THE REJECTION

The dress was too tight.

Aria pulled at the neckline again. Still couldn't breathe right. The fabric was cream—some stupid color that was supposed to make her look pure or something. Marriageable. Delta Morris picked it because her father sure as hell didn't care what she wore.

"Stop messing with it." Morris didn't even look at her. "You'll make it obvious."

Obvious. Right. Because if she just stayed quiet and small, maybe no one would notice the freak in the corner.

The Blackwater gates were huge. Black iron twisted into claws, stone walls that looked like they'd been built to keep people out. Or keep them in. Guards everywhere, armed, watching. This place felt like a prison.

Aria wanted to turn around. Go home. Except home wasn't really home anymore, was it? Just another place where people looked through her instead of at her.

"Move." Morris shoved her forward hard enough that she stumbled.

The gates opened. Loud. Metal scraping metal.

Her wolf made a sound. Small. Pathetic. Barely there. Twenty-two years of the curse eating away at her piece by piece, and this was what was left. A ghost of a wolf. Most days Aria couldn't even feel her anymore.

Inside the courtyard, there were wolves everywhere. Hundreds. Every pack for miles, all crammed together for one night. The Grand Mating Ceremony. Find your fated mate or go home alone. The air was thick—perfume and sweat and too many people trying too hard.

Aria made herself smaller. Head down. Shoulders in. Don't look at anyone. Don't talk. Don't breathe too loud.

"Stay on the edge," Morris said. "Don't talk unless someone talks to you. And don't let anyone see your shoulder."

She nodded. He was already walking away.

Good. At least she didn't have to pretend he wanted to be near her.

The ceremony hall was in front of her. Stone and moss and old bloodstains that had soaked in too deep to ever wash out. Music came from inside. Laughter. People having fun. People who fit.

Aria touched the mark on her shoulder through the dress. Burning. Always burning.

Please. Just let him be decent. Let someone want me.

She walked up the steps. Went inside.

The place was massive. Ceiling so high she couldn't see the top. Torches on the walls making everything flicker. A band in the corner—drums, something rhythmic and too loud. Wolves dancing. Drinking. Showing off for each other. The girls wore colors that made them look confident. The guys wore leather or suits, all of them looking like they knew exactly what they were worth.

Aria found a pillar in the corner and put her back against it. Invisible. That was the plan. Stay invisible until it was time to leave.

The music stopped.

Everyone stopped talking.

The room got colder.

He was here.

Alpha Thorne Blackwater.

Aria couldn't see him yet. Too many people in the way. But she felt it. Felt him. Like the air got heavier. Like gravity changed direction.

People moved. Made space. The crowd split down the middle without anyone telling them to.

And there he was.

Oh god.

He looked like he could kill someone with his bare hands and not lose sleep over it. Tall—taller than anyone else. Black hair. A suit that probably cost a year's salary. But his eyes. Silver. Sharp. Cold enough to make her shiver from across the room.

That scar on his face—temple to jaw—everyone knew the story. He'd killed his own father to become Alpha. Ripped his throat out in front of the pack.

He walked through the hall like he owned it. Because he did. His Beta followed behind him, almost as big, twice as mean-looking. Advisors on either side like bodyguards.

Wolves bowed when he passed. Got out of his way. Submitted without him even asking.

Aria told herself to look away. Alphas like that didn't look at girls like her. But she couldn't stop watching. Couldn't stop staring at the way he moved, the way he looked at his wolves like he was deciding who was useful and who wasn't.

He stopped in the center. Said something to his Beta. Reached for wine.

Then he turned his head.

His eyes swept the room.

Landed on her.

Everything stopped.

The bond slammed into her—heat in her chest, spreading fast, burning through her veins. Her wolf woke up. Actually woke up for the first time in years. Started screaming. Mate. Mate. MATE.

Aria gasped. Her hand went to her chest. She couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Just stared at him while her whole body lit up like she'd been set on fire.

His wine glass shattered in his hand.

He went rigid. Completely still. His eyes—god, his eyes changed. Silver to gold. Pupils blown wide. His chest heaved like he'd been running. His hands clenched into fists.

The way he looked at her. Hungry. Intense. Like he wanted to cross the room and—

Mate.

For maybe five seconds, Aria thought it was real. Thought the Moon Goddess actually gave a damn. Thought this perfect, terrifying, powerful man was actually hers.

Someone coughed.

An old man in robes stepped forward. Elder Marius. Head of the Council. Aria's stomach dropped.

No. Not now. Please not now.

