From Pack Reject To The Lycan Prince's Obsession

The day my mother left the pack with her new mate, I clung to her sleeve, crying as we walked from one end of the territory to the other.

But she yanked her arm free and gave me a cold look. "Our bond as mother and daughter is over. From now on, call me 'Auntie' if we meet again."

My father had long abandoned the pack, and the council had approved her remarriage on the condition that she exchanged our last plot of fertile land and the pack house for it.

I had no clothes to wear, no food to eat. It was my step-grandmother, whom my mother had driven away years ago, who found me in the abandoned den. "Child," she said, "come with me."

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That day, my voice was hoarse from crying, but my mother still rode away in the truck decorated with red ribbons, never looking back.

My brother, hearing my cries, turned to look at me curiously, but my mother sharply forced his head back around.

The pack members whispered that my mother was heartless, but that didn’t stop the council from sending someone to take over our house.

After all, as a female, I had no claim to inherit anything under pack law.

A kind-hearted pack member suggested that my uncle, who had taken over the house, should take me in, but his mate just hurled a bucket of water at her and snapped, "Not a chance."

I was left with no choice but to move to the pack’s abandoned den, in exchange for thirty pounds of cornmeal.

The day my step-grandmother came for me was the first snowfall of winter. By then, the cornmeal was long gone, and I had been surviving on wild herbs from the forest.

She and my grandfather had been a second mating for both—a widow and a widower, each with their own pups. We had no blood relation, and I’d only known her briefly before I was four or five.

I still remembered the first red ribbon I ever owned—she had bought it for me.

But after my grandfather passed, my mother had schemed to drive her out and take everything for herself. Even I had said cruel things to her back then.

In the end, she had no choice but to leave with her mated daughter.

Now, seeing her again, she looked much the same as I remembered, just a bit older, but still full of life.

She stared at me for a long moment, her eyes reddening. "You have your grandfather’s eyes."

I trembled, huddled in the corner of the den, too afraid to speak.

She didn’t seem to mind. She stepped forward and took my frostbitten hand. "Come, child. Let’s go home."

Home? Did I still have a home?

But at that moment, her words felt like a lifeline. I nodded through my tears, thinking that at least I wouldn’t freeze to death alone in the night.

Her home was in the neighboring pack territory,