All Chapters of Rejected for being human : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Serena’s POV It was early morning, but the Moonclaw mansion was already wide awake. The maids had been cleaning and running around since before sunrise. Every glass surface had been wiped, every tile polished until it shone. My mother, Hema, moved like a storm through the kitchen and halls, barking orders, straightening uniforms, fixing hair. “The Alpha is returning today,” she kept saying. “And no one embarrasses this house.” I stayed quiet and did as I was told. I’d grown up in this house. My mother had worked here for more than twenty years, and now I did too—just another human in a werewolf world. But this day felt different. Alpha Kael—son of the former Alpha, rightful heir to the Moonclaw Pack—was finally coming home. Raised in the north for his safety after a rogue attack, he’d lived far from here, trained by warriors, educated by elders, and kept hidden from those who wanted him dead. Now, fully grown, powerful, and officially crowned Alpha, he was coming bac

Serena The moment I stepped into the servant quarters and shut the door, I finally let go. The tears came before I even made it to the bed. I sat on the edge, hands over my face, trying to quiet the sobs as they broke through my throat. There was no one around to hear me—not yet. The other maids were still on their rounds or working in the east wing. For once, the tiny room I shared with my mother was empty, and the silence only made my thoughts louder. He didn’t even let me speak. He didn’t ask. He didn’t give me a chance. He just… yelled. I had knocked over a watch. A mistake, yes. But I didn’t break it. I apologized. I tried. I was careful. But none of that mattered. Not to him. I clutched my apron tightly, my chest burning. Why did it hurt this much? He wasn’t supposed to be kind. He wasn’t supposed to care. But some foolish, broken part of me had hoped that maybe… just maybe… beneath all that cold, there’d be a flicker of understanding. A sign that I wa

Serena Two weeks had passed. Two long, careful weeks since I stood outside Alpha Kael’s chambers and apologized with shaking hands and a bowed head. He’d let me go that night. No yelling. No punishment. No exile. But that silence came with its own kind of power. I hadn’t spoken to him since. I hadn’t seen him up close either. The day after my apology, I was reassigned to the laundry halls. No more trips to the Alpha’s wing. No more early morning cleaning of his floors. No more being sent to his personal chambers to arrange his folded shirts or check the towels twice over. I wasn’t officially punished. But I was kept away. Far away. And I accepted that. Gratefully. I no longer had to hold my breath every time I stepped into a hallway. No longer had to flinch when I dropped a spoon or spilled a drop of water on polished wood. I went back to folding sheets, sweeping the west wing corridors, assisting in the clinic when needed. It was quieter work. Safe work.

Serena’s pov I woke up in silk. The first thing I saw was the ceiling tall, arched, endless. A massive crystal chandelier hung from its center like a frozen storm, delicate light fragments dancing across the pale walls. Everything was too quiet. Too still. The air smelled like faint cologne, expensive and dark. It took a second for it to hit me. This wasn’t my room. I blinked, the ache in my lower back reminding me I wasn’t dreaming. The sheets were tangled around me, warm and soft and clinging to bare skin. My bare skin. My breath caught. I turned slowly, heart hammering. Kael lay a few feet away, on the far side of the bed, one arm bent behind his head, his chest rising and falling in deep, even breaths. He was still asleep, the pale morning light from the glass balcony casting shadows across his sculpted torso and collarbone. He looked calm. Peaceful. Not at all like the man who’d pressed me into this mattress hours ago with fire in his eyes a

Serena – POV “Serena, are you sure you’re okay? Did the doctor really say it’s just stress?” My mother’s voice met me the moment I pushed open the door to our quarters. It wasn’t loud or angry—just laced with a quiet suspicion that clung to the air like fog. I had barely stepped inside. My hand still clutched the paper bag of vitamins and prescriptions that felt heavier than it should have. I hadn’t taken a single thing out. Couldn’t even look at it. Ma stood in the center of the small living space, arms folded tightly across her chest, like she was holding herself back from shaking me. Her eyes roamed over my face, searching—digging—for something I was too scared to reveal. I blinked. Swallowed. “Yes,” I lied. “Just stress. She said I need rest.” The words felt like cotton in my mouth. Her eyes narrowed slightly, and for a second, I thought she’d let it go. “Just stress?” she echoed, slowly, as if tasting the words. “That’s all?” I nodded. Too quickly