All Chapters of Rejected, Not Broken : Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

AVERYBig decisions made under watchful eyes had a way of turning into performances.This one needed quiet. Space. Honesty I didn’t have to filter.So I walked.Ember was bundled close against my chest, warm and solid, her small breaths syncing with mine as I followed the upper path overlooking Emberfall. From here, the pack’s rhythm was clear. Patrols shifting. Wolves training in pairs. Others carrying supplies or sitting in the sun, voices low and unguarded.This was what I was responsible for now.Not symbolically.Practically.Lila stirred, attentive but calm.‘You’re circling,’ she said.‘I’m thinking,’ I replied.‘About Stoneveil.’‘And us,’ I added.She hummed softly. ‘That’s the same thing now.’I stopped at the overlook, resting my hand on the railing. Ember shifted once, then settled, trusting without question. The idea of merging packs didn’t frighten me.It weighed.Stoneveil hadn’t asked from desperation alone. They’d asked from awareness, from the understanding that surv

AVERYI underestimated how many opinions one wedding could generate in under ten minutes.Ilyra arrived first, efficient and already carrying a bundle of parchment like she’d been waiting her entire life for this moment. My mom followed a few minutes later, coffee in hand, eyes bright with the kind of excitement she was trying very hard not to show.They looked at each other.Smiled politely.I braced myself.“You don’t need all that,” I said, nodding at Ilyra’s stack.Ilyra arched an eyebrow. “I absolutely do.”My mom laughed. “This is already my favorite day.”We settled at the long table in the smaller sitting room, the one that felt less official and more lived-in. Ember slept nearby, mercifully uninterested in our impending chaos.Ilyra wasted no time. “Pack ceremonies traditionally—”“I know,” I interrupted gently. “And I want to honor that. Just not… all of it.”She studied me for a moment, then nodded. “Good. That narrows things.”My mom leaned forward eagerly. “I’m mostly her

AVERYThe morning after the attack felt quieter than it should have.Not because nothing had happened. Because everything that needed to had already been handled.Ember slept through most of it, tucked against me while the pack reset itself outside. I could hear movement through the open window—footsteps, low voices, the murmur of coordination that meant things were already being put back into order.That was Emberfall.I was still adjusting to how comforting that was.My mom knocked once before letting herself in, coffee in one hand and a small bag in the other. She moved carefully, like she was afraid to disturb the air.“How’s my favorite girl,” she whispered.I smiled. “Which one.”She grinned and leaned down to peer at Ember. “Still her.”Ember made a tiny sound, face scrunching before relaxing again. My mom softened immediately, all bravado gone.“She looks bigger every day,” she said.“She is,” I replied. “Or I’m just losing perspective.”My mom set the bag down and pulled out

AVERY Morning came softly. Not gently, just quietly enough that it didn’t feel like an interruption. I woke to Ember’s familiar stirring, the small pre-cry sounds she made when she was still deciding whether the world was worth waking for. Rowan slept beside me, one arm heavy around my waist, his breath slow and even in a way that told me he hadn’t been fully at rest in days. I stayed still for a moment, letting myself feel it all. The warmth. The closeness. The ache in my muscles that had nothing to do with exhaustion and everything to do with being alive. Then Ember decided. I slipped free carefully, lifting her from the bassinet before she could escalate. She blinked up at me, serious and unimpressed, like I’d personally delayed breakfast out of spite. “I know,” I whispered. “You’re right.” Behind me, Rowan stirred but didn’t wake. I smiled to myself as I settled into the chair by the window, feeding Ember while the sky lightened outside. Emberfall was already moving; I co

AVERY Time didn’t move the way I expected it to after that.It didn’t rush forward in milestones or stall out in fragile pauses. Instead, it widened, stretched itself thin enough to hold everything at once. Days layered gently, feeding schedules and patrol rotations and quiet conversations stacking without crushing each other. Somewhere between Ember’s third nap of the day and a late afternoon walk through the grounds, I realized something that stopped me cold.I wasn’t bracing anymore.Ember lay on a thick blanket near the hearth, arms flung wide like she had already claimed the space by right. Her eyes were open, dark and unblinking, tracking movement with a seriousness that felt far too aware for someone who still startled at her own fingers. She made a small sound of offense when the light shifted across her face.Rowan adjusted the curtain immediately, not even looking at me.“You’re training her well,” I murmured.