After My Alpha Rejected Me, the Lycan Prince Claimed Me

I didn't sleep.

I sat in the small room Thomas had kept for us on the edge of the compound—just two beds, a desk, and a window that looked out toward the pines. The sky shifted from black to gray to pale pink, and I watched it all without blinking. My wolf was still silent. The hollow ache in my neck pulsed with every heartbeat.

When the first light broke over the tree line, I stood and changed into plain clothes. Jeans. A dark sweater. Boots. I braided my hair back tight and checked my reflection in the small mirror above the desk. My face was pale. My eyes looked bruised. But my hands were steady.

I had three things to collect before I left Ironridge for good.

The compound was quiet. Most of the pack was still asleep, knocked out from the celebration that had gone late into the night. I moved through the stone corridors like a ghost, keeping my footsteps soft, my aura pulled in tight so no one would sense me. The guards at the main hall were slumped against the wall, half-asleep. They didn't even glance my way.

I went to Thomas's room first. He was awake, sitting at the edge of his narrow bed, hands folded in his lap. He looked up when I opened the door. His eyes were red.

"Erin," he said quietly.

I crossed the room and knelt in front of him. "I need the jewelry box."

He didn't argue. He reached under the bed and pulled out the small wooden box with the false bottom, the one he'd kept hidden for as long as I could remember. He handed it to me without a word. I opened it carefully, checking the pendant inside—a platinum piece shaped like a howling wolf, delicate and old. My mother's. The only thing I had left of her.

I closed the box and tucked it into my coat. "Thank you."

Thomas reached out and gripped my hand. His fingers were rough and warm. "You're leaving."

"Yes."

"Good." His voice cracked. "You should have left years ago. I should have told you to run."

I squeezed his hand once. "I'll see you soon."

He nodded, but he didn't look convinced. I stood and left before either of us could say anything else.

The archive room was on the second floor of the east wing, tucked behind the Beta's office. I had catalogued every document in there myself over the past three years—territorial maps, summit rosters, alliance agreements, supply records. Colton had never cared about the archives. He thought paperwork was beneath him. But I knew exactly which files would matter at the summit.

I pushed open the heavy wooden door and stepped inside. The room smelled like old paper and dust. Rows of shelves stretched from floor to ceiling, packed tight with leather-bound volumes and rolled maps. I went straight to the back corner and pulled out the territorial boundary file and the current summit delegation roster.

I was sliding the documents into my bag when I heard footsteps in the corridor outside.

I froze.

The door swung open. Malia stepped through, still wearing the ceremonial Luna white from last night. The lace looked wrinkled now, and her lipstick was smudged at one corner, but she held herself like a queen. Her dark eyes locked on me.

"Erin," she said sweetly. She stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. "I thought I might find you here."

I straightened and slung the bag over my shoulder. "I'm collecting what's mine."

"Yours?" Malia tilted her head, her smile widening. "Sweetheart, nothing in this compound is yours anymore. Not after last night."

I looked at her without expression. My wolf was still silent, but something cold and sharp was rising in my chest. Something that didn't need a wolf to function.

Malia took a step closer, folding her arms. "I wanted to let you know personally—since you're still technically a guest of Ironridge—that Colton has decided you may attend the summit. Isn't that generous of him?"

I said nothing.

"But," she continued, her voice dripping with false sympathy, "Omega guests are permitted only in a service capacity. You'll be listed as a platter-carrier. Not a delegate, of course. You understand."

She waited for me to flinch. To argue. To beg.

I adjusted the strap on my bag and met her eyes. "Then I'll see you at the summit."

Her smile faltered. Just for a second.

I walked past her, close enough that our shoulders almost brushed. She smelled like gardenia and something metallic underneath. Burnt musk. It made my stomach turn.

Malia's voice followed me into the corridor. "You think you can just leave? You think anyone will want you now?"

I didn't stop. I kept walking, the documents secure in my bag, Thomas's pendant warm in my fist.

Behind me, Malia's footsteps echoed once, then went silent.

I stepped out into the cold morning air and didn't look back.