Bound By Rejection

Chapter 2: Pack Judgment

Time blurred inside the cell. It was a sensory-deprivation chamber designed to break a wolf.

Lyra lost count of the days, measuring her agony only by the timed hiss of the wolfsbane vents. Her silver chains had fused into her skin, leaving open, weeping sores. The constant, crippling ache was bad, but the un-severed mate bond was far worse. It pulsed like a gangrenous bruise in her chest, a constant, unwanted emotional tether to the monster who had put her here.

She was kept barely conscious, caught in a cycle of feverish defiance and suffocating despair. The silence was the worst torture. No guards came to check or mock. She was an inconvenience, a political problem they had shoved into stone and shadow to rot until Kael decided whether she lived or died.

He wants me to beg, she realized, teeth grinding on a bitter swallow. He wants the bond to drive me mad, to make me crawl back and accept his terms.

She fought back. Every time the wolfsbane haze lifted even slightly, she tried to summon her fire magic, a raw, volatile power inherited from a suppressed bloodline. But the silver was too efficient, a perfect counter to her power. The effort only sent agonizing, electrical spasms up her arms.

Let him rot with it too. She repeated the mantra until her voice was raw. Let the bond burn him just as it burns me.

The heavy, metallic groan of the iron hinges broke the monotony of her hell. Light speared across the floor, blinding in its intensity. Boots echoed, measured, firm, the confident, unforgiving tread of authority.

The Elders.

Maren, the lead Elder, stepped into view. Her silver hair was pulled into a flawless, intricate braid that spoke of old-world rigidity. Her eyes, like moonlit steel, held no sympathy. She was flanked by Thorne, a hulking male whose scarred jawline told tales of ancient, brutal pack justice, and Vex, the quiet Elder whose eyes seemed to pierce Lyra’s soul. They were the Council’s moral compass, tasked with balancing power, guarding the old laws, and supposedly, protecting the innocent.

They were her judge, jury, and executioners.

“You’ve been summoned for judgment,” Maren announced, her voice cold and resonant.

“Judgment?” Lyra’s voice was a rough rasp, barely louder than a whisper, but laced with unconcealed fury. She struggled to stand, the silver chains dragging against the stone floor. “You mean I was finally found innocent? You found proof that your Alpha lied?”

Thorne scoffed, his massive frame radiating contempt. “You are an omega with an uncontrolled bloodline, a disgrace to the mate bond, and a clear threat to the Alpha’s rule. You’re lucky to be alive, witch.”

“Lucky?” Lyra managed a weak, furious laugh. “For being chained in a hole for days? I’m grateful for your mercy, Elder. May the gods repay you in kind.”

The guards dragged her out of the cell. The transition to the Great Hall was a blur of excruciating pain. The silver chains were linked to a long pole, forcing her into a hunched, submissive posture. The hallway was lined with silent Pack members, wolves she had protected, fed, and healed. Now, their faces were a mixture of fear, judgment, and morbid curiosity. No one met her eyes.

She was led to the center of the hall. The air was thick with the scent of pine and polished stone, but Lyra could only smell her own blood and the lingering residue of wolfsbane.

Kael stood to the side, near the empty Luna throne, a rigid figure of indifference, clad in his black Alpha leathers. He was a pillar of unyielding authority. But Lyra, whose wolf could read his smallest change of breath, saw the white-knuckled grip he had on his sword hilt, and a subtle clench of his jaw when Thorne called her a "mad dog." His eyes were cold, amber ice, but beneath the surface, Lyra was certain his Alpha Wolf was screaming, a silent, furious protest against the political theater. And he was ignoring it. That was worse than any rejection.

“The Council has reviewed the circumstances,” Maren began, her voice carrying easily through the cavernous hall. “Your mate, Alpha Kael Thorn, was forced to use extreme measures to subdue you after you attacked his chosen Beta and defied the Alpha’s rule.”

“Lies!” Lyra’s voice cracked, but the truth made her lungs burn.

“Silence!” Thorne roared. “You tried to take the throne, not the Luna position. Your ambition corrupted you, just as your ancestors’ magic corrupted the old packs.”

Lyra felt the heat of fury burn away the last dregs of the wolfsbane haze. She strained against the chains, rising onto her shaking legs.

“Let me get this straight,” she said, her voice hoarse but gaining strength. “I was cheated on in my own chambers, assaulted with wolfsbane, and imprisoned by my mate. And your solution is to drag me out here to be chained like a rabid dog for the amusement of a pack too cowardly to look me in the eye?”

The crowd shifted nervously. Lyra had touched a nerve.

“You rejected your Alpha,” Thorne growled, stepping forward. “You defied the laws of the bond. You are a threat to all of us!”

“He broke it first!”

Kael finally spoke, his voice low, steady, and utterly devoid of warmth. His words were a lethal, calculated blow, designed to destroy her political standing forever. “Lyra Blackthorn suffers from an ancestral instability. She raised her voice in my chamber and, under the influence of her unstable magical bloodline, attempted to assault my Beta. I had no choice but to use force to protect the pack and the integrity of the line.”

The lie was delivered with such cold, authoritative conviction that the crowd visibly shuddered and pulled away from Lyra. The political betrayal was complete. He hadn't just cheated; he had fabricated an entire narrative of her madness to justify his crime.

“I defended myself!” Lyra spat. “He threw another woman at the only thing I trusted—the bond! The only thing I trusted in him!”

“Enough,” Maren cut her off, her face tight with distaste. “We’ve heard enough of your tantrums.”

Lyra’s lip curled, blood from her raw wrist staining the silver. “No, what you heard was a threat you couldn’t control. You never wanted a Luna with a mind of her own, Elder. Just another silent shadow to stroke the Alpha’s ego and bear his heirs. I refuse to be that shadow.”

“Silence her,” Kael said, the command cutting across the hall like a razor.

A guard immediately moved to strike her, his large hand raised.

Lyra’s body tensed as she prepared for the blow, but she didn’t flinch. She refused to give him the satisfaction.

The blow landed, a sickening crack that snapped her head sideways and split her lip open. The pain was immense, but she ignored it, focusing only on the metallic taste of her own blood.

The crowd gasped, the sound a mixture of shock and fearful release.

Lyra spat a stream of blood onto the cold, grey stone floor. Her eyes, burning with defiance, locked onto Kael’s face. She searched desperately for any flicker of the man she loved, any hint of the Alpha who had once worshiped her fire.

She found nothing. His face was a marble mask.

“Kill me, then,” she ground out, her voice tight with suppressed agony. “But when I rise again, gods help you all.”

Kael didn’t blink. “She’ll be held in the mountain cells until the