Painful rejection

"I reject you, Lyra."

The words struck her like a physical blow, stealing the air from her lungs. Lyra stood frozen among the ceremonial flowers and twinkling lights that were meant to celebrate their union, not witness its destruction.

"What?" she whispered, her voice barely audible above the sudden murmurs of the pack gathered around them. The ornate mating ceremony arch above them now felt like a mockery. "What do you mean?"

"I reject you," Bruno repeated, his voice carrying across the hushed clearing. "We are no longer mates. We can never be mates." The warmth that had always softened his green eyes whenever he looked at her was gone, replaced by a glacial indifference that chilled her to the bone.

"No. No." Lyra shook her head vigorously, her carefully arranged hair coming loose, dark strands falling across her tear-stained face. She reached for him, clutching at the ceremonial jacket he wore. "This can't happen. You promised to protect me, to be by my side, to love me." Her voice rose with each word, desperation clawing at her throat. "Please, don't do this to me. You can't."

"Stay away from me, traitor." Bruno roughly shoved her away, sending her stumbling backward. The force of it sent her silver necklace—the one he had gifted her before the ceremony—flying from her neck.

"No!" Lyra cried out, falling to her knees, the white dress she had spent weeks selecting now soiled with dirt. "I am not a traitor!"

"You have the blood of one," Bruno spat, hatred transforming his once handsome features into something unrecognizable. The man who had whispered promises against her skin just last night was gone, replaced by a stranger wearing his face.

"I don't understand," Lyra sobbed, the confusion cutting through her like a blade. The bond between them, once so strong and vibrant, now frayed and weakening by the second.

Luna Delilah, Bruno's mother, stepped forward from where she had been watching with barely concealed satisfaction. "Stop playing dumb with us." Her voice was sharp as flint. "You snuck into our pack house under the pretence of a meek servant, only to seduce my son and finish what your parents started. Isn't that right?"

"No, my parents are long dead. I don't know what you're talking about." Lyra clutched at her chest, feeling the mating bond beginning to tear—a pain more excruciating than any physical wound.

"Liar!" Bruno growled, his wolf pushing close to the surface. "You are the daughter of traitors. If the allegations are false, why would Freya lie against you?"

"What? Freya?" Lyra turned to stare at her cousin, who stood a few feet away, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips. 

"Freya, dear," the Luna beckoned, her voice honey-sweet with malice. "Repeat what you told us earlier."

Freya stepped forward, her burgundy dress catching the light in a way that made it look like she was bathed in blood. "Your parents, Lyra, were traitors. That's the truth. Years ago, they planned a coup. They intended to kill Alpha Luke and overthrow his reign. They were unsuccessful, thank the Moon Goddess."

"No, that's not true. They were killed in a rogue attack." Lyra's mind raced, trying to reconcile this new information with the memories of her kind, gentle parents. Memories her four-year-old self could remember. 

"Oh darling," Freya cooed, twirling a strand of her golden hair. "That was what my dear parents—bless their hearts—told you to protect you from the stigma of being the daughter of traitors. But I couldn't let you deceive Bruno. Not when I've loved him for so long."

The pieces fell into place with horrible clarity. Freya's sudden quietness, her whispered conversations with the Luna.

"All I know is that you have no place in this house, this pack, or my life," Bruno hissed, turning his back to her. "Please leave."

"No, you can't do this!" Desperation drove Lyra forward. She crawled on all fours until she reached him, clutching at his leg. The physical contact sent pain lancing through her as the bond continued to fracture. "I'm not like my parents. I won't betray you, I promise."

Bruno took a deep breath but remained silent. Around them, pack members who had come to celebrate the mating ceremony of their Alpha’s son now watched the spectacle with varying degrees of shock and cruel amusement. Freya, not content with her victory, took out her phone to record Lyra's humiliation.

"I can even take a blood oath if you wish. Just don't leave me, I beg you." Lyra's wails tore from her heart, raw and primal. The more she felt their connection wane, the louder her cries became.

After what felt like an eternity, Bruno finally turned and lowered himself to one knee to meet her gaze. He reached out to gently cup her cheek, and for one breathless moment, hope fluttered in Lyra's chest. Then he smiled—a sad, pitying smile that crushed that fragile hope beneath its weight.

"I reject you, Lyra Stone," he said, his voice steady and final. "You are not fit for me, and you never will be."  With that, he shoved her roughly, sending her sprawling onto the ground again.

The pack erupted in laughter. The fairy lights strung throughout the trees for their ceremony now illuminated her shame. The white dress that had made her feel like a princess was torn and stained. Her future, once so bright with promise, now stretched before her, bleak and empty.

How could everything change so quickly? One moment, she had been walking toward Bruno under the archway of moon lilies, her heart full of love and hope. The next, she was being cast out like garbage. What had Freya whispered to him in those brief moments before the ceremony? How could the Moon Goddess be so cruel as to give her a mate only to take him away?

Why was sorrow her only constant companion? Why could she never find lasting love or acceptance? Why, why, why?

"Silence!" Alpha Luke's voice boomed across the clearing, instantly quelling the mocking laughter. Even Freya had the sense to put her phone away under the Alpha's stern gaze. "For your deception and the betrayal committed by your bloodline, you are hereby banished and declared a rogue, Lyra Stone. You have seventy-two hours to leave my territory. Should you remain beyond that time, you will be torn to shreds." His imposing figure loomed over Lyra, who could only respond with a hollow, broken laugh.

Turning to the servants who stood awkwardly at the edges of the gathering, he barked, "Clear away these decorations. Pack that woman's belongings and remove her from the packhouse immediately. No one is to mention this night or her name ever again." His gaze swept across the assembled wolves. "Return to your homes. The show is over."

"Yes, Alpha," came the collective response as wolves and servants scrambled to follow his commands.

The pack slowly dispersed, each member giving Lyra one final look of disgust or mockery before departing. Bruno retreated without so much as a glance at the woman he had promised forever to, just a few days ago. The Luna paused only to spit at Lyra's feet, a final insult to the girl she had pretended to welcome as a daughter. Freya, triumphant, latched herself to Bruno's side, her hand possessively clutching his arm as they walked away.

Within minutes, Lyra's meagre possessions came flying from the balcony of the packhouse, hastily stuffed into a suitcase that wasn't properly zipped. The box narrowly missed her already bruised body, spilling its contents across the dirt. Now branded a rogue, she was stigmatized. Even the omegas, the lowest-ranking pack members, gave her a wide berth as they hurried to clear away the remnants of what should have been the happiest day of her life.

As she returned to her uncle’s house in shame, Lyra reminisced on the events that had led her to this point.