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.

Five days. Five goddamn days of searching every cave, every abandoned cabin, every rogue den within a hundred miles of this cursed mountain, and still nothing. My men were exhausted, their faces drawn with the strain of following their Alpha King on what was beginning to feel like a fool's errand. But I couldn't stop. Wouldn't stop. Not when Gwen's life hung in the balance.

I stood on the Dunns' porch again, my hands clenched into fists as I stared at the couple huddled together on their wooden chairs. They looked smaller than before, more fragile, but their defiance remained unbroken. It only fueled the rage burning in my chest.

"Last chance," I growled, my voice rough from days of shouting orders and interrogating rogues. "Tell me where she is, and I'll make this quick."

Alistair's weathered hand tightened around his mate's, their shared strength visible in the way they leaned into each other. "We've told you the truth, Alpha King. Our daughter is dead."

The formal title sounded like a curse on his lips. The lack of respect, the quiet condemnation in his tone, made something snap inside me. My wolf surged forward, and I let my Alpha power explode outward with more force than I'd ever used before.

The windows of the cabin shattered instantly, glass raining down like deadly snow. The wooden porch groaned under the supernatural pressure, and I heard something crack—furniture inside the cabin, maybe the support beams themselves. The very air seemed to vibrate with my rage.

Elara screamed as the power hit her, her body convulsing as she was driven to the ground. Blood began to trickle from her ears, bright red against her pale skin. Alistair tried to shield her, crawling across the splintered porch to pull her into his arms, but my power crushed him down too.

"WHERE IS SHE?" The words tore from my throat like a battle cry, and I felt the mountain itself seem to tremble in response.

Elara's eyes rolled back, her breathing becoming shallow and erratic. Still, neither of them spoke. Their mate bond was keeping them strong, allowing them to draw from each other's will even as my Alpha authority tried to break them completely.

I increased the pressure, my wolf howling for dominance, for submission, for the answers I needed. The remaining windows exploded outward. A tree near the cabin split down the middle with a sound like thunder. But the old couple held on, their love for each other and their dead daughter stronger than my supernatural compulsion.

Hours passed. The sun began to set, painting the sky the color of blood. My men watched from a distance, their faces pale with shock at the raw display of Alpha power. Leo had tried to approach me twice, but I'd snarled him back each time.

Elara had long since lost consciousness, her frail body unable to withstand the continued assault. Alistair cradled her against his chest, his own face gray with pain and exhaustion, but his eyes still burned with defiant love.

"She's dying," he whispered, his voice barely audible above the supernatural pressure that filled the air like a living thing. "My mate... she's dying because of you. Just like our daughter did."

Something in his tone made me pause. Not the words—I'd heard their claims about Roselyn's death a dozen times. But the way he said it, the absolute certainty, the grief so deep it seemed to have carved itself into his very bones.

"You're lying," I snarled, but even as I said it, doubt began to creep in. "She's hiding. She has to be hiding."

Alistair's laugh was bitter, broken. "You want to know where she is? You want to see your mate so badly?" He struggled to his feet, his legs shaking under the weight of my Alpha power, several ribs clearly broken from the sustained assault. "Fine."

Step by agonizing step, he dragged himself to the shattered cabin window. His breathing was ragged, blood speckling his lips with each exhale. With a trembling hand that shook from more than just pain, he pointed toward a small clearing about fifty yards from the cabin.

"There," he whispered, his voice carrying a finality that made my wolf suddenly go very, very still. "There is your mate, Alpha King. There is the woman you threw away for a crown and a political alliance."

I followed his gaze to the clearing he indicated. At first, I saw nothing unusual—just mountain grass and wildflowers swaying in the evening breeze. But then I noticed the pattern. Moonflowers. Dozens of them, growing in a perfect rectangle, their white petals glowing like stars in the fading light.

A grave. He was pointing to a grave.

"Leo," I called, my voice strangely hollow. "Bring shovels."