His Rejection Unleashed the Lycan He Tried to Bury

The deer weighed sixty pounds across my shoulders. I could feel the blood seeping through my shirt, warm and sticky against my spine. I had tracked it for two days across Shadowvale territory, killed it clean with a single arrow, and carried it here on my back because that was what you did for your mate. A traditional offering. Proof of devotion.

The ceremonial grounds blazed with torchlight. Three hundred wolves filled the clearing, their voices rising in celebration. I pushed through the crowd, the deer's weight making my knees buckle. No one helped. A few wolves wrinkled their noses at the blood smell and stepped aside.

I reached the edge of the dais and looked up.

Arlo stood at the center, wearing his formal Alpha robes. Beside him, Natalia. The Luna circlet already sat on her head, silver and gleaming. Her hand rested in his.

My stomach dropped.

I told myself I was wrong. The ceremony hadn't started yet. He was just—positioning her. Rehearsing. But then his eyes found mine across the crowd, and I saw it: cold recognition. Not surprise. Not guilt.

Calculation.

"Maddie Cole." His voice cut through the noise, amplified by his Alpha tone. Every wolf in the clearing went silent. "Step forward."

I didn't want to. My legs moved anyway, the bond tugging me like a leash. I dragged the deer with me, its hooves scraping dirt. When I reached the base of the dais, I let it drop. The thud echoed.

"I brought—" My voice cracked. I swallowed and tried again. "I brought you an offering. For tonight. For us."

Arlo looked down at the deer, then back at me. His lip curled.

"I, Arlo Vance, Alpha of Shadowvale," he said, each word deliberate, "reject you, Maddie Cole, as my mate."

The bond snapped.

It didn't break gently. It tore, like a rope under too much weight, fraying and splitting and finally ripping apart. The unmarked spot on my neck—the place where his bite should have been—ignited. White-hot. Hollow. I gasped and clapped a hand to my throat, but there was nothing there to hold. The bond wasn't a physical thing. It was inside me, woven through every nerve, and now it was burning out.

I heard someone scream. It might have been me.

My knees hit the ground. The world tilted. I tasted copper—blood, my own, rising in my throat. My abdomen cramped, a deep tearing pain low in my belly that felt wrong, too sharp, too wet.

Through the haze, I heard Arlo's voice again, bored and flat. "Get that thing out of here."

Boots appeared in my line of sight. Hands grabbed the deer by its antlers and dragged it away. I tried to reach for it—my offering, two days of tracking, proof I could provide—but my arm wouldn't move. Someone kicked dirt over the blood trail it left behind.

"Maddie." A softer voice, female. Natalia. She stood at the edge of the dais now, staring down at me. Her face was pale. "You need to go to the infirmary."

I wanted to laugh. The Luna, worried about the discarded Omega. How generous.

But I couldn't speak. The cramping in my belly intensified, radiating outward in waves. I curled forward, arms wrapped around my middle, and felt something warm and slick between my thighs. Blood. Too much of it.

Hands—different hands, rougher—hauled me upright. Two of Arlo's warriors, their faces blank. They dragged me away from the dais, my feet trailing uselessly behind me. The crowd parted, silent now. I caught fragments of whispers as we passed.

"—wolfless, what did she expect—"

"—embarrassment to the pack—"

"—finally got rid of her—"

The infirmary door slammed open. They dropped me onto a cot, metal cold against my back. The healer, Elara, appeared above me, her face tight with worry. She pressed a hand to my abdomen and hissed.

"She's hemorrhaging," she said sharply to the warriors. "I need to—"

"Alpha's orders." One of the warriors crossed his arms. "No treatment until he arrives."

Elara's eyes went wide. "She'll bleed out."

"Alpha's orders," he repeated.

I lay there, staring at the ceiling. The bond was gone. Completely silent. For three years, it had been a constant hum in the back of my mind—Arlo's mood, his presence, the faint tug of his location. Now there was nothing. Just a blank, aching void.

Footsteps in the hall. Heavy. Familiar.

Arlo walked in, still wearing his ceremonial robes. He didn't look at Elara. He looked at me.

"Hold her down," he said.

The warriors moved immediately, pinning my shoulders and legs. I tried to twist away, but my body was too weak, too broken. Elara made a strangled sound of protest.

Arlo pulled something from his belt. A brand. Iron, the tip glowing red-hot, soaked in something dark and viscous. The smell hit me a second later—wolfsbane, concentrated and sharp.

"No." The word barely made it past my lips. "Please—"

He pressed it to my abdomen.

The pain was immediate and absolute, a searing white agony that wiped out thought. I heard the hiss of burning flesh, smelled smoke and charred skin. Arlo leaned down, his hand closing around my throat, pinning me in place.

"You were never my mate," he said, his voice low and cold. "Just a wolfless Omega I kept around when I was bored. A bed-warmer. Did you really think I'd mark you?"

I couldn't breathe. His grip tightened.

"This," he said, pressing the brand harder, "makes sure you never trap anyone with a bastard pup. You're done, Maddie."

Through the bond's final, dying pulse, I felt it: his contempt. Sharp and absolute. Then—nothing.

He let go. I sucked in air, choking.

And something inside me moved.

Not my body. Deeper. A presence, enormous and furious, clawing its way upward through the wolfsbane's poison. My vision flashed silver. The cot groaned under my hands, metal bending, hairline cracks spidering outward.

A sound rose from my chest—low, resonant, too big for my human lungs. The walls shuddered.

Arlo stepped back, eyes darting to my face.

Then everything went dark.