Rejected Mate's Revival

Five years passed in a blur of pack duties and daily visits to the medical facility. My mother's room had become as familiar to me as my own bedroom—the same antiseptic smell, the same soft beeping of monitors, the same vacant look in her eyes when she woke.

"Mom," I whispered, taking her hand in mine. It felt smaller somehow, fragile. "Today's a good day, isn't it? Do you know who I am?"

She blinked slowly, her gaze focusing somewhere beyond my shoulder. "April?" Her voice was thin, childlike. "Is that you, sweetie? Where's your father?"

My heart clenched. Five years, and still no improvement. The healers had tried everything—or so they claimed.

"The doctors say her condition is deteriorating," I told Tyler later that evening, watching him review pack documents at his desk. "They're not sure why."

He didn't look up from his papers. "These things happen, April. Brain damage isn't always reversible."

"But they said her wolf should be healing her." I persisted, moving closer. "Dr. Cross mentioned something about unusual toxicity levels in her bloodwork."

Finally, he raised his eyes to mine. "The doctor is doing her best with a difficult case. Your mother's injuries were severe."

I noticed how he avoided my gaze when he spoke about her treatment. Had I always been so blind?

---

The archive room was dusty and rarely used. I'd come to retrieve some old territorial agreements for Tyler's signature when I noticed a misfiled folder marked "Bradley Incident."

My hands trembled as I opened it. Inside were reports I'd never seen before—detailed accounts of movements near our territory in the days before the attack. My eyes caught on a name that appeared repeatedly: Sabrina Spencer.

"Suspicious communications detected between S. Spencer and known rogue mercenaries," I read aloud, my voice barely audible.

There were maps, transcripts of intercepted messages, even photographs of Sabrina meeting with men I recognized as rogues from wanted posters.

My blood ran cold. Sabrina—Tyler's chosen mate before me. The woman who still lived in our pack house, who smiled to my face while her eyes held something darker.

I gathered the documents with shaking hands and made my way to Tyler's office.

---

"Tyler," I said, pushing open his door without knocking. "I need to show you something."

He looked up, irritation flashing across his face before he masked it with concern. "What is it, April?"

I placed the documents on his desk, spreading them out so he couldn't miss the evidence. "Sabrina orchestrated the attack on my family. These are the proof."

His expression changed instantly—not shock or surprise, but something harder, colder. "Where did you get these?"

"From the archives. Tyler, she killed my father. She's the reason my mother—"

"Enough." His voice dropped an octave, filling the room with Alpha power that made my knees weak. "You will not speak of this to anyone. That's an order, Luna."

The Alpha command hit me like a physical blow. My wolf whimpered inside me, forced into submission by the compulsion.

"Tyler, please," I begged, tears streaming down my face as I fought against the command. "She destroyed my family. How can you protect her?"

His aura flooded the room with oppressive dominance. I couldn't breathe, couldn't stand. I collapsed to my knees before him, my body betraying me as the mate bond forced compliance.

"I said enough." He gathered the documents, tucking them into a drawer he locked with a key he kept on his chain. "You're forbidden from accessing the archives again."

---

I found Beta Marcus in the hallway later that night, his expression carefully neutral as I approached.

"Can I speak with you?" I asked, glancing around to ensure we were alone. "About something important."

"Of course, Luna." His tone was respectful but distant.

I leaned closer, lowering my voice. "I think Sabrina was behind the attack on my family. There's evidence—"

"Luna." He cut me off, his eyes darting toward Tyler's office door. "I don't think this is appropriate."

"Please," I whispered. "Just listen."

Marcus sighed, his shoulders tense. "I'm sorry, Luna. But my loyalty is to Alpha Tyler. If he hasn't acted on this information, there must be a reason."

"He's protecting her," I insisted.

"Then that's his decision to make." Marcus straightened, his expression closing off. "You should trust his judgment and focus on your Luna duties."

The betrayal of pack hierarchy cut deeper than I'd expected. Even Marcus, who had been kind to me over the years, wouldn't stand against Tyler's authority.

When I returned to our bedroom, Tyler was waiting. He sat on the edge of the bed, his expression unreadable as I entered.

"Marcus told me you were spreading rumors about Sabrina," he said quietly.

I touched my mating mark unconsciously, seeking comfort from our bond. His eyes followed the movement but he said nothing, the distance between us growing palpable as the silence stretched on.

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.