Rejected By My Pack, Claimed By The Lycan King

Kaelen POV

The heavy rain continued to pound against the concrete pillars of the overpass, washing the blood and mud into the storm drains. Justin Frye didn't move. He remained frozen in the driver's seat, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel, staring at me through the shattered window.

"I said, open the trunk," I repeated, my voice barely carrying over the downpour, yet cutting through his panic like a blade.

Fumbling, Justin hit the release button. The heavy liftgate of the Navigator swung upward. I gestured to the six unconscious rogues bleeding out in the mud. "Load them up."

"You... you're insane," Justin stammered, his voice cracking. He finally found a shred of his misplaced Omega courage. "Alpha Harlen will kill you for this! You're just a wolfless—"

I didn't let him finish. In one fluid motion, I reached into my muddy boot and drew a slender, six-inch needle. It gleamed under the harsh glare of the pickup trucks' headlights. Pure silver.

I lunged through the broken window, grabbing Justin by the collar of his uniform, and pressed the tip of the needle directly against his carotid artery.

The reaction was instantaneous. The unmistakable hiss of searing flesh filled the damp air, followed by the acrid stench of burnt skin. Justin let out a blood-curdling scream, his body convulsing as his inner wolf howled in pure, unadulterated agony. Silver was a death sentence to our kind, a poison that burned the soul just as much as the body.

"Talk," I whispered, pressing the needle a millimeter deeper. "Why the overpass?"

"To break you!" Justin sobbed, tears and sweat streaming down his pale face. "Candace and Jayda... they wanted the rogues to terrify you, to break your spirit! They need you docile, a broken little wolfless pawn to trade for an alliance before they ship you off to St. Augustus! Please, stop! It burns!"

I pulled the silver back just enough to stop the searing, though the angry red burn mark remained. I had what I needed.

"Get out," I ordered. "Load the cargo."

Whimpering, Justin scrambled out into the rain and began the grueling task of dragging the massive, dead-weight rogues into the spacious trunk. When he was done, he leaned against the bumper, gasping for air.

I grabbed his hand, forcing his trembling thumb onto his phone's sensor to unlock it. I scrolled to Candace's contact.

I slammed Justin against the hood of the Lincoln, bringing the silver needle right to his temple. "Call her. Tell her the job is done. Tell her I'm a broken doll crying in the backseat. If your voice doesn't sound convincing, I'll push this through your skull."

Justin nodded frantically. He dialed the number, putting it on speaker.

*"Well?"* Candace's voice purred through the line, dripping with cruel anticipation.

"It's... it's done, Luna," Justin choked out, his voice shaking violently from the lingering terror of the silver. It was the perfect performance. "She's a mess. Completely broken. She won't stop crying."

A cold, triumphant laugh echoed from the phone. *"Perfect. Take the cargo straight to the airport. The private jet is waiting to take her to St. Augustus."*

The line went dead. I shoved Justin toward the driver's door. "Get in."

I climbed into the back, ignoring the shattered glass on the beige leather. As Justin started the engine, my military-grade burner phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out. An encrypted message from Onyx flashed across the screen.

*ALERT: Target ZEUS ambushed. I-94, Mile 30. Weapon: Silver-laced neurotoxin. Priority: Critical.*

My blood ran cold. Target Zeus meant the Graves Dominion convoy. The most powerful pack in North America, ruled by Lycans. A silver-laced neurotoxin was a highly specialized, extremely lethal weapon designed specifically to bypass a Lycan's accelerated healing.

"Change of plans," I said, my eyes locked on the screen. "Get on I-94. Head thirty miles east."

Justin stared at me in the rearview mirror, his eyes wide. "But the airport... the Luna's orders—"

I met his gaze, letting the dead, hollow emptiness of my eyes swallow his protests. He swallowed hard, shifted the SUV into drive, and sped out from under the overpass, merging onto the rain-slicked highway.

The wind howled through the broken window as I unzipped my duffel bag. I stripped off the muddy, pathetic flannel shirt I had used as a disguise. Underneath, I pulled on a black tactical hoodie, slipping my hands into reinforced combat gloves, and pulled a dark mask over my lower face. The fragile Omega was gone.

Justin watched the transformation in the mirror, his knuckles white on the wheel. The sheer impossibility of what he had witnessed tonight finally broke his understanding of the world.

"What..." he whispered, his voice trembling with a new, profound dread. "What are you?"

I looked at my reflection in the glass, adjusting the strap of my medical kit.

"I'm the cleaner."