After My Mate Rejected Me, The Lycan King Claimed Me

Morning light filtered through the blinds of Deacon's office, casting harsh shadows across the polished wooden floor. I stood outside the door, my heart hammering against my ribs. My wolf, though weak, stirred restlessly within me.

*We can do this,* she whispered. *We must.*

I smoothed down my simple gray dress—the only one Deacon hadn't openly mocked—and knocked softly.

"Enter," his voice commanded.

I pushed open the door to find exactly what I'd expected: Aylin perched on Deacon's lap behind his massive oak desk, her manicured fingers playing with the buttons of his shirt. Her blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her lips curved into a triumphant smile when she saw me.

"Luna Isabel," she purred, deliberately shifting closer to Deacon. "What a surprise."

Deacon's eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn't move away from Aylin. "What do you want?"

I lowered my gaze, playing the part of the broken, submissive Luna I'd perfected over years of abuse. "Alpha, may I speak with you... privately?"

Aylin laughed, the sound like breaking glass. "Privately? There's nothing private between an Alpha and his—"

"It's fine," Deacon cut her off, his tone dismissive. "Say what you need to say, Isabel."

I took a deep breath, letting my shoulders slump in defeat. "I've come to... to acknowledge that I'm not worthy of being Luna."

Aylin's eyes widened with surprise, then gleamed with satisfaction.

Deacon straightened, his interest piqued. "Not worthy?"

"Yes," I whispered, forcing tears to well in my eyes. "I'm too weak. Too inadequate. The pack deserves better—someone like Aylin, who truly understands your needs."

I watched his ego inflate before my eyes, just as I'd predicted. For years, I'd been the dutiful, sacrificing Luna. Now, I was handing him exactly what he wanted: validation of his choice to replace me.

"You're right," he said, his voice softening with smug satisfaction. "You've never been strong enough for this position."

"I know," I agreed, keeping my eyes downcast. "That's why I'm asking you to formally reject me."

Aylin's head snapped up, her expression shifting from triumph to suspicion. "What?"

Deacon's eyebrows rose. "You want me to reject you? Now?"

"Yes," I said, my voice breaking perfectly on cue. "Release me from our bond so Aylin can take her rightful place as Luna."

I saw the calculation in his eyes—the opportunity to be rid of me without appearing cruel, to grant his mistress the title she craved, all while maintaining his image as the magnanimous Alpha.

"Very well," he said, rising from his chair. Aylin scrambled off his lap, her face a mask of excitement barely contained.

Deacon circled around the desk, standing before me with all the pompous ceremony of a man about to bestow a great favor.

"I, Deacon Kelly, Alpha of Silver Claw," he began, his voice taking on the formal cadence of ancient ritual, "reject you, Isabel Morgan..."

The words hung in the air between us, heavy with power and consequence.

"Reject you as my mate, my Luna, and my equal..."

The first wave of pain hit like lightning, arcing through my body with such intensity that my knees buckled.

"Reject your claim to my pack, my protection, and my future..."

Another surge of agony tore through me, and I doubled over, clutching my stomach.

"By the power vested in me as Alpha, I sever our bond and cast you out."

The final words triggered an explosion of pain so intense that I couldn't suppress it. My body convulsed violently, and I vomited blood onto the polished floor of his office.

Through the haze of agony, I felt something shift inside me—a tiny spark of warmth where there had been only cold emptiness. My wolf stirred, her presence suddenly clearer than it had been in years.

*We're free,* she whispered, her voice stronger than before.

I wiped the blood from my mouth with the back of my hand, forcing myself to stand despite the tremors still wracking my body.

"I accept your rejection," I said, my voice steadier than I'd expected.

The mind-link that had connected me to the pack for so long snapped with a final, searing burst of pain. Then... silence. Blessed, wonderful silence in my head for the first time in years.

Without another word, I turned and walked out of his office, out of the pack house, and into the morning light.

Behind me, I heard Deacon call out in confusion, "Isabel? What are you doing?"

I didn't answer. My small duffel bag waited by the door, containing only essentials and the legal documents that would reclaim what was rightfully mine.

A hired car idled at the end of the driveway. As I slid into the backseat and gave the driver the address of the Royal Territory in London, I felt the weight of ten years of abuse beginning to lift.

My wolf stretched within me, her presence growing stronger with each mile that separated us from our former prison.

*We're free,* she repeated, and this time, I believed her.