Rejected by the Lycan Prince

Three days. That's how long it took for the fever to break and the worst of the bond's rejection to stop feeling like molten metal in my veins. Three days of my mother's cool hands on my forehead, her worried whispers, and the taste of bitter herbs that did nothing to heal what had been torn apart inside me.

Now I stood outside the Moonveil Pack diner, my hand trembling as I reached for the familiar brass handle. The mark on my neck had faded to a dull silver scar, but it still burned whenever I thought about storm-gray eyes and the word "mine" whispered against my throat.

I couldn't afford to think about it. Not when rent was due and my mother's medication cost more than I made in a week.

The bell above the door chimed as I entered, and conversation didn't just pause—it died completely. Twenty pairs of eyes turned toward me with expressions ranging from pity to disgust to the kind of morbid fascination people reserved for car accidents.

"Look who's back," someone whispered near the counter. "The omega who thought she could catch a prince."

"Shh," another voice hissed. "She might hear you."

"Good. Maybe she needs to hear it."

I kept my chin up and walked to the staff room, feeling their stares like physical weights on my shoulders. Sarah was waiting by the lockers, her face creased with worry.

"Bella, honey, are you sure you're ready for this?" Her voice was gentle, but I caught the underlying concern. "Half the pack's been talking about nothing else since the gala."

"I'm fine," I lied, tying my apron with hands that only shook a little. "Just need to get back to normal."

Normal. As if anything would ever be normal again.

The lunch rush hit like a tidal wave, and I threw myself into the familiar rhythm of taking orders and serving tables. But every conversation seemed to quiet when I approached, only to resume in hushed whispers once I moved away.

"Poor thing," I heard from table six. "Imagine thinking you could be Luna."

"The prince was right to reject her," came from table three. "A wolfless omega? What was the Moon Goddess thinking?"

Each comment was a small cut, but I'd learned to armor myself with work. Focus on the orders. Smile at the customers. Pretend their words couldn't touch me.

I was refilling coffee cups at Alpha Derek Morrison's table when my hand betrayed me. The hot liquid splashed across his expensive sleeve, dark stains spreading across the pale fabric.

"You clumsy little—" His hand shot out and wrapped around my wrist in a grip that made my bones creak. "Do you have any idea how much this shirt costs?"

The entire diner went silent. Alpha Morrison's dominance pressed down on me like a physical weight, making it hard to breathe. Without a wolf to protect me, his aura hit me full force.

"I'm so sorry, Alpha Morrison," I gasped, trying to pull free. His grip tightened. "Please, let me get you a towel—"

"You need to learn your place," he snarled, loud enough for everyone to hear. "First you embarrass yourself at the gala, now you can't even serve coffee properly. This is exactly why omegas like you should stick to scrubbing floors."

Heat flooded my cheeks, but I forced myself to meet his eyes. "It was an accident, Alpha. I'll pay for the cleaning—"

"With what money?" He laughed, the sound cruel and mocking. "You can barely afford to keep your sick mother alive. Face it, girl—you're nothing but a burden on this pack."

The words hit harder than any physical blow. Around us, I could feel the other patrons watching, some with sympathy, others with the satisfied expressions of people witnessing someone get what they deserved.

From across the room, I caught sight of Felix behind the kitchen window, his hands clenched into fists as he watched the scene unfold. His jaw was tight with barely controlled anger, but I shook my head slightly. I couldn't let him get involved. Not when Alpha Morrison could destroy his future with a single word.

That's when the temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.

The diner's front door slammed open with enough force to rattle the windows. Every conversation died instantly as a presence filled the space—dark, commanding, and absolutely terrifying. The scent of cedar and storms flooded my senses, making my knees weak.

Prince Vance Cunningham stood in the doorway like an avenging angel, his storm-gray eyes scanning the room with predatory intensity. His Alpha aura rolled off him in waves so powerful that every wolf in the diner immediately bared their necks in submission.

Everyone except me. I couldn't submit to someone who had already rejected me.

His gaze found mine across the crowded room, and something dangerous flickered in those storm-gray depths. Alpha Morrison's grip on my wrist loosened as he too felt the overwhelming dominance radiating from the doorway.

Vance began walking toward our table with the fluid grace of a predator approaching its prey, and I realized with growing dread that whatever had brought him here, it wasn't going to end well for anyone.