My Mate Publicly Rejected Me Before the Lycan Prince

Bodie had stammered some pathetic excuse about a delivery driver, slammed the door, and sped off before breakfast had even cooled. I didn't question him. I didn't need to. The clock was already ticking.

By dinner, the cracks were already splitting the foundation.

We sat in the formal dining room of the packhouse. Renner, Bodie's Beta, looked pale as he stared at his tablet. He hadn't touched his food.

"The grain and medical transport from the northern ridge didn't show up today, Alpha," Renner said, his brow creased with worry. "No warning. The depot won't answer our calls, and the drivers turned their radios off."

Bodie barely looked up from his steak. He was distracted, likely daydreaming about tomorrow’s ceremony and his shiny new trophy.

"Bureaucracy," Bodie dismissed with a wave of his fork. "They probably hit mud on the pass or got held up at a checkpoint. It happens."

"That's not all," Renner pressed, leaning closer across the mahogany table. "Stoneclaw Pack went completely dark. We had a joint border patrol scheduled along the eastern ridge for dawn. They pulled their wolves without a word. They aren't returning communications."

Bodie chuckled, completely unbothered. "Let them pout. Once tomorrow is over and our new status is official, they’ll come crawling back. They need us more than we need them."

I sat directly across from him, neatly cutting a roasted potato.

"You could reach out to their Gamma directly," I suggested in a soft, even tone. "Gavin usually handles their border assignments."

Bodie sighed loudly and rolled his eyes, shooting me an irritated look.

"Don't worry your pretty little head about logistics, Serenity," he said, talking down to me like I was a child. "You don't understand how high-level pack politics work. Just stick to the kitchen and the linen counts."

"Of course," I said gently.

I picked up my water glass and took a slow, quiet sip.

Behind my ribs, my suppressed wolf let out a deep, rumbling purr of pure satisfaction. *Blind fool,* she whispered.

The demolition of his empire had begun right on schedule.

***

The next morning, the packhouse buzzed with nervous energy. Whispers crawled through the hallways like ants. Everyone knew Bodie had spent the night away. Everyone knew about Lainey Pierce, even if Bodie hadn't made an official announcement yet.

Around noon, I sat on a leather sofa near the bay window in the common hall, a cipher ledger resting on my lap.

"Look at her," a sharp voice sneered across the room.

Jemma White stood by the grand fireplace, surrounded by her usual gaggle of sycophants. She held a coffee cup, her chin lifted high.

"Just sitting there pretending everything is normal," Jemma declared loudly, making sure every wolf in the hall heard every syllable. A dozen heads turned in our direction. "Can anyone really blame Bodie? What Alpha wants to be stuck with a wolfless Omega who can't even shift? You can't lead a real pack with someone who’s practically a human cripple."

A couple of Delta warriors by the weapon racks chuckled. Two she-wolves near the kitchen giggled behind their hands.

I didn't flinch. I kept my thumb pressed against the inside of my wrist, right where the suppressing chain rested beneath my long sleeve.

I raised my head and locked eyes with Jemma.

I held her gaze for three full seconds.

Cold. Unblinking. Empty of any fear.

Jemma faltered for half a heartbeat, thrown off by how still I was. Then her face twisted, mistaking my quietness for surrender. She stepped closer, raising her voice so it echoed off the timber rafters.

"Lainey Pierce has more Alpha blood and wolf instinct in her pinky finger than you have in your entire useless body," Jemma spat. "After today, Bodie will finally have a real Luna. And you'll just be pack trash."

I didn't answer. I didn't raise my voice, and I didn't cry.

I calmly closed the heavy leather ledger with a dull *thud*.

I stood up, smoothed down the front of my dark sweater, and walked toward the exit.

"See that?" Jemma’s shrill laugh bounced off the walls behind me. "The wolfless Luna doesn't even have the spine to talk back! Run along, little human!"

I kept walking down the quiet corridor.

Let them laugh. Tomorrow, they would choke on their own laughter.

***

By three in the afternoon, a cold rain had started to fall, tapping softly against the glass of my private suite.

A quiet knock sounded at the side door. Two quick taps, a pause, then one heavy strike.

I unlocked it immediately.

Eduardo stood in the dim frame.

He looked older. The silver at his temples was thicker, and the road dust clung to his heavy coat. But his posture was rigid, his shoulders were broad, and his dark eyes burned with the lethal sharpness of a veteran Beta warrior.

In his calloused hands, he held a heavy cedar chest draped in pitch-black velvet.

"Little one," he said, his gravelly voice low.

"Come inside," I replied, stepping back.

He set the box down on the center table. It sat there like a dark tombstone—the traditional werewolf death offering for a mate bond broken by blood and betrayal.

I poured two mugs of hot black tea. I stirred a spoonful of honey into each, leaving the cream aside, exactly the way we had shared it for twenty years.

I handed him his cup, and he settled into the chair across from me.

"Is the trap set?" he asked quietly.

"Lycan convoys stopped at sunrise," I said. "Every trade treaty and defense pact is officially dead. Renner is already panicking, but Bodie thinks it's just road delays."

Eduardo took a slow sip, nodding once. "Have you listed every alliance you granted him? Everything he thinks he owns?"

I pulled the cipher ledger from my bag and pushed it across the table.

Eduardo set down his mug and opened it. He turned the pages slowly, his scarred thumb tracing the columns of royal seals and treaty numbers. Ironvale’s supply routes. Their warrior training programs. Their territorial borders. Everything that kept this pack alive had come from my pen.

And now, every line was redlined.

Eduardo shut the book. A heavy, solemn quiet settled over the room.

When he looked up, a fierce, protective pride gleamed in his aged eyes.

"Everything is in order," Eduardo said, his voice steady as iron. He looked toward the black velvet box. "The death offering is ready."

I looked at the draped cedar. On my neck, the mate mark gave a sharp, freezing throb.

"So am I," I said.