to tear through my face.

“Yo. Sage!” Tasha jogged after me, her sneakers slapping the pavement. She caught up and grabbed my sleeve. “Stop. Stop for one second.”

I kept walking. “I’m good.”

“Girl, no you not.”

Her nails dug through the thin fabric like she was trying to anchor me to the earth. Tasha’s eyes were hard, but her mouth was tight like she was trying not to say the wrong thing.

“Let go,” I said.

She didn’t. “Not out here. You know how they are.”

I did. Pack Territory wasn’t a place for soft feelings. You showed pain, they treated it like blood in the water.

I finally stopped under the dead light of the parking lot lamp. It flickered like it couldn’t decide if it wanted to stay on.

Tasha leaned in close, voice low. “Where we left off is you just got embarrassed in front of half the pack. You don’t get to say you good like that fixes it.”

My jaw tightened. “I didn’t get embarrassed. He did what he did.”

Tasha gave me a look. “You hear yourself?”

I stared past her shoulder at the road that ran along the trees, where the pack line started. That line wasn’t just a sign. It was rules. It was eyes on you. It was the weight of everybody who thought omegas should be grateful for crumbs.

“Don’t,” I said. “Not here.”

“Okay.” She lifted both hands, like she was backing off. But she stayed close. “Then we move. We get you home. You breathe. You don’t give nobody a show.”

A laugh tried to crawl out of me and died halfway. “A show already happened.”

“Not the part they want,” she shot back. “They want you messy. They want you begging. They want you crying on that nasty pavement so they can replay it in their heads.”

Her words hit because they were true. In that gym, when Mason looked at me like I was nothing, it wasn’t just him. It was everybody who watched and didn’t blink.

I swallowed hard. The inside of my mouth tasted like pennies.

Tasha hooked her arm through mine and started steering me toward the side road that cut behind the school. “Come on. Back way.”

The back way meant fewer people, but it also meant going by the old training lot where pack patrol liked to hang out and pretend they were soldiers.

“Watch your face,” Tasha murmured as we rounded the corner.

“What about it?”

“Don’t let it crack.”

I didn’t answer. My face already felt like stone.

We passed the chain fence, and sure enough, there they were—two patrol guys in pack jackets, leaning on the hood of a beat-up truck. One of them was Kellan, an enforcer-in-training who always stared too long. The other was Rook, the kind of wolf who smiled like he was waiting for a reason.

Rook pushed off the hood. “Well damn,” he said, dragging the words out. “Omega Sage. Heard you just got put in your place.”

Tasha’s grip on my arm tightened. “Keep walking,” she muttered without moving her lips.

Rook stepped into our path anyway. “Ain’t you gonna say something? You famous now.”

My eyes lifted to his. “Move.”

Kellan snorted. “She got attitude.”

“After all that?” Rook clicked his tongue. “Crazy.”

Tasha angled her body, half in front of me. “We ain’t here for this.”

Rook leaned closer, sniffing the air like he had any right. “Still smellin’ like him, though. That’s nasty.”

My stomach rolled, not from fear, from rage. Mason’s scent wasn’t on me. Not anymore. The bond had snapped so fast it felt like somebody yanked a cord out of my chest. It left this hollow ache that didn’t have a name.

“Back up,” I said.

Rook smiled wider. “Or what?”

Or what. Like I didn’t have claws. Like I wasn’t a wolf just because my rank sat low.

I wanted to swing. I wanted to do something loud and final. But I could feel the eyes. Not just theirs. The trees. The hidden cameras on the school corner the pack paid for. Everything here watched.

So I did the only thing that kept me alive in this place.

I didn’t give him my pain.

I stepped around him, shoulder brushing his like it was nothing, and kept walking.

Rook laughed behind me. “That’s right. Keep it pushin’. Don’t cry in Pack Territory, Sage!”

The words followed like thrown rocks.

Tasha muttered something nasty under her breath, but she didn’t turn back either. We walked until the school disappeared behind the trees and the road dipped down toward Omega Row.

Omega Row was a line of small houses and trailers the pack pretended didn’t exist. The pavement was cracked, the streetlights were dim, and the mailboxes leaned like they’d given up.

My place sat near the end. A trailer with peeling paint and steps that groaned if you didn’t hit them right.

As we got closer, Tasha slowed.

“What?” I asked.

She didn’t answer. Her eyes locked on my front door.

It was open.

My chest went tight in a way that had nothing to do with Mason.

I picked up speed, boots hitting dirt, and ran up the steps. The door hung crooked, like somebody shoulder-checked it. Inside, the living room looked like a storm hit it—couch cushions ripped off, drawers dumped, my mom’s old photo frames smashed like they were trash.

Tasha came in behind me, breathing sharp. “Oh hell no.”

My hands went cold. Not shaking. Just cold.

I walked in slow, scanning, listening. No footsteps. No breathing. No scent of an intruder still fresh, just the sour leftovers of cheap cologne and pack arrogance.

