All Chapters of Rejected by My Mate, Desired by His Enemy : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

"Iris? Can we talk?"I should run. Octavia's right. But where would I go?I sit on my bed with a half-packed bag open beside me. Three shirts. Two pairs of pants. Underwear. The essentials for running away laid out on faded cotton.I pick up a fourth shirt. Put it down. Pick it up again.No money. Damon controls every cent. My paychecks go into an account I can't access. The cash allowance he gives me barely covers groceries. I have maybe thirty dollars hidden in an old jewelry box. Enough for one tank of gas. Maybe two meals.No car. All the vehicles belong to the pack. Even if I took one, they'd track it within an hour. I'd be brought back before I made it to the county line.No family. My parents died when I was eight. The relatives who raised me made it clear I was a burden. I haven't spoken to them in four years. They wouldn't help even if I asked.No friends. Sara stopped calling months ago. Emma avoids me at work. Everyone else in the pack follows Damon's lead. If he says I'm u

"I brought you real food."Three days I spend in that hospital bed, and not one person visits except Octavia.The machines beep constantly. Monitoring. Recording. Making sure my baby's heartbeat stays strong and steady. It does. Defiant little thing. Holding on despite everything Clarissa tried to do.The nurses come in every few hours to check my vitals. They're efficient. Professional. They don't make eye contact.Through my open door, I watch pack members walk past in the hallway. Some are visiting other patients. Some work here. All of them see me. All of them look away.I'm a pariah now. The Luna who tried to abort her own child. That's what they're saying. I can hear the whispers echoing down the sterile corridors.Selfish. Unstable. Dangerous.My reputation, already shredded, is completely destroyed.The hospital food arrives three times a day. Small portions. Plain. Broth and crackers mostly. Supposedly for my stomach. But I know better. It's punishment. The bare minimum to ke

"I, Iris Whitmore, accept your rejection."I should beg. Plead. Make a scene. Instead, I smile.My voice carries across the silent square. Steady. Clear. Loud enough that everyone hears. Every single wolf watching this spectacle.Damon's eyes widen. Just a fraction. Just enough to show his surprise.He expected tears. Expected me to fall apart. To make this difficult. To cling to him the way I've clung to the scraps of our marriage for three years."I accept it gladly." I let the words hang in the air between us. "Because you were never worthy of being my mate."The pack gasps. Collective. Shocked. Sharp intakes of breath that sound like wind through trees.Defiance in a rejection ritual is unheard of. The rejected mate is supposed to submit. To accept their shame with grace. To disappear quietly into exile.I'm not disappearing quietly into anything.Elder Silas stands. His face is red. Angry. "Girl, you will show respect...""Respect is earned." I turn to face him. Face all of them

"You're awake. Good."Warmth. The first thing I notice is warmth.I'm in a bed. Soft bed with clean sheets that smell like lavender and something else. Something fresh. Not the antiseptic hospital smell. Not the musty scent of the west wing. Just clean.A fireplace crackles somewhere to my left. Real fire. Wood smoke. Heat that reaches across the room and wraps around me like a blanket.This isn't a prison. Isn't a hospital. This is actual comfort.Confusion floods through me before anything else. Where am I?I sit up slowly. Carefully. My body aches but it's manageable. Not the screaming agony from last night. Just deep soreness. Like I've been beaten and left to recover.My hand flies to my stomach.Baby.Please still be there.I press my palm flat against the slight curve. Hold my breath. Wait.There. Movement. Small and fluttering but unmistakable. My baby is alive.Relief hits so hard I almost sob. My eyes burn. My throat closes. But I swallow it down and just breathe. Just feel

"Alpha says you're welcome to join dinner. No pressure."Seven days I've been here, and no one has demanded anything from me. I keep waiting for the catch.My routine is simple. Sleep until my body decides to wake up. Eat the meals that appear outside my door three times a day. Let Meredith check on the baby every afternoon. Watch the pack from my window. Sleep again.Meredith visits daily. Always at the same time. Always gentle. She listens to the baby's heartbeat with her hand on my stomach and smiles when she finds it strong and steady."Growing well," she says every time. "You're both doing well."She never asks about Silverpine. Never asks about Damon. Never pushes me to talk about anything I'm not ready to share.Other pack members pass my door. I hear their footsteps. Their voices. But they don't knock. Don't intrude. They're giving me space to heal. To process. To exist without performance.Donovan visits once a day. Always brief. Five minutes maybe. He knocks first. Waits for