All Chapters of The Rejected Plus-Size Mate: Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

Elara’s pov The forest floor was a blur of damp leaves and tangled roots as I struggled to keep pace with Elias. My lungs burned, but the physical pain was a welcome distraction from the hollow ache in my chest. Every few steps, my mind drifted back to the grey stone walls of the pack house, the smell of the hearth, and the life I had known since I was a child. "Stop it, Elara," Elias said, his voice cutting through the heavy thud of our boots. He didn't turn around, his focus entirely on the trail ahead. "Don't look back. You’re doing it again." "I can't help it," I whispered, tripping over a protruding root. I caught myself against a tree trunk, my fingers digging into the rough bark. "It’s my home, Elias. Everything I know is there." He stopped then, turning to face me. His eyes were hard, lacking the sympathy I craved. "Is it? Or is it just the place where you were a servant? A ghost? You’ve told me a thousand times how you dreamt of the world beyond the border. You wanted

Elias’ povI paced the length of the solar, my boots thudding rhythmically against the stone floor. The fire in the hearth had burned down to glowing embers, casting long, distorted shadows against the tapestries. I glanced toward the heavy oak doors of our private chambers for the hundredth time.Empty. Elara wasn’t there. I turned my gaze toward the corner where Frey usually hovered, silent and watchful, but the shadow was vacant. Both of them were gone."Stay calm," I whispered to the empty room, my hands clenching into fists at my sides. "She’s just... she needed air. She wouldn't just leave after everything."My wolf paced inside my chest, a restless, snarling weight. The scent of her—sandalwood and winter air—was faint, fading from the linens. I checked the wardrobe; her cloak was missing. I checked the armory rack; her twin daggers were gone. "Dammit, Elara," I hissed, leaning my forehead against the cool stone of the wi

Isabella’s povI sat on the velvet-cushioned throne, my spine perfectly straight, savoring the delicious weight of the crown against my scalp. Below me, in the center of the cold stone floor, Elara looked small. Pathetic. The whispers from the gallery were like music—a low, rhythmic percussion of judgment."Look at her," I murmured, leaning slightly toward the Elder seated to my right. "Coming back here after she was cast out. It’s a slap in the face to every tradition we hold dear."The Elder nodded, his face a mask of stern disapproval. "It is an affront, Lady Isabella. Exile is not a suggestion. It is a death sentence for the soul."I felt a surge of pure, unadulterated joy. Nathan sat beside me, his profile sharp and stony. I knew I had him. He was trapped between my influence and the demands of the law. I reached out, my fingers grazing the sleeve of his tunic, feeling the tension in his arm. He was mine. Every time he looked at me, I saw the resignation of a man who knew he had

Isabella’s povThe door to my chambers didn’t just close; it slammed with a violence that vibrated through the soles of my feet. I didn't stop. I couldn't stop. My vision was swimming in a toxic shade of crimson as I reached for the nearest thing—a porcelain vase gifted by the southern delegates—and hurled it against the stone hearth.It shattered into a thousand jagged teeth."Why?" I shrieked, the sound tearing at my throat. "Why does it always happen like this?"I grabbed the silk hangings of my bed and yanked, the sound of tearing fabric providing a momentary, pathetic thrill. I threw a jewelry box across the room, watching pearls scatter like hail. Every plan, every carefully laid trap, every whisper in the ears of the Elders—it all meant nothing. I had Elara cornered. I had her at the brink of execution. And then, like a curse, she had to manifest that... that light."It's not fair!" I screamed at the empty room, my chest heaving. I kicked a low stool, sending it skittering into

Nathan’s POV The heavy, golden light of morning spilled across the furs, warming the skin of my chest. I stirred, the familiar weight of a woman’s head resting against my shoulder bringing a slow smile to my face. For a fleeting, hazy second, my mind drifted to Elara—the scent of her, the way she used to curl into me like she was afraid the world would end if she let go. My heart gave a sharp, involuntary pang, a reflex I hadn't quite managed to kill yet.But then I looked down. It wasn't Elara.Isabella lay there, her dark hair fanned out like silk against my skin. I took a steadying breath, shifting slightly so I could tuck a stray lock behind her ear. *No,* I told myself, *this is better.* This wasn't just about the heat of the night; this was the long game. I’d spent weeks clawing my way back into her good graces, trying to erase the stains of my past mistakes. If she was here, in my bed, sleeping soundly, it meant the walls were finally coming down. I’d gotten her trust back. I