Rejected Mate's Revenge

Three years. Three years since I had banished her from my territory, and now I needed her heart to save the woman who had taken her place.

The mountain air bit at my face as our convoy of black SUVs wound up the narrow dirt road toward the Dunns' secluded cabin. Beta Leo sat rigid beside me in the passenger seat, his weathered hands gripping the door handle as we navigated another sharp turn. Behind us, Gamma Marcus followed with two additional vehicles filled with my most trusted guards.

"Alpha," Leo's voice was carefully neutral, "perhaps we should have sent an envoy first. Given the... circumstances of Miss Dunn's exile."

I didn't respond. Couldn't respond. The memory of Gwen's pale, dying face haunted every breath I took. The healers had been clear—only a heart transplant from someone with Roselyn's rare healing bloodline could save my Luna Queen. And despite the bitter irony of it all, despite the way my wolf had been restless and agitated for weeks, I would do whatever it took to preserve the alliance that kept our pack strong.

The cabin appeared through the pine trees like a ghost from another life. Modest and weathered, with smoke curling from its stone chimney, it looked exactly as I remembered from the few times I had visited during our mating period. Moonflowers—Roselyn's favorite—still bloomed in wild patches around the porch, their white petals catching the late afternoon light.

I stepped out of the vehicle before it had fully stopped, my boots crunching on the gravel path. The scent hit me immediately—herbs and woodsmoke, tinged with something else. Something that made my wolf pace anxiously in the back of my mind.

Alistair Dunn emerged from the cabin before I could knock, his once-broad shoulders now stooped with age and something heavier. Grief, perhaps. His mate Elara appeared beside him, her silver hair braided simply down her back, her green eyes—so much like her daughter's—wide with shock at seeing me.

"Alpha King," Alistair's voice was steady but cold, lacking any trace of the respect he had once shown me. "What brings you to our home?"

"I need to speak with Roselyn." The words came out sharper than I intended, my Alpha authority bleeding through. "Immediately."

The couple exchanged a look that made something twist in my chest. Elara's hand found her mate's arm, her knuckles white as she gripped the worn fabric of his shirt.

"Our daughter is dead," Alistair said quietly, his words falling like stones into still water.

I felt Leo tense beside me, but I dismissed the old healer's words with a sharp shake of my head. "Don't lie to me. I know she's here. Her scent—" I stopped, realizing that what I was detecting wasn't fresh. It was old, layered into the very walls of this place like a memory that refused to fade.

"She's been dead for three years," Elara whispered, tears streaming down her weathered cheeks. "Three years, two months, and sixteen days."

The precision of her words, the raw pain in her voice, should have given me pause. Instead, it only fueled my frustration. Gwen was dying. Every moment we wasted here brought her closer to death.

"Enough." My Alpha tone cracked like a whip through the mountain air. "I don't have time for games. Luna Queen Gwen is dying, and she needs Roselyn's heart. Now tell me where your daughter is hiding, or I'll tear this mountain apart stone by stone until I find her."

Alistair straightened despite his age, meeting my eyes with a defiance that would have impressed me under different circumstances. "We will not dishonor our daughter's memory by helping the man who betrayed her."

The words hit me like a physical blow, but I pushed down the guilt that tried to surface. I had made my choice three years ago. The pack came first. It always came first.

"Last chance," I growled, feeling my wolf's power building beneath my skin like a gathering storm.

When neither of them moved, when Elara only pulled her mate closer and lifted her chin in silent rebellion, I unleashed my Alpha power.

The force of it drove them both to their knees, their bodies convulsing as the supernatural pressure crushed down on them. Elara cried out, her hands clawing at the wooden porch as she fought against the overwhelming compulsion to submit. Alistair's face went gray, sweat beading on his forehead as he struggled to breathe under the weight of my authority.

But they didn't break. Even as I increased the pressure, even as their shared mate bond allowed them to draw strength from each other, they remained defiant. Alistair managed to lift his head just enough to meet my eyes, his voice a ragged whisper.

"She's... dead. You killed her... the day you... rejected her."

I released them abruptly, stepping back as they collapsed fully onto the porch, gasping and shaking. The sight of them—broken but unbroken, if that made sense—stirred something uncomfortable in my chest.

"Leo," I barked, turning away from the couple. "Organize search teams. Every cave, every cabin, every rogue den in a fifty-mile radius. She's here somewhere."

As my Beta began issuing orders into his radio, I stared out at the endless expanse of mountain wilderness. Somewhere out there, Roselyn was hiding. And I would find her, no matter what it cost.

I had to.