From Pack Reject To The Lycan Prince's Obsession

The day my mother left the pack with her new mate, I clung to her sleeve, crying as we walked from one end of the territory to the other.

But she yanked her arm free and gave me a cold look. "Our bond as mother and daughter is over. From now on, call me 'Auntie' if we meet again."

My father had long abandoned the pack, and the council had approved her remarriage on the condition that she exchanged our last plot of fertile land and the pack house for it.

I had no clothes to wear, no food to eat. It was my step-grandmother, whom my mother had driven away years ago, who found me in the abandoned den. "Child," she said, "come with me."

---

That day, my voice was hoarse from crying, but my mother still rode away in the truck decorated with red ribbons, never looking back.

My brother, hearing my cries, turned to look at me curiously, but my mother sharply forced his head back around.

The pack members whispered that my mother was heartless, but that didn’t stop the council from sending someone to take over our house.

After all, as a female, I had no claim to inherit anything under pack law.

A kind-hearted pack member suggested that my uncle, who had taken over the house, should take me in, but his mate just hurled a bucket of water at her and snapped, "Not a chance."

I was left with no choice but to move to the pack’s abandoned den, in exchange for thirty pounds of cornmeal.

The day my step-grandmother came for me was the first snowfall of winter. By then, the cornmeal was long gone, and I had been surviving on wild herbs from the forest.

She and my grandfather had been a second mating for both—a widow and a widower, each with their own pups. We had no blood relation, and I’d only known her briefly before I was four or five.

I still remembered the first red ribbon I ever owned—she had bought it for me.

But after my grandfather passed, my mother had schemed to drive her out and take everything for herself. Even I had said cruel things to her back then.

In the end, she had no choice but to leave with her mated daughter.

Now, seeing her again, she looked much the same as I remembered, just a bit older, but still full of life.

She stared at me for a long moment, her eyes reddening. "You have your grandfather’s eyes."

I trembled, huddled in the corner of the den, too afraid to speak.

She didn’t seem to mind. She stepped forward and took my frostbitten hand. "Come, child. Let’s go home."

Home? Did I still have a home?

But at that moment, her words felt like a lifeline. I nodded through my tears, thinking that at least I wouldn’t freeze to death alone in the night.

Her home was in the neighboring pack territory, across a mountain.

The snow fell and melted as we walked, leaving us both caked in mud by the time we arrived.

I clutched my tattered bundle of belongings, hiding behind her as we entered the clean, well-kept yard. I stared at the black footprints I left behind, too afraid to take another step.

A sharp-looking woman stepped out of the house. I knew this was her daughter—my aunt. She had already mated by the time I was born, so I had never met her before.

She heard my greeting, but only frowned at me. I shrank under her gaze, nervously twisting the hem of my ragged clothes, terrified she might send me away.

But finally, she sighed and shook her head. "Come inside. You’re not a statue, standing there blocking the door."

My step-grandmother grinned and gave her a thumbs-up. "That’s my girl. I’m proud of you."

My aunt muttered under her breath, but there was no real anger in her tone. "Don’t underestimate me, Mom. Dad raised me for a time. I’ll honor that by taking her in."

My heart finally settled.

Hot water was already prepared, and my aunt had borrowed a set of clean clothes for me. I soaked in the tub, washing away the grime and tears of the past months.

As I cried silently, I promised myself I would work hard and repay their kindness.

---

As a pup, I knew I had been sent by my father to be raised by his second mate.

She was kind to me, but I always wondered how much of that kindness was for her own status in the pack.

I had secretly seen how my real mother treated my older brother—with such warmth and affection.

I envied him.

So when my father’s second mate passed away, and he sent me back to my real mother, I was overjoyed.

But she despised me.

And my father forgot about me.

I wasn’t an orphan, but I might as well have been.