Rejected Mate's Justice

The mind-link came at dawn, slicing through my consciousness like silver lightning.

*Princess.* The voice was formal, ancient, carrying the weight of centuries. *It is time.*

I bolted upright in my narrow cot, heart hammering against my ribs. The voice belonged to Thomas—Beta Thomas, my father's most trusted advisor. A werewolf I hadn't spoken to since I was a child, when he'd knelt before me in the royal chambers and sworn an oath to protect the Lycan bloodline.

*Thomas?* I reached back through the mind-link, my mental voice trembling with disbelief.

*I am at your borders, Princess. The King has sent me with what you need to claim your birthright. Meet me at the old oak grove—alone.*

The connection severed, leaving me gasping in the pre-dawn darkness. Lyra stirred in my mind, her silver presence stronger than it had been in days.

*Finally,* she whispered, and I felt her satisfaction like warm honey in my veins. *The time for hiding is over.*

I dressed quickly in the simple clothes I'd worn to the archives—dark jeans and a plain sweater that wouldn't draw attention. The pack house was silent as I slipped through the corridors, my enhanced senses alert for any sign of Carson or his patrol wolves. The irony wasn't lost on me that I was sneaking through what should have been my own territory, but soon that would change.

The old oak grove lay at the eastern border of pack lands, a sacred space where ancient ceremonies had once been held. As I approached through the morning mist, I saw him—Thomas, exactly as I remembered from my childhood, though silver now streaked his dark hair. His wolf's scent reached me first: pine and steel, authority and unwavering loyalty.

He turned as I emerged from the treeline, and immediately dropped to one knee.

"Princess Elena," he said, his voice carrying the same formal respect I remembered. "You have grown strong."

"Rise, Thomas." The words came naturally, along with a tone of command I didn't know I possessed. "What has my father sent?"

Thomas stood and withdrew a leather pouch from his coat. Inside lay items that made my breath catch—the royal seal of the Lycan King, ancient documents written in the old script, and a silver pendant bearing the moon crest of our bloodline.

"The proof of your heritage," Thomas said, his weathered hands steady as he held out the pendant. "And the legal documents establishing your right to claim leadership of any pack under Lycan law. Your father believes it is time you stopped hiding who you are."

I took the pendant, feeling its weight settle against my palm like destiny itself. The silver was warm, pulsing with power that resonated through my bones. "Carson will fight this."

"Let him try." Thomas's smile was sharp as a blade. "Ancient law supersedes pack politics, Princess. You are daughter of the Lycan King. No Alpha can stand against that authority."

We spent the next hour planning—when to make the announcement, how to present the documentation, which pack laws to invoke. Thomas's strategic mind was as sharp as ever, and I found myself falling into the role of leader as naturally as breathing.

"The full moon gathering is in three days," I said, studying the legal documents. "That's when I'll make my claim. Public, witnessed, undeniable."

"And if Carson attempts to suppress you before then?"

I thought of Johnathan Dixon's file, still hidden in my quarters. Of Bridget's smug face and Carson's cold betrayal. Of every pack member who deserved better than a corrupt Alpha who covered up murder.

"Then he'll learn what happens when you cross a Lycan Princess."

---

Returning to the archives felt different now. The dusty shelves and yellowed papers were no longer my prison—they were my arsenal. I moved through the restricted files with new purpose, no longer the broken, rejected mate but a royal investigator gathering evidence.

Johnathan's file was just the beginning. I pulled records from the months surrounding his death, cross-referencing treatment protocols with supply orders, medication logs with patient outcomes. The pattern that emerged made my blood run cold.

Three other suspicious deaths. All warriors. All treated by Bridget during her "training period" before she'd gained official status. All written off as unavoidable complications.

My hands shook as I documented each discrepancy, each impossible coincidence. This wasn't just about covering up one mistake—this was systematic. Bridget wasn't just incompetent; she was dangerous. And Carson had protected her every step of the way.

"What are you doing?"

I spun around to find Tomas George standing in the doorway, his spectacles reflecting the afternoon light filtering through the archives' small windows. His weathered face was set in disapproving lines, and I could smell the suspicion rolling off him in waves.

"Research," I said simply, not bothering to hide the restricted files spread across the table.

Tomas stepped closer, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scattered documents. "Those are classified healing records. You have no authority to—"

"Don't I?" I rose to my full height, letting just a hint of my royal aura seep into the air around me. The change was immediate—Tomas's words died in his throat, his wolf recognizing something in mine that made him step back instinctively.

"I've spent my life preserving truth in these archives," I continued, my voice carrying an authority that surprised even me. "Truth matters more than protecting comfortable lies, doesn't it, Tomas?"

The old archivist stared at me for a long moment, his hand unconsciously moving to clean his spectacles—a nervous habit I'd noticed during my days here. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, uncertain.

"Johnathan Dixon was a good man," he said finally. "His death... there were things that didn't add up. Questions I wanted to ask but..."

"But you were afraid of Carson's retribution."

Tomas nodded slowly, his shoulders sagging. "I've seen what happens to wolves who cross the Alpha. But you... there's something different about you. Something that wasn't there before."

I smiled, feeling Lyra's silver fire burning brighter in my chest. "There is. And soon, everyone will see it."