"Alpha Thorne," the Elder said. Voice carrying. Everyone listening. "Before you do something you'll regret, you should know something about that girl."

Thorne didn't look away from her. "It can wait."

"She's cursed."

The hall went silent.

Aria watched his face change. Saw the exact moment he looked at her differently.

"Aria Nightshade," Elder Marius kept going. Louder now. Making sure everyone heard. "Daughter of the Nightshade Pack. Born under a blood moon. Marked with the Moonveil Curse." He pulled out a scroll. Ancient-looking. Official. "According to the texts, any pack whose Luna carries this curse will be destroyed. She's poison, Alpha. She'll rot your pack from the inside."

Whispers started. Spreading like wildfire. Wolves backed away from her. Staring. Disgusted.

But Aria didn't care about them.

She only cared about him.

Thorne was looking at her like she was a problem. The hunger was gone. Just cold calculation. His advisors were talking in his ear. His Beta grabbed his arm, shaking his head hard.

Aria took a step forward. Her hand reached out. Shaking.

"Please," she whispered. Her voice cracked. "Please don't—"

"I, Alpha Thorne Blackwater, reject you, Aria Nightshade, as my mate and Luna."

The bond broke.

Aria screamed.

It felt like dying. Like every part of her was tearing apart at once. Fire in her veins. Glass in her chest. Her wolf howled—so loud inside her head she thought it would split open.

Then nothing.

Silence.

Her wolf was gone.

Actually gone.

Aria hit the floor. Hard. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't see. Blood came out of her nose. She was shaking so hard her teeth rattled.

She looked up at him through the pain.

He was just standing there. Watching. Face blank. Eyes empty.

Like it didn't hurt him at all.

Like breaking her meant nothing.

He didn't move. Didn't help. Didn't even flinch.

Just watched her fall apart on his floor.

"Get her out," he said. Flat. Bored. "Put her in a cell until her pack picks her up."

Hands grabbed her arms. Dragged her. She couldn't fight. Couldn't do anything except shake and bleed and try not to throw up.

The last thing she saw was Thorne turning away.

Already done with her.

Like she'd never existed.

The cell was tiny. Stone. Silver bars. Dark. Smelled like old blood and piss.

They'd thrown her on the floor. She hadn't moved. Just lay there staring at nothing.

The pain was different now. Dull. Constant. Like her body gave up trying to fix what couldn't be fixed.

Her wolf was gone. Really gone. Just empty space where she used to be.

Rejected.

The word kept repeating. Rejected. By her mate. In front of everyone. Because she was born wrong.

Footsteps outside.

Aria didn't move. Didn't care.

They stopped by her cell. Voices. Low. Conspiratorial.

"can't keep her alive." Elder Marius. "The curse is too dangerous. She could"

"Execute her at dawn." A woman. Older. "Make it look like an escape attempt."

"Her pack won't care. They've wanted rid of her for years."

Laughter. Cold. Footsteps walking away.

Aria stared at the ceiling.

They were going to kill her.

At dawn.

She should be scared. Should be crying or begging. But she just felt empty. Hollow. Like the rejection burned out everything that made her human.

Maybe they were right. Maybe the world was better off without her.

Her fingers touched the mark on her shoulder.

It was burning. Hotter than ever. Like something underneath was moving. Waking up.

In the dark, Aria made a choice.

She wasn't waiting for dawn.

Wasn't letting them kill her like an animal.

If she died, it would be her choice.

She stood. Legs shaking. Body screaming. Walked to the window near the ceiling. Too high. Too small. Silver bars she couldn't touch without burning.

She jumped anyway. Grabbed the edge. Pulled herself up.

The bars. She had to break the bars.

Aria wrapped her hands around them.

Her skin sizzled. Smoke. The smell of burning flesh. Pain so sharp she saw stars.

She pulled anyway.

The bars bent.

That wasn't possible. Silver was supposed to hold wolves. But something in her was stronger.

The mark burned hotter.

The bars snapped.

Aria shoved herself through the window. Left skin behind. Dropped into the night. Landed wrong. Didn't care.

Alarms went off behind her.

She ran.

Thorne stood at his office window and watched the chaos below. Guards running. His Beta shouting orders.

His wolf was losing its mind inside him.

Wrong. Wrong. Go back. Get her. MATE.

Thorne shoved it down. Locked it away. He'd made the right call. For the pack. For his position. The curse would've destroyed everything.

But watching her run into the forest—small and broken and alone—something twisted in his chest.

Something that hurt.

He ignored it.

Turned away from the window.

And told himself he'd done the right thing.