Rejected by Fated Mate

Three weeks had passed since I lost my pups. Three weeks of hollow emptiness where life had once grown. I moved through the pack house like a ghost, avoiding pitying glances and whispered condolences. Today, I had a purpose—documents my mother needed for her disability benefits were in Chandler's office. With any luck, I could retrieve them without seeing him.

The Alpha office door was unlocked. I slipped inside, relieved to find it empty. Chandler's laptop sat open on his desk, its screen glowing softly in the dim light. As I reached for the files, movement on the screen caught my eye.

My blood turned to ice.

There on the display was Lilith—naked, writhing on silk sheets I recognized from Chandler's private yacht cabin. Her jasmine scent practically wafted from the screen as she arched her back, calling out in ecstasy.

"Chandler... yes, right there..."

My hands trembled as I touched the keyboard. The video paused, revealing a timestamp from two nights ago—when Chandler had claimed he was patrolling pack borders.

"No," I whispered, scrolling through the hidden folder that had automatically opened. "No, no, no..."

Months of videos. Photos. Intimate moments captured in high definition. All featuring my mate and the woman who had tortured my mother.

"What are you doing?"

I whirled around. Chandler stood in the doorway, his expression hardening as he took in the scene.

"I came for my mother's documents," I said, my voice surprisingly steady despite the earthquake happening inside me. "But I found... this."

He crossed the room in three strides, slamming the laptop closed. "You had no right to go through my personal files."

"Personal?" The word tasted bitter. "You're my mate, Chandler. My fated mate. What I saw was a violation of everything sacred between us."

His jaw tightened. "You're being paranoid, Madeline."

"Paranoid?" I laughed, the sound brittle even to my own ears. "I want a rejection. Formal. Official. I won't remain bonded to a mate who betrays the Moon Goddess's blessing."

Something dangerous flashed in his eyes. "Stop this paranoid behavior," he commanded, his Alpha tone vibrating through my bones.

My wolf whimpered as pressure crushed down on us both—Chandler forcing his dominance through our mate bond.

"These videos are fabricated," he said, his voice cold despite the lie. "Lilith is a pack healer, nothing more."

"They're on your laptop," I gasped, fighting against the weight of his command.

"Created by someone trying to cause problems between us." He leaned closer, his breath hot against my ear. "You will speak of this to no one. That's an Alpha command."

---

The next morning, I needed air. The mate bond felt like a noose around my neck after yesterday's confrontation. I decided to walk to the pack garage—Chandler had mentioned needing to retrieve something from his car.

As I approached his Alpha vehicle, a scent hit me like a physical blow. Jasmine and nightshade—Lilith's distinctive fragrance—saturated the passenger seat. I touched the leather, my enhanced senses picking up more than just scent.

The warmth of her body. The lingering evidence of their intimacy. From last night.

My stomach lurched. Another lie. The car hadn't been in the shop as he'd claimed.

I tore the seat cover loose, clutching it like evidence in a crime scene. Because that's what it was—a crime against our sacred bond.

When Chandler emerged from the pack house, I was waiting.

"Explain this," I said, thrusting the seat cover toward him.

His eyes narrowed at the fabric in my hand. "What is wrong with you?"

"Every night you've been gone—every border patrol, every pack emergency—you've been with her." My voice cracked. "Haven't you?"

Something snapped behind his eyes. He grabbed my wrist, his fingers digging into my skin hard enough to bruise.

"You're obsessed," he snarled, his face inches from mine. "Delusional. Paranoid."

"Even if I was seeing Lilith," he continued, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, "it would be my right as Alpha to choose a Luna who doesn't burden me with constant suspicion and dead mothers."

The words struck like physical blows. Dead mothers. As if my grief was a burden to him. As if my mother's suffering—my suffering—meant nothing.

Something broke inside me then—something fundamental and irreparable.

---

"Dr. Webb has been reassigned," Beta George informed me three days later, his expression carefully neutral.

"Reassigned?" I echoed, confused. "But he was making progress with my mother's treatment."

"The northern border outpost needs medical support," George explained, not meeting my eyes.

"But that's a wasteland! They barely need a first aid kit, let alone an experienced healer."

George's shoulders slumped slightly. "Alpha Chandler ordered it at Healer Lilith's recommendation."

My blood ran cold. "Lilith?"

"She claimed the resources were needed elsewhere," he admitted reluctantly.

I found Chandler in his office, papers spread before him as if nothing had changed.

"You can't do this," I pleaded. "My mother is finally showing improvement. Changing healers now could be catastrophic."

Chandler didn't look up. "Lilith's medical judgment supersedes sentimental attachments."

"Sentimental attachments?" I whispered, horror washing over me. "That's my mother."

"She's been paralyzed for years and will remain so regardless of treatment." His tone was dismissive, final.

As I left his office, the pieces fell into place with terrible clarity. Lilith wasn't just trying to take my mate—she was systematically removing anyone who might help my mother. Anyone who might give me hope.

She was isolating us, one by one, cutting off every lifeline until there would be nothing left of me but a hollow shell for her to crush.