Rejected Mate's Revenge

The laughter died abruptly as heavy footsteps echoed through the pack house. Beta Benson Powell emerged from the crowd, his broad frame cutting an imposing figure as he approached me with deliberate, predatory steps. His eyes held a gleam that made my wolf recoil in warning, but I was too broken, too bleeding, to heed her instincts.

"Well, well," Benson's voice boomed across the silent hall, each word dripping with false authority. "What do we have here? A disturbed she-wolf making wild accusations against our Beta."

I struggled to stand straighter, my legs shaking from blood loss and emotional devastation. "I'm not—this isn't about accusations. This is about the truth. Dylan is my mate, and—"

"Truth?" Benson circled me like a predator sizing up wounded prey. "The truth is that several valuable items have gone missing from our pack house recently. Silver jewelry, ceremonial pieces. And now we have an unstable she-wolf who somehow gained access to our private ceremonies."

The crowd murmured, their earlier amusement shifting to something darker. I felt their gazes like physical weight, judging, condemning. "What are you implying?" I whispered.

"I'm not implying anything." Benson's smile was cold, calculating. "I'm stating facts. As Beta of this pack, I have the authority to search suspected thieves. And you, Amaris Carr, are under suspicion of theft."

My blood ran cold. "You can't be serious. I've never stolen anything in my life."

"Empty your pockets," he commanded, his voice carrying the weight of pack law. "Remove your jacket. We'll see what you're hiding."

The pack members pressed closer, forming a tight circle around us. Their faces showed eager anticipation, as if they were about to witness some great entertainment. Dylan stood among them, his expression impassive, offering no protection, no intervention.

"Dylan," I pleaded, turning toward the man who should have been defending me. "Please, tell him this is insane. You know I would never—"

"Do as Beta Benson says," Dylan replied coldly. "If you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear."

With trembling hands, I pulled off my jacket, the movement sending fresh waves of pain through my cramping abdomen. Benson snatched it from me, making a show of checking every pocket while the crowd watched. When he found nothing, his expression darkened.

"Clever," he said. "But thieves are cunning. Strip search is necessary."

"What?" Horror flooded through me. "You can't—that's not legal. That's not pack law."

"I am pack law," Benson snarled, stepping closer until his breath hit my face. "And I say you're hiding stolen goods. Turn around."

When I didn't move, paralyzed by shock and fear, he grabbed my shoulders and spun me around roughly. His hands immediately began roaming over my body, ostensibly searching for hidden items but lingering in places that made my skin crawl.

"Stop," I gasped as his fingers dug into my ribs, pressing against areas still tender from the miscarriage. "Please, I'm injured. I need medical attention—"

"Shut up," he hissed in my ear, his hands moving lower, more invasive. "Thieves don't get to make demands."

His rough handling sent spikes of agony through my already traumatized body. I felt something tear inside me, a fresh gush of warmth between my legs as new bleeding started. The cramping returned with vengeance, doubling me over as I cried out in pain.

"She's bleeding!" someone in the crowd shouted, but it wasn't concern in their voice—it was excitement.

Benson's hands didn't stop their violation. If anything, my obvious distress seemed to encourage him. "Probably hiding something internally," he announced to the crowd. "These desperate types will do anything."

I collapsed to my knees as another wave of agony tore through me, blood pooling beneath me on the pack house floor. The crowd's jeers grew louder, their laughter more vicious. Someone started a slow clap that others picked up, as if my suffering was a performance for their entertainment.

"Look at her," Tiana's voice cut through the noise, sweet and venomous. "Putting on quite a show, isn't she? Probably faking it for sympathy."

I looked up at Dylan through tears of pain and betrayal, silently begging for even a shred of the man I'd loved. But his dark eyes held nothing but cold disdain.

"Thieves and liars deserve what they get," he said flatly, his words carrying across the suddenly quiet hall. "Actions have consequences."

The pack erupted in cheers and applause, their approval of my humiliation echoing off the walls as I bled and broke on their floor.