After My Mate Rejected Me, the Lycan Prince Claimed Me

The quarters they gave me were bigger than anything I'd had at Ironvale.

Two rooms. A sitting area with a fireplace. A bedroom with windows that faced east. The furniture was dark wood, solid, expensive. There was a bathroom with a tub deep enough to drown in. Everything smelled like cedar and something else. Something clean.

I set my bag on the bed and looked around.

It felt like a trap.

Not because Rhys had done anything wrong. Because good things always felt like traps now. Like if I let myself believe in them, they'd vanish. Or worse — they'd stay long enough for me to need them, then leave.

I unpacked slowly. Three changes of clothes. My notebooks. The contract, folded in the bottom of the bag. I smoothed it flat on the desk and read it again, even though I'd already memorized every line.

Protection. Resources. Healing. Public recognition.

Nothing about love. Nothing about forever.

That was good. That was what I wanted.

I pressed two fingers to the base of my neck. The skin there was still smooth. Still empty.

I took a shower. The water ran red for a long time.

---

The whispers started the next morning.

I heard them in the corridor outside my door. Low voices. Careful.

"...wolfless..."

"...scarred..."

"...what was he thinking..."

I stood on the other side of the door with my hand on the handle and listened. I did not open it. I waited until the voices moved away. Then I got dressed.

Black pants. A high-necked shirt that covered the place where my mark used to be. Boots with good traction.

I braided my hair tight.

Then I walked out into the pack house like I owned it.

---

The security briefing was in a room with a long table and maps covering every wall. When I walked in, eight wolves turned to look at me. Seven of them were men. The eighth was a woman with silver streaks in her dark hair and a Gamma's posture.

Callum was at the head of the table. He looked at me. Then at the empty chair beside him.

"Miss Wells," he said. His tone was polite. Carefully polite.

I sat down.

Rhys was not there. I did not ask where he was.

Callum gestured to the map on the wall. "We're reviewing patrol rotations along the eastern border. There's been increased activity—"

"You have a gap," I said.

The room went quiet.

Callum's jaw tightened. "Excuse me?"

I stood up and walked to the map. I pointed to a section between two patrol zones. "Here. Your rotations overlap in the north but leave a two-hour window in this sector. If someone's watching your patterns, that's where they'll move."

One of the Deltas leaned forward. "We've run these routes for six months. There's been no breach."

"Because no one's tested it yet," I said. I pulled out my notebook and flipped to a page I'd marked last night. "Rogue movement increases in spring. They follow game trails. This sector has three trails that converge near your border. If they're coordinated, they'll use the gap."

I set the notebook on the table.

Callum looked at it. Then at me. His expression was unreadable.

"Adjust the rotation," he said quietly. "Add a swing patrol through that sector."

The Delta nodded.

No one spoke against me after that.

When the briefing ended, Callum stayed in his seat while the others filed out. I started to gather my notes.

"You're good at this," he said.

I looked up.

"Reading patterns," he continued. "Seeing what others miss."

"I had a lot of practice," I said.

He nodded slowly. "Ironvale's loss."

I did not respond. I picked up my notebook and walked out.

In the corridor, I heard two she-wolves talking near the stairs.

"...contract mate..."

"...he must have a reason..."

"...she's not even whole..."

I kept walking. My spine was straight. My hands were steady.

I had heard worse.

---

Elias came to my quarters that evening.

He was older than I expected. Gray hair. Steady hands. He carried a leather bag that smelled like herbs and something sharper.

"The Prince asked me to examine your wounds," he said. His voice was kind. Professional.

I nodded. I turned around and lifted my shirt.

I heard him inhale.

"How long have you had these?" he asked quietly.

"Three years."

"And no one treated them properly?"

"Someone treated them," I said. "They just never healed."

His fingers were gentle when he touched the scars. He traced one. Then another. I felt him counting.

"Thirty," he said finally.

"Yes."

"These aren't ordinary wounds." His voice had gone very quiet. "The wolfsbane concentration is extraordinary. Whoever clawed you was using modified weapons."

I closed my eyes.

"Can you fix it?" I asked.

He was silent for a long moment.

"I can try," he said. "There's a treatment. Lunar-charged compounds. Moonstone infusions. It will take weeks. And it will hurt."

"I don't care."

"Miss Wells—"

"I don't care," I said again. "If there's a chance my wolf can come back, I'll do it."

He nodded slowly. "I'll prepare the first treatment. We'll start tomorrow night."

After he left, I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the wall.

My wolf stirred. Just once. A flicker of warmth in the hollow of my chest.

I pressed my hand there and held very still.

---

Rhys found me in his study an hour later.

I had not meant to go there. I had been walking through the pack house, trying to memorize the layout, and the door was open. Inside, there were books. Maps. A desk covered in reports.

I stepped inside without thinking.

"Looking for something?" His voice came from behind me.

I turned. He was standing in the doorway with his sleeves rolled up and ink on his fingers.

"I was just—" I stopped. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"

"It's fine," he said. He walked past me and set a folder on the desk. "You're welcome here."

I looked at him. At the way he moved. Unhurried. Certain.

"Elias told me about the treatment," I said.

Rhys nodded. "He said it would take weeks. That it would be painful."

"I can handle pain."

"I know you can." He looked at me. "That's not what I'm worried about."

I frowned. "Then what?"

"That you'll try to handle it alone," he said quietly.

I did not know what to say to that.

He leaned against the desk. "Elias also said the wolfsbane was weaponized. Someone armed those rogues deliberately."

My stomach tightened. "Why?"

"That's what I'm going to find out."

I pressed two fingers to the base of my neck. "What does this cost the alliance?"

Rhys looked at me for a long moment. His gray eyes were very steady.

"Nothing," he said. "This is not part of the contract."

I stared at him.

"You don't have to—"

"I know I don't have to," he said. "I want to."

The words sat between us. Heavy. Real.

I nodded once. I did not trust my voice.

I turned and walked to the door.

In the corridor outside, I stopped walking.

My hands were shaking.

I pressed them flat against the wall and counted to ten. Then twenty.

Then I kept walking.