On the wall above our tiny kitchen table, someone had spray-painted one word in thick black letters.

REJECT.

Tasha sucked her teeth. “They really did that.”

I stared at it like it was a joke that didn’t land. Like if I stared long enough, it would turn into something else.

A sound came out of me—half laugh, half something ugly. “They quick.”

“Who did this?” Tasha asked, already moving through the mess like she was looking for prints.

I didn’t have to guess hard. Wolves who felt brave when the Alpha’s son made a public call. Wolves who liked stomping on someone already down.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

I pulled it out.

UNKNOWN NUMBER:Pack House. Tonight. 10 PM. Don’t make it difficult.

No hello. No name. Like I was property being summoned.

Tasha read it over my shoulder. “Nah. That’s a threat.”

“It’s an order,” I said, voice flat.

She spun toward me. “From who?”

My thumb hovered, then I scrolled. Another message came in right after, like they knew I’d hesitate.

UNKNOWN NUMBER:Bring your things. Omega housing reassignment.

My tongue went numb.

Tasha blinked hard. “They can’t just—”

“Yes they can,” I said. “They do whatever they want.”

“Because of him?” Her voice rose, then she snapped it down like she remembered the walls had ears. “Because Mason said one word, they think they can trash your home and move you like a box?”

I kept staring at the message. The edges of my vision went sharp.

This wasn’t just humiliation. This was them making sure I understood my place.

Tasha stepped closer. “Sage. Look at me.”

My eyes slid to hers.

“You got options,” she said. “We can go to my aunt’s on the human side. She don’t play pack games.”

“Pack patrol checks the crossing,” I said.

“Not if we go the creek route.”

That route was illegal. That route was how you got branded a runner if you got caught. But it was also how people disappeared when they didn’t want to be owned.

I looked around at the wrecked trailer, at my mom’s broken frames, at the word on the wall like a stamp. I imagined walking into the Pack House, head bowed, carrying my life in a bag while they pointed and whispered.

No.

Not like that.

I turned and walked into my room. My closet door was torn off. My clothes were scattered, stepped on. Somebody had pulled out the shoebox under my bed—my cash, my old letters, my silver chain my dad left before he vanished from the pack—dumped like it meant nothing.

The chain was still there, tangled in dust.

I picked it up and wrapped it around my fist.

Tasha hovered in the doorway. “You okay?”

“Not crying,” I said.

“That ain’t what I asked.”

I took a breath through my nose. The air burned. “I’m thinking.”

“Good. Think fast.”

I grabbed my backpack and started shoving things in it—jeans, hoodie, charger, the chain, my wallet. Not everything. Just what mattered. The rest could rot in this trailer if it wanted to.

Tasha moved like she didn’t need to be told, grabbing my school binder, my sneakers, the little envelope where my mom kept emergency cash.

“Your mom gonna flip,” she said quietly.

“My mom’s at the diner,” I answered. “She won’t be home till late.”

Tasha paused. “You calling her?”

I stared at my phone again. My mom worked double shifts because the pack paid omegas crumbs. She already carried enough.

“If I call her,” I said, “she’s gonna come back here and beg them to stop.”

Tasha’s eyes softened. “She loves you.”

“I know.” My voice cracked on the last word. I hated it. I forced it steady again. “That’s why I’m not putting her in front of that.”

A car rolled past outside, slow. Headlights swept across the living room through the torn curtains.

Both of us froze.

The car stopped.

Tasha mouthed, “You got people?”

I shook my head.

A knock hit the doorframe—two hard taps, not polite. Like whoever it was already owned the space.

Then a voice, deep and calm, slid through the open doorway.

“Sage Carter,” it said. “You in there?”

My blood went colder than before.

I knew that voice.

Not Mason’s. Older. Meaner. The kind of voice that didn’t ask twice.

Tasha’s eyes widened. “That’s… that’s pack enforcement.”

The voice came again, closer this time. “Alpha’s order. You come with me now.”

My bag sat on the bed, half zipped, like it was caught between two lives.

Tasha whispered, “We can still run out the back.”

But the back window was small, and the patrol car was parked right where it could see the side yard. Whoever this was, he came ready.

I slid the chain into my pocket and zipped the bag the rest of the way.

Then I stepped into the hallway and faced the open door.

A tall man stood there in a black pack jacket with the enforcement patch on the shoulder. Shaved head. Scar over one eyebrow. His eyes flicked over the mess in my house like it was normal.

His gaze landed on me and didn’t soften.

“Grab your things,” he said. “You’re coming to the Pack House.”

Tasha edged up beside me, trying to look brave. “For what?”

He didn’t even look at her. “This ain’t your business.”

My mouth tasted like metal again.

“Am I under arrest?” I asked.

He finally smiled, just a little. “You can call it whatever helps you sleep.”

