Sold After Rejection to the Ruthless Lycan King

Elara POV I did not sleep. Not even for a moment. Every time my eyes closed, the night tore itself open again.The moon was blazing white above the stone circle. The pack gathered shoulder to shoulder, silent, watching.Darius was looking straight at me… like I was nothing.And his voice.I do not.He had said it so easily, like he was refusing a drink. Not a bond. Not a future. Not me.The memory replayed until it felt carved into my skull. The instant the bond snapped. It had not been loud. Not dramatic. Just sudden. Brutal. Final.Something sacred ripped out of my chest, leaving raw space behind.The bond was gone, but the pain stayed. It throbbed beneath my ribs like a wound that refused to close. Every breath scraped. Every heartbeat whispered the same terrible truth.You were never chosen.I lay on the narrow stone bed in the holding room, staring up at the ceiling while darkness slowly thinned into gray. Dawn slipped through the high barred window in weak strands, as if even th

Elara POVThe room was not a prison. That thought hit me harder than chains ever had. No bars. No iron rings in the stone. No guards waiting with weapons. Just wide, dark stone walls that felt… old, ancient, almost patient. The windows were tall, letting pale mountain light spill across the floor. Heavy curtains hung open, as if no one expected me to hide. Nothing blocked me. Nothing contained me.A large bed rested against the far wall. Made and firm, practical rather than soft. Nearby, a table held food. Fresh bread, sliced fruit, a bowl of stew still steaming faintly, a jug of water. Everything neat. Everything deliberate. I realized then: this wasn’t kindness. It was control. Shaped to look like courtesy.I stood in the center of the room, uncertain where to place myself. My wrists still throbbed faintly from the chains, thin red marks stubborn against fading. Proof I had been delivered here. Not welcomed. I pressed my fingers against the stone floor to ground myself. Freedom could

Elara POVI woke to silence. Not peaceful silence. Wrong silence. Empty. Like the world had stepped away and left me behind.For a long moment, I didn’t move. I barely breathed. I stared at the ceiling, my thoughts slow, tangled. Dark stone. Smooth. Cold. Faint symbols shimmered along the surface, curling like they were alive. They pulsed softly, in rhythm with my breath, watching me. I had never seen markings like this before.The air smelled sharp, clean crushed herbs, fresh water, and something bitter that burned faintly in my nose, like smoke after lightning. I tried to sit up. Pain exploded through my chest and arms, sudden, cruel, merciless. A broken sound tore from my throat as my muscles locked, betraying me.“Don’t,” a calm voice said. “You’ll make it worse.”I turned my head slowly. A woman stood beside a long stone table lined with folded cloths, shallow bowls, and small glass vials filled with dark liquids. Her dark hair, streaked with silver, was pulled back tightly. She m

Elara POVThe Lycan court did not rise when Alpha Darius Blackmoor entered. That alone told me everything. In Silverclaw, his arrival would have demanded respect. Heads would bow. Voices would soften. Wolves would step aside without question. Here… nothing. Not a flicker. Not a gesture. Silence.Darius walked through the doors with the same confident stride I remembered, broad shoulders, dark hair pulled back neatly, presence honed and deliberate. His armor was deep charcoal, polished so it gleamed under the Blood Moon’s light, the Blackmoor sigil bold across his chest. Once, that sight would have made my heart race. Tonight, it made my chest ache.The air shifted the moment he crossed the threshold. Murmurs rippled quietly through the hall. “That’s him.” “The Alpha who rejected the Moon’s bond.” “He chose another omega.”Darius ignored them. Always had. His eyes swept the court and then froze on me. For the first time since the night he broke me, I saw it, hesitation. A brief falter.

Elara POVI did not walk out of the great hall. I ran.The doors slammed shut behind me with a heavy echo that seemed to chase me down the corridor. Only when the sound faded did my legs begin to shake. I caught the wall before I could fall, my palm pressing hard against the cold stone as I dragged in a breath that refused to settle.The court noise vanished. No whispers. No Alphas. No watching eyes.Just my heartbeat. Too fast. Too loud.My wrist burned. Not like a wound. Not like something healing. Alive.I pressed my fingers over the mark as if I could quiet it through force alone. Heat pulsed beneath my skin in slow waves, spreading up my arm and curling into my chest. It felt almost deliberate, like something inside me was learning the rhythm of my body.Breathe, Elara… just breathe.The air tasted sharp when I inhaled.And beneath the stone and smoke of the stronghold, another scent lingered.Pine. Frost. Night air before a storm.Kael.My stomach tightened. Why does his mark fee