Rejected by My Alpha Mate

I woke before dawn to the sound of wolves howling at the border.

Not distress calls. Not challenges. Something else. Something that made the air in the omega quarters feel thick and electric.

I dressed quickly, ignoring the ache in my ribs. Shadow was gone—taken yesterday by Juliette like a trophy. But I'd sent the message to Archer. If he'd received it, if he'd acted—

The packhouse was chaos when I stepped into the hallway. Warriors ran past me toward the border. Voices shouted orders. Someone yelled about Lycan aura.

I slipped outside through the kitchen door.

The pre-dawn air was cold. Gray light filtered through the trees. I made my way toward the border, staying in the shadows, my hand pressed protectively over my belly.

By the time I reached the tree line, it was over.

Marcus's border guards stood frozen in place. Not from fear—from biology. Their wolves had forced submission before they could even raise a challenge. I could see it in their rigid postures, the way their heads were bowed slightly, the tension in their shoulders as they fought instincts they couldn't override.

And beyond them, already disappearing into the forest on the Nighthollow side—four massive Lycan enforcers. Even at this distance, their aura pressed against my skin like a physical weight. One of them carried Shadow in his arms. My wolf-dog wasn't struggling. He looked... content.

Relief crashed through me so hard my knees nearly buckled.

One of Marcus's guards finally found his voice. "What the hell was that?"

"Lycans," another whispered. "Full-blood Lycans. On our border."

"Why? We haven't had contact with Nighthollow in years."

I turned and walked back to the packhouse before anyone could see me.

But I heard the whispers starting. Felt the weight of questions I wasn't ready to answer.

Not yet.

---

The day passed in a strange, suspended tension.

Marcus called an emergency council meeting. I wasn't invited, but I heard about it from the omegas in the kitchen. The border guards had reported everything—the Lycan enforcers, the overwhelming aura, the retrieval of "the Luna's wolf-dog."

Juliette had apparently thrown a fit when she discovered Shadow was gone. Demanded Marcus send warriors to retrieve him. He'd refused. You didn't pick fights with Lycan enforcers over a dog.

But the questions were spreading through the pack like wildfire. Why would Lycans answer Luna's call? Who was she, really? What connections did she have that none of them knew about?

I stayed in the omega quarters. Packed my few belongings. Waited.

As the sun began to set, I felt it—a pull through the mind-link. Not words. Just presence. Warmth. Strength.

Archer was here.

I grabbed my jacket and walked out of the packhouse for the last time.

---

The border clearing was empty except for them.

Archer stood at the boundary line, exactly where Ironcliff territory ended and neutral ground began. He wore dark clothes that made him look like part of the shadows. Beta Kane Morrison stood to his right—a massive wolf with silver-streaked hair and eyes that missed nothing. Behind them, a cadre of Lycan warriors waited in formation, their presence a silent declaration of power.

But I only saw Archer.

Ten years. Ten years since I'd seen him face-to-face. Since I'd chosen the mate bond over... over everything we could have been.

He looked the same. And completely different. Taller, maybe. Broader. His face had lost the softness of youth, replaced by sharp angles and a jaw that could have been carved from stone. But his eyes—those gold eyes that had watched me with quiet devotion since we were teenagers—those hadn't changed.

They took me in now. Every detail. The thinness of my frame. The faded bruises on my temple from the fall. The shadows beneath my eyes from three years of holding myself together.

And the slight swell of my belly.

His expression didn't change. Didn't harden or close off. If anything, something fierce and protective flared in those gold depths.

I stopped at the boundary line. We stood two feet apart. Close enough to touch. An entire world between us.

"Luna." His voice was deeper than I remembered. Rougher. It wrapped around my name like a physical thing.

"Archer." Mine came out barely a whisper.

He moved then. Slowly. Deliberately. Dropped to one knee in front of me.

Kane stiffened. The Lycan warriors shifted. A Lycan Prince didn't kneel. Not for anyone.

But Archer reached out and placed his hand gently over my abdomen. His palm was warm through my jacket. His fingers spread wide, protective, reverent.

When he looked up at me, his eyes blazed gold.

"Both of you are mine now," he said quietly. "If you'll let me."

Something inside me shattered.

All the strength I'd held onto. All the walls I'd built to survive three years of contempt and betrayal. All the careful control that had kept me standing when everything else fell apart.

It broke.

I collapsed forward into his arms. He caught me, rising smoothly, pulling me against his chest. And I wept. Deep, wrenching sobs that tore out of my chest like they'd been buried there for years.

Archer held me. One hand cradled the back of my head. The other stayed pressed against my belly, protecting the life growing there. His wolf rumbled—a sound that was half growl, half lullaby. Primal and soothing all at once.

"I've got you," he murmured against my hair. "I've got both of you. You're safe now."

I cried until I had nothing left. Until my throat was raw and my eyes burned and my body felt wrung out.

When I finally pulled back, Archer's shirt was soaked. But his expression was gentle. Patient.

"Tell me what you need," he said.

I took a shaky breath. Wiped my eyes. "I need to destroy them."

His smile was sharp. Dangerous. Beautiful.

"Good," he said. "Let's plan."