All Chapters of Rejected then Claimed by the Alpha: Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

Serena Everything has an end and this is how ours looked like That morning came without sound. The light was soft through the curtains, and for the first time in weeks, I woke without fear of what waited outside the door. Downstairs, I heard movement quiet, purposeful. The servants were packing under Kael’s orders, folding what mattered and leaving what didn’t. They didn’t speak to one another, only moved in and out of rooms carrying boxes and suitcases. I followed the sound until I reached the hall. Kael was standing by the staircase, sleeves rolled, watching the work like a man making peace with ghosts. His face was calm, but his eyes had that look again—the one he wore when he’d already decided something and wouldn’t be moved from it. “Everything’s being packed,” he said when he noticed me. “Only the essentials.” “And the servants?” “They’ll stay. I told them they’re free to choose new masters once we’re gone.” I nodded and leaned against the railing. “It feels stra

Ari’s POV The heat came early that day, sitting heavy on everything like a dare. By noon the island looked dipped in light—roads shining, roofs glinting, waves rolling slow and lazy against the pier. I wasn’t supposed to be out again. Father had a list of things to fix on the boats, and Mother said the market would be full of tourists. But I’d already started walking before the excuses could line up. I told myself it was habit, that I liked watching people, that the cliffs pulled me out of the house. Lies travel better when you’ve said them before. Halfway down the hill I spotted the hat first. She was sitting on the wall near the market road, sketchbook open, sunlight pressing down on her shoulders until her skin looked too soft for this place. The smell of roasted fruit and oil carried through the air, but beneath it faint, impossible her scent found me. It wasn’t perfume. It was something sharper, cleaner. Like rain over stone. My pulse tripped. I slowed. The wolf und

Ari I couldn’t sleep. The house was quiet, but my mind wouldn’t stop moving. I lay there staring at the ceiling, listening to the faint tick of the clock and the waves hitting the rocks far below the hill. It felt like something inside me was moving in the opposite direction, restless under my ribs. I threw the blanket off, swung my legs to the floor, and stood. The moon was bright through the window, clean and heavy. It made the walls glow faint silver, and for some reason that light made me ache. I pulled on a shirt, left it unbuttoned, and stepped outside. The air was cool enough to sting. The sand under my feet was soft, cold, alive. I started walking without a plan—just following the sound of the water until the movement turned into running. My breath fell into rhythm, slow and deep. Each step pulled the tension higher. I ran harder. The tide was out, leaving a wide strip of wet sand that caught the moon like a mirror. I ran until the stretch of beach curved and the world

Ari’s POV The mark on my hand wouldn’t stop throbbing. I tried to work through it. Fixed the nets, carried tools to the shed, helped my sister chase chickens that weren’t even ours. Nothing worked. The pain pulsed like a heartbeat that wasn’t mine. By noon, I gave up. I walked fast toward the cliffs, fists jammed in my pockets. The path curved along the edge of the sea, sun bouncing off the water so bright it felt like walking through glass. Every step pulled me harder. She was there. Same spot as before. Rhea sat on a flat rock, sketchbook open, the wind catching loose strands of her hair. She didn’t look up at first, but I saw her shoulders tense she knew I was coming. When I stopped a few feet away, she sighed and turned slowly. “You really don’t get tired of this, do you?” “Of what?” “Following me.” “I wasn’t.” “Sure.” She shut her sketchbook with a soft snap. “Let me guess, you just happened to be walking the only empty cliff on the island?” “I could s

Ari’s POV Rhea didn’t come by the cliffs the next day. I told myself she was hiding, that it was smart, but my chest stayed tight all morning. The burn on my palm had faded into a faint scar, a pale mark that still hummed when I thought about her voice. By the time I reached the market road, the sun had climbed high enough to turn the boards of the pier almost white. Fishermen shouted, gulls dove, the world moved as if nothing dangerous had ever touched it. But I could feel it the change, the tension. Then I saw her. Rhea stood near the far end of the dock, her back to the sea, sketchbook clutched tight. She wasn’t alone. The man from last night was there again, coat gone now, sleeves rolled up, flanked by two others. One held her wrist; the other blocked her path. Everything inside me went still. The wolf didn’t ask permission. It just rose—quiet, controlled, ready. I walked fast, the boards groaning under my steps. “Let her go.” The man in the center turned. His