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Rejected Mate's Revival Novel Cover

Rejected Mate's Revival

The metallic scent of blood mingled with dust and smoke as I knelt beside my father's body. His eyes, once bright with laughter, now stared emptily at the ceiling of our shattered home. My hands trembled as I reached for his face, hoping to find some spark of life, some miracle that would make this nightmare disappear. "Dad," I whispered, my voice breaking. "Please wake up." But he couldn't hear me anymore. The rogues had made sure of that. I turned toward my mother, lying unconscious across the room, her head surrounded by a pool of crimson. Her breathing came in shallow gasps that terrified me with each labored rise of her chest. "Mom," I choked out, crawling to her side. "Stay with me.
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Chapter 3

The first time Sabrina walked into a pack council meeting as Tyler's "advisor," I felt the air leave my lungs. She wore a fitted blazer that matched Tyler's suit, her smile razor-sharp as she took a seat directly across from me at the long mahogany table.

"Good morning, everyone," Tyler announced, his voice carrying that natural Alpha authority that made everyone straighten. "Before we begin, I'd like to introduce Sabrina Spencer as my new strategic advisor."

I gripped the edge of the table, my knuckles white. Strategic advisor? There was no such position in our pack structure.

"Thank you, Alpha," Sabrina purred, her eyes briefly meeting mine with unmistakable triumph. "I'm honored to serve the Montgomery Pack in this capacity."

Tyler's hand brushed hers as he passed her a folder—a casual touch that sent a jolt of pain through our mate bond.

"April," he said, finally acknowledging me, "I expect you to work closely with Sabrina on Luna duties."

I nodded stiffly, feeling the weight of every council member's gaze. My wolf whimpered inside me, sensing danger but unable to fight back against our mate's authority.

---

Three weeks later, Sabrina stood before the council again, this time with a polished presentation.

"As we move forward as a pack," she began, her voice honey-sweet, "it's important that all leadership positions meet certain standards of competency."

She clicked to the next slide, revealing a document titled "Luna Performance Evaluation Protocol."

"My proposal is simple," she continued, not bothering to hide her smirk. "The Luna position requires specific skills and knowledge. Regular assessments will ensure our pack receives proper leadership."

My stomach twisted as I scanned the document—public speaking evaluations, pack history tests, even physical endurance challenges. None of these had ever been requirements before.

"This is unprecedented," I said, my voice shaking. "No Luna has ever been subjected to such tests."

"Perhaps that's the problem," Sabrina replied smoothly. "The position has become... complacent."

Tyler nodded thoughtfully. "I believe Sabrina raises valid points. A Luna must prove her worth to serve this pack effectively."

"Tyler," I whispered urgently, "these standards are clearly targeted at me."

His eyes flashed dangerously. "Enough, April." His Alpha tone vibrated through the room, forcing me into silence. "Even a Luna must prove her worth to serve this pack."

---

I pressed myself against the wall outside Tyler's office, my heart pounding as I overheard Beta Marcus's voice.

"The Luna competency tests are scheduled for next week," he was saying. "Sabrina has prepared quite thorough evaluations."

"Good," Tyler replied. "Make sure everything is properly documented."

"And the private meetings?" Marcus asked carefully.

Tyler sighed. "Continue scheduling them as usual. The fewer people who know about Sabrina's special projects, the better."

I slipped away before they could discover me, my mind racing. Special projects? Private meetings?

That night, I waited until Tyler returned to our bedroom. He looked exhausted, loosening his tie as he sat on the edge of the bed.

"You've been meeting with Sabrina," I said quietly. "Multiple times a week."

His head snapped up, eyes narrowing. "Who told you that?"

"No one had to tell me. I heard you and Marcus."

Tyler stood abruptly, towering over me. "Are you spying on me now, April? Questioning my every move?"

"I'm trying to understand why my mate is spending so much time with another woman."

"You're being paranoid," he snapped, his voice rising. "Sabrina is an advisor. Nothing more."

"Then why the secrecy?"

"Because some matters don't require your input!" he shouted, his Alpha aura flooding the room, making me flinch. "You're becoming controlling, April. It's not attractive."

---

The training session was supposed to be routine—sparring exercises to improve pack members' defensive skills. I paired with Jenna, a young Delta who had always been respectful toward me.

"Ready, Luna?" she asked, her stance wide and balanced.

I nodded, focusing on my form. But as we circled each other, I caught movement from the corner of my eye—Sabrina watching intently from the sidelines.

Jenna lunged forward, but something was wrong. Her trajectory was off, her movements too forceful for a simple training exercise. I tried to dodge, but she followed my movement with unnatural precision.

The blow caught me squarely in the ribs, sending me flying backward. My head cracked against the mat as I landed hard.

"Luna!" someone shouted as pain exploded through my body.

Through blurred vision, I saw Sabrina's satisfied smile before she quickly masked it with concern.

"Such a shame," she murmured, kneeling beside me as pack members gathered around. "Accidents happen in training."

I struggled to sit up, clutching my broken ribs. "That was no accident."

"April," Tyler's voice cut through the chaos as he approached. "Apologize to Jenna right now."

"What? She deliberately—"

"I said apologize." His Alpha command crushed any resistance. "Accidents happen in training. Your accusation is inappropriate and damaging to pack unity."

As the healer helped me to my feet, I caught her brief glance at the defensive wounds on my arms—proof of deliberate targeting.

"Accidents happen," she murmured quietly, echoing Tyler's words, but her eyes told me she knew the truth.

That night, as I lay in bed with bandaged ribs and a throbbing head, I pulled out a small leather journal I'd hidden beneath the floorboards. With shaking hands, I began to write everything down—dates, conversations, injuries. Evidence of what was happening to me.

Because someday, I might need to escape.

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