Rejected By The Alpha: The Starlet's Return

Jayme POV:

The sedan smelled like him. It was psychological torture.

Autry insisted on driving me to the border. He called it "protocol." I called it making sure the trash was actually taken out.

We sat in a silence thick enough to choke on. I’d swapped the silk dresses he used to buy his "ward" for jeans and a hoodie.

"Where will you go?" Autry asked, knuckles white on the wheel.

"None of your concern, Mr. Villarreal."

The car swerved.

He growled. "Don't call me that. I am your Alpha."

"Not anymore," I replied, staring at the passing blur of trees. "I’m a Rogue. Your command is just noise."

We passed the town square. A massive billboard of Autry’s face loomed over us. His tech company owned the town, just like he thought he owned me.

"I'm doing this for the pack," he said, voice tight. "You couldn't handle the pressure. The Northern Alpha would eat you alive."

"You didn't reject me because I'm weak, Autry," I turned to his profile. "You rejected me because you're a coward. You're terrified of what the council would think of an orphan Luna."

He slammed the brakes. The car screeched to a halt inches from the border crossing.

He turned, eyes flashing gold. "Get out."

I grabbed my single suitcase.

"Jayme," he called as I walked toward the neutral zone.

I stopped.

"Don't come back. If you cross into Blood Moon territory, you’re a hostile trespasser."

"Don't worry," I said, gripping the handle until my fingers ached. "I'd rather die."

I crossed the invisible line. The heavy hum of the Pack Link—the mental web connecting us all—snapped off. Silence.

I was alone.

My phone buzzed. A notification from the Pack’s social feed.

Official Announcement: Alpha Autry Villarreal to accept Cassie Turner as his chosen mate. Celebration dinner tonight.

Below it, a live video. I shouldn't have clicked.

A bulldozer tore through the garden. My mother's moon-blooming roses were crushed into the mud.

Cassie stood in the foreground, champagne in hand.

"Out with the old trash, in with the new luxury," she laughed.

I threw my phone into a ditch.

I took a deep breath. The air didn't smell like chocolate and rain anymore. It smelled like dust and highway exhaust. It smelled like freedom.

"You think I'm trash, Cassie?" I whispered to the dark road. "Just wait."