Claimed Then Cast Aside

The cold punched into me like a fist as I pushed through the service exit. The storm outside raged harder than I remembered—it soaked through my uniform in seconds, plastering the thin fabric to my skin. My shoes slipped on the slick pavement as I ran, but I didn’t stop.

I couldn’t.

His scent still clung to my wrist.

Mine.

That single word had shattered me—filled me, then ripped me in two.

I ducked into an alley, my breath tearing from my lungs in broken sobs. My wolf was howling inside me, clawing at my ribs, desperate to go back. To return to our mate. To complete what had been started.

“No,” I gasped, pressing my back against the cold brick wall. “He rejected us. Did you forget that part?”

But Luna didn’t understand rejection. She didn’t understand shame. All she knew was that she had found her other half—and then been denied.

My fingers trembled as I touched the place where Rafael had gripped me. The memory of his warmth lingered, infuriatingly vivid. His scent. His voice. The way his eyes had widened in disbelief.

And then the way they’d gone cold.

Just an Omega.

The words rang louder than the storm.

I slid down the wall and curled into myself. My bones ached. My skin burned. The shift was coming, uninvited and violent. Omegas didn’t shift easily—not unless we were pushed to the edge.

I was past the edge now.

My fingers spasmed, claws threatening to emerge. My teeth ached. My vision blurred.

“Not now,” I whispered, shaking. “Someone will see—”

A shadow moved near the alley entrance.

I froze.

“Hey—are you okay?”

The voice was male, cautious but not threatening. A man stepped into view, umbrella in one hand, the other raised in a peace offering. He looked... ordinary. Human. Warm brown eyes. Dark hair soaked from the rain. A concerned furrow between his brows.

“I’m fine,” I said too quickly.

“You don’t look fine,” he replied, crouching a few feet away. “You’re shaking.”

“I need... to be alone.”

He hesitated, then set the umbrella beside me and shrugged off his coat. “At least take this. You’re freezing.”

I didn’t want his help. But the coat was warm. Dry. I pulled it around my shoulders and tried not to whimper as another wave of pain rolled through me.

“I’m Ethan,” he said, not moving closer. “I was at the gala. I saw you run out.”

Of course he had.

God.

He’d seen it.

“All those people,” I croaked. “He said I was his mate—and then he said I was nothing.”

Ethan’s expression didn’t change. He didn’t flinch or offer empty sympathy.

He just said, “That must have hurt like hell.”

That simple truth undid me more than pity ever could. I let out a strangled laugh, then a sob. I couldn’t tell which it was.

“Come on,” he said gently. “Let me take you somewhere dry. You can scream into a pillow if you want.”

I didn’t know why I trusted him. Maybe because he hadn’t tried to touch me. Maybe because he hadn’t looked at me with disgust or worse—pity.

Maybe because my wolf, as broken as she was, didn’t sense danger in him.

I let him help me up.

—

Ethan’s apartment was small but warm, the scent of chamomile and lemon balm hanging in the air. Books lined the walls. A couch groaned under the weight of too many throw blankets. It felt like a safe place.

He handed me a cup of tea and sat across from me, legs crossed, not pushing, not prying.

“I’m not going to ask everything that happened,” he said. “But if you want to talk, I’ll listen.”

I stared into the tea.

“He said I was his mate,” I whispered. “And I felt it. I really—Luna, my wolf—she lit up like a fire inside me. And then he looked at me like I was dirt.”

Ethan nodded slowly. “And that kind of contradiction messes with your head. Makes you question your worth.”

“I already knew my worth,” I muttered. “Omega. Bottom of the pack. Unwanted. Powerless.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he said gently. “I meant your worth as a person. As someone who didn’t deserve to be discarded.”

I looked up sharply. “You’re not a wolf. How do you know anything about what I deserve?”

“I’m not a wolf,” he agreed. “But I’ve worked with plenty. My sister was one.”

Something shifted in his expression—pain, old and carefully buried.

“She was an Omega too,” he said after a moment. “And her first shift... didn’t go well. The pack labeled her broken. Defective. She didn’t survive it.”

My throat tightened.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

He nodded. “So when I see someone like you—someone who’s been hurt by that same system—I don’t need to be a wolf to understand.”

We sat in silence for a while. I sipped the tea. My hands stopped shaking.

“Thank you,” I said finally. “I don’t even know why I’m here.”

“Because you needed a place to fall apart,” he said simply. “And I had a couch.”

—

I stayed that night. And the next. Ethan never pushed. Never asked questions I wasn’t ready to answer. He just made sure I had food, tea, and a place to breathe.

But the mate bond didn’t let me rest.

Every night, I dreamed of Rafael.

Not the cruel Alpha who turned his back on me.

But the one whose eyes had found mine across the crowd. Whose voice had cracked when he whispered, “You’re mine.”

That version haunted me more than the real one ever could.

And in the quiet hours before dawn, I hated how much I still wanted him.

Even after everything.

Even knowing he’d never choose me.