Behind him, in the dark of the road, another figure stepped out of the shadows. Tall. Broad shoulders. Familiar posture that used to mean safety when we were kids and he wasn’t looking at me like a mistake.

Mason Blackwell walked into the light.

His eyes met mine for one second.

Then he looked away like he didn’t owe me anything.

The enforcer said, “Let’s go, Sage.”

And all I could think was: if I walk into that Pack House tonight, I might not walk back out the same.

I Took My L and Walked Out

The word “rejected” still rang in my ears like somebody had slapped a bell right next to my head.

Pack territory was loud even at night—boots on gravel, doors slamming, somebody laughing too hard like nothing in the world was on fire. In the last hour, I’d stood on the edge of their main yard with my face turned away from the lights, telling myself not to break down where they could watch it like a show. I’d kept my mouth shut. I’d kept my pride—whatever scraps I had left.

And then I realized something simple.

Staying here was begging.

So I stopped begging.

Behind me, the pack house sat up on the hill like it owned the moon. Big white columns, black iron fence, cameras tucked in the corners. A whole castle for people who loved to act like they were tough because they had numbers.

A cold wind cut across my cheeks. The scent of pine and smoke mixed with the sharp bite of wolf around every corner. It was in the grass, the dirt, the walls. The whole place felt like him.

Jace.

Alpha Kane’s golden boy. The future. The one who said my name like it tasted bad, then threw me out like a bad grade.

My shoes crunched as I started down the drive. No dramatic run. No falling apart. Just walking. One step at a time, like my legs belonged to somebody who didn’t care.

A flashlight beam swung across the road and caught me dead in the chest.

“Yo! Where you think you going?”

Two guards stood by the gate, both older than me, both with that same pack smirk. Like they’d been waiting for this. Like my pain was their entertainment.

The taller one leaned on the fence. “Nyla, right?”

Hearing my name from him felt wrong. Like he didn’t earn it.

“Move,” I said.

He chuckled. “Damn. Somebody got her feelings stepped on.”

The other one, shorter, squinted at me. “Alpha’s orders was you stay on grounds tonight. You can’t just bounce.”

“Watch me.”

Tall Guard pushed off the fence and stepped into my path. “You really wanna make this a thing?”

A car door slammed up the hill. Voices floated from the house. I didn’t look. Looking meant hoping. Hoping meant getting hurt again.

“Listen,” Tall Guard said, like he was doing me a favor. “You got rejected. It happens. You stay here, you keep your head down, you heal up, you—”

“I’m not healing here,” I cut in. My voice came out calm, which surprised even me. “Not where everybody can sniff my business and act like they got jokes.”

Short Guard sniffed the air, eyes narrowing. “You ain’t got a ride.”

“So?”

Tall Guard glanced past me at the road like he was checking if somebody was watching. “You go out there alone, you don’t got pack protection. Stuff happens.”

“That supposed to scare me?” A laugh tried to come out, but it didn’t land. “Y’all think the world ends at this gate.”

He shifted, blocking the exit with his body. “Alpha said—”

“Alpha ain’t my daddy,” I snapped. The calm cracked for a second. “And Jace damn sure ain’t my anything.”

That name hit the air like gasoline. Both guards looked at each other, and I saw it—how they already knew. Everybody knew. That’s what being in a pack meant. No privacy. No soft place to fall.

A third scent drifted in, familiar and sweet under the wolf: perfume, cheap lip gloss, trouble.

Tasha stepped out from behind the guard booth, arms crossed over her chest. Her long braids were pulled into a high ponytail, and she had on a hoodie that probably cost more than my rent. Jace’s chosen crowd. The girls who always sat too close to the football captains. The ones who laughed loudest when somebody got embarrassed.

“Aw,” she said, dragging the word out. “Look at you, trying to be brave.”

My jaw tightened, but I didn’t give her the face she wanted. “Go to bed, Tasha.”

She walked up slow, like she was on a runway. “You really thought you were gonna be Luna one day. That’s crazy.”

The guards laughed again, like she told the funniest thing on earth.

My stomach didn’t drop. My hands didn’t shake. It was worse than that.

Everything went quiet inside me.

A memory flashed—Jace’s eyes cold and flat when he said it. The way the bond—whatever it was supposed to be—felt like a door slamming in my face. No heat. No pull. Just the final click of a lock.

Maybe that was the lesson.

Maybe some doors don’t open because they were never meant for you.

“Move,” I said again.

Tasha tilted her head. “Or what?”

“Or I’ll make you regret standing this close to me.”

Her smile twitched like she didn’t expect that. She glanced at the guards like, handle her.

Tall Guard stepped forward. “Nyla, chill.”

“No,” I said. “I been chill. Chill got me thrown away.”

A shadow moved on the hill. A figure at the top of the drive, half in the porch light. Broad shoulders. That walk you don’t forget. Like the ground owed him respect.

Jace.