Rejected for Another Mate

The blueprints spread across my desk seemed to blur as Elena's voice crashed into my mind, her usual calm demeanor replaced by urgent panic.

*Sylvia! I need you to check something right away. It's about the Pack Registry.*

I straightened, pressing my palm against the cool glass of my drafting table. "What is it, Elena? I'm reviewing the Miami venue designs."

*It's your status. Something's... wrong.*

The tremor in her mental voice sent a chill through me. Elena Winters had been my Beta assistant for five years, and I'd never heard her sound so shaken.

"My status?" I murmured, more to myself than to her. "What could possibly be—"

*You're listed as unmated.*

The words hit me like a physical blow. My wolf, Luna, who had been quietly content inside me, suddenly stirred with confusion.

"That's impossible," I whispered, my fingers curling around the edge of the blueprint. "Grey and I have been paired for nearly two years. We've been planning the marking ceremony for months."

*Please, Sylvia. Just check the registry yourself. I'm coming to your office now.*

The mind-link faded, leaving me frozen above my designs. The rational part of my brain insisted there must be some clerical error. Grey Hoffman and I had recognized each other as mates almost immediately. His wolf had called to mine across the pack gathering two summers ago, and we'd been inseparable since.

My hands trembled slightly as I pulled up the Pack Registry on my tablet. The database was sacred, maintained by the Moon Goddess's appointed keepers. Every mating, every pairing, every recognition was recorded there.

I typed my name with steady fingers: Sylvia Patterson, architect, daughter of Alpha Marcus Patterson.

The screen loaded, and my heart stopped.

Status: Unmated.

"No," I breathed, scrolling frantically. "There has to be some mistake."

But there it was—or rather, wasn't. No record of my bond with Grey. No recognition from the Moon Goddess. Nothing.

Luna whimpered inside me, confused and hurt.

The door to my office burst open. Elena stood there, her normally composed features twisted with concern. In her hands, she clutched a stack of papers.

"I printed everything," she said quietly, crossing to my desk. "I thought... you should see it for yourself."

She laid the documents before me. Official Pack Registry forms, bearing the silver seal of the Moon Goddess. And there, in black and white, was the truth I couldn't deny.

"Maisy Lawrence," I read aloud, my voice hollow. "Marked and mated to Grey Hoffman of the Crescent Ridge Pack. Ceremony completed three days ago."

Three days ago. When Grey had told me he was attending a border meeting with neighboring packs.

"He never..." My voice cracked. "He never rejected our bond."

Elena's hand found mine across the desk. "The registry shows no record of your pairing ever being officially recognized, Sylvia."

Luna howled inside me, a sound of such raw anguish that I clutched my chest. The pain was physical—a tearing sensation as if something vital was being ripped away.

"He's been lying to me," I whispered, the truth crashing down like a collapsed building. "All this time."

I tried to stand, but my legs gave way. Elena caught me before I hit the floor, guiding me to the leather chair behind my desk.

"Breathe," she urged. "Just breathe."

But how could I breathe when my wolf was dying inside me? When everything I'd believed about my future, about my mate, about us—had been a lie?

"There's more," Elena said softly, hesitantly.

I looked up at her through tears I hadn't realized were falling. "What could possibly be worse?"

She placed another document on the desk—a client contract for Patterson & Associates.

"This came in yesterday. The commission for the Luna ceremony venue in Miami."

I stared at it uncomprehendingly until the name jumped out at me: Lawrence.

"Maisy Lawrence," I read, my voice flat. "She wants me to design her Luna ceremony venue."

Elena nodded grimly. "The ceremony is scheduled for next month. She specifically requested you, Sylvia. Said she admired your work."

A bitter laugh escaped me. "Of course she did."

Luna had gone quiet now, her earlier howls replaced by a dull, throbbing ache that matched the hollow feeling spreading through my chest.

I straightened in my chair, wiping away tears with the back of my hand. "I need to call my father."

"Sylvia—"

"And I need to review this contract." My voice sounded strange to my own ears—too calm, too controlled for someone whose world had just imploded.

As Elena watched with worried eyes, I reached for the contract with steady hands. Professional hands. The hands of an architect who had built her reputation on creating spaces of celebration and joy.

Even as my heart shattered into a thousand pieces, I would not give Maisy Lawrence the satisfaction of seeing me break.

Not in person. Not in my designs. Not ever.

But as I scanned the details of the ceremony venue she wanted me to create—to celebrate her mating to my supposed mate—I felt something inside me crack beyond repair.