After My Mate Rejected Me, the Lycan Prince Claimed Me

The Great Hall of the Shadowridge Pack house smelled like roasted venison and expensive wine. Chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling, casting warm light over tables draped in white linen. Alphas from three neighboring packs had arrived for the alliance signing, and everyone wore their best. Warriors stood straighter. She-wolves laughed louder. Even the Omegas serving drinks moved with careful pride.

I stood with the other healers near the back wall, close enough to respond if someone needed us, far enough to stay out of the way. My white healer's tunic was clean and pressed. My hair was pinned back. I looked like I belonged here.

But my eyes kept drifting to the head table.

Nolan sat in the Alpha's chair, broad-shouldered and commanding in a dark suit that made his silver eyes look sharper. His jaw was clean-shaven. His dark hair was swept back. He looked every inch the leader everyone believed him to be.

And beside him, in the Luna's chair—the chair that should have been mine—sat Briana Flores.

She wore a deep red gown that clung to her curves and made her skin glow. Her black hair fell in glossy waves over one shoulder. She laughed at something one of the visiting Alphas said, her hand resting lightly on Nolan's forearm. The gesture looked easy. Natural. Like she had been sitting in that chair her whole life.

I pressed my fingertips to the side of my neck, where Nolan's mark burned beneath my skin. Three years. Three years of this.

"Clara, you okay?" Maya, one of the younger healers, whispered beside me.

I dropped my hand quickly. "Fine. Just warm in here."

She gave me a look that said she didn't believe me, but she didn't push. Maya was kind that way.

On the head table, Nolan leaned closer to Briana. His hand slid to her lower back. She tilted her head, exposing the curve of her neck, and he nuzzled just below her ear.

My stomach twisted.

I told myself it didn't mean anything. It was part of the performance. The alliance required Nolan to appear available, unattached, open to a political pairing. Briana was beautiful and charming and came from a neutral bloodline—perfect for public display. He had explained this to me three years ago, the night he marked me in his private quarters and then told me we had to keep it secret.

"Just until the alliance is secure," he had said, his thumb tracing my jaw. "I need you to trust me."

And I had. Because he was my mate. Because the Moon Goddess herself had chosen us for each other. Because I believed that what we had in private—his hands in my hair, his mouth on mine, the way he whispered my name when no one else could hear—was real.

But three years was a long time to be invisible.

The visiting Alphas raised their glasses. Nolan stood, his voice carrying across the hall as he spoke about unity and strength and the future of our packs. Everyone applauded. Briana beamed up at him like he had hung the moon.

I looked away.

That's when I felt it—a flicker in the mind-link, like a door left open. Not the general pack channel, but something private. Nolan's voice, low and controlled, speaking to someone.

Marcus. His Beta.

*"—can't keep dragging this out. The alliance is signed. I need to make it official."*

I froze.

*"You're sure?"* Marcus's voice was careful. *"Once you reject her, there's no going back. The bond—"*

*"I know what it means,"* Nolan cut him off. *"But Briana's been patient. She deserves the Luna title. And Clara... she'll understand. She always does."*

The hall tilted.

I pressed my hand to the wall behind me, my breath coming too fast. Reject. He was going to reject me. Not someday, not eventually—soon. He was going to sever the bond the Moon Goddess had given us and make Briana his permanent Luna.

And he thought I would just... understand.

*"When?"* Marcus asked.

*"After the ceremony next week. I'll do it privately. No need to make a spectacle."*

No need to make a spectacle. Like I was a problem to be managed quietly. Like three years of silent devotion had earned me nothing but discretion.

I didn't realize I was shaking until Maya touched my arm. "Clara? You're pale. Do you need to sit down?"

I shook my head. My throat felt tight. "I just—I need some air."

I pushed away from the wall and headed for the side door, moving quickly before anyone could stop me. The hallway outside the Great Hall was cooler and quieter. I leaned against the stone wall and closed my eyes, trying to breathe.

Footsteps approached. Light. Familiar.

"Clara!"

I opened my eyes. Briana stood a few feet away, her red gown shimmering under the hallway lights. Her expression was warm and concerned—the same look she always gave me when we talked, when she asked about my day, when she pretended to be my closest friend.

"Are you okay?" She stepped closer, her brow furrowed. "You looked upset in there."

I stared at her. At the she-wolf who sat in my chair. Who touched my mate in public. Who had spent months telling me through our private mind-link about her perfect, powerful, attentive fated mate—never saying his name, always smiling like she had a beautiful secret.

And the whole time, she had known.

She had known it was Nolan. She had known about the mark on my neck. She had known I was watching.

"I'm fine," I said quietly.

Her hand touched my arm, gentle and sisterly. "You don't look fine. You look exhausted. Have you been sleeping? Eating?"

I wanted to laugh. Or scream. Or ask her how she could stand here pretending to care when she was the reason I couldn't sleep, couldn't eat, couldn't breathe without feeling like I was drowning.

But I didn't. Because I had spent three years learning how to swallow pain without showing it.

"I'm just tired," I said.

She squeezed my arm. "You work too hard. You need to take care of yourself." Her eyes searched mine, soft and worried. "You know you can always talk to me, right? About anything."

I looked at her. Really looked at her. At the she-wolf who had been my friend since we were teenagers. Who I had trusted with everything.

And I realized, with a cold, sinking certainty, that I had never known her at all.

"I know," I said.

She smiled. Warm. Radiant. Victorious.

"Good," she said. "Come back inside when you're ready. The dancing is about to start."

She turned and walked back toward the Great Hall, her red gown trailing behind her like a river of blood.

I stayed in the hallway, alone, my hand pressed to the mark on my neck that no one was ever supposed to see.