Rejected & Rising

Beta Harris's office smelled like leather and old wood—the kind of scent that was supposed to command respect. I sat across from his massive desk, my forearm still bandaged from the silver burn, and waited for him to finish reading whatever document held his attention.

He finally looked up, his expression carved from stone.

"Madison Taylor." He said my name like it was evidence of a crime. "Do you understand the position you've put this pack in?"

My thumb pressed against my fingers beneath the table. "I was rejected by my fated mate. I didn't put anyone in any position."

"You made a scene." Beta Harris leaned forward, his Beta aura unfurling just enough to make my wolf—already so damaged, so quiet—curl tighter inside me. "You challenged a future Alpha. You disrespected the Coleman family in front of witnesses from multiple packs."

"He stole from me. He threw a knife—"

"Enough." The command in his voice made my jaw snap shut. "The Riverside Pack has maintained peaceful relations with Shadowcrest for decades. We are not the powerful pack, Madison. We survive through diplomacy, through knowing our place in the hierarchy. And you—an Omega—have jeopardized that."

The words landed like blows. My own pack. My own Beta advisor, who was supposed to protect pack members, was telling me I'd brought this on myself.

"What should I have done?" My voice came out quieter than I intended. "Just accepted it?"

"Yes." Beta Harris straightened papers on his desk, not meeting my eyes. "You should have accepted your place. Omegas who reach above their station create problems for everyone. If you continue making complaints about the Coleman family, there will be consequences for your standing here. Do I make myself clear?"

I stood, my legs unsteady. "Perfectly clear."

He dismissed me with a wave, already returning to his papers as if I'd never mattered at all.

I walked out of his office and through the pack house hallways, past wolves who wouldn't meet my gaze. The rejection bond still ached in my chest—a phantom wound that wouldn't heal. My wolf's presence had become so faint I sometimes wondered if she'd disappeared entirely.

Even my own pack had chosen convenience over justice.

---

Elsie was folding laundry when I got back to our apartment. She glanced up as I entered, then quickly looked away.

"Hey," I said.

She mumbled something that might have been a greeting and focused intently on matching socks.

I'd tried this three times since the rejection. Three times, Elsie had found excuses to leave rooms I entered, to cut conversations short, to be anywhere I wasn't.

"Elsie." I stayed in the doorway. "Can we talk?"

"I'm busy."

"You're folding socks."

Her hands stilled. For a moment I thought she might turn around, might remember the nights we'd stayed up comparing dreams and fears, might remember we'd promised to face pack hierarchy together.

Instead, she picked up her laundry basket. "I have to go."

She brushed past me, and I caught her arm. "Please. I know this is hard, but I need—"

"You need?" Elsie finally met my eyes, and what I saw there made my stomach drop. Fear. Disgust. Pity. "Madison, I can't be seen with you anymore. An Omega rejected by an Alpha? That shame is contagious. I have to think about my own future."

She pulled away and headed for the door.

"I thought we were friends," I said to her retreating back.

Elsie paused at the threshold. "We were. But I'm not strong like you. I can't afford to be."

The door closed, and I was alone.

My wolf stirred weakly in my consciousness. *Everyone leaves,* she whispered. *Everyone chooses safety over us.*

I sank onto the couch and stared at nothing. The pack hierarchy hadn't just turned my enemies against me—it had turned even the oppressed into weapons.

---

The mandatory joint pack run came too soon.

I considered skipping, but that would give Beta Harris another reason to lecture me about pack obligations. So I shifted into my wolf form—smaller than most, grey-brown and unremarkable—and joined the gathering at the neutral territory boundary.

Dozens of wolves milled about, their coats gleaming under the afternoon sun. Shadowcrest wolves dominated the space with their size and confidence. I stayed at the edges, trying to be invisible.

Then I caught her scent: jasmine and ambition. Cataleya Richardson.

Her auburn wolf was impossible to miss, sleek and powerful, moving through the crowd like she owned it. Her amber eyes found me, and her lips—yes, lips; she shifted to human form right there—curved into a smile that made my stomach turn.

"Well, well." Cataleya's voice carried across the suddenly quiet gathering. "Look who decided to show her face."

I stayed in wolf form, my head low, hoping she'd lose interest.

She walked toward me, and I felt it—her Beta aura unfurling like a net. It pressed down on my wolf, forcing my legs to buckle, forcing my belly toward the ground. I fought it, but I was already so weak, so broken from the rejection.

Cataleya pulled cash from her pocket—crumpled bills that she threw at my paws. They scattered across the dirt and grass, and wolves from multiple packs watched in silence.

"Here, Omega." Her voice rang out clear and cruel. "This is what you're worth—scraps from your betters. Maybe next time you'll know your place before trying to trap an Alpha with your pathetic fated bond."

Laughter rippled through the high-ranking wolves. My wolf whimpered, pressed flat against the ground, unable to move under the weight of Cataleya's aura. The bills fluttered in the breeze, mocking me.

No one intervened. Not my packmates. Not the Riverside Beta who stood thirty feet away, pretending not to see.

Cataleya shifted back to wolf form and trotted away, her tail high, victorious.

And I lay there in the dirt with money scattered at my paws, understanding with perfect clarity that I was truly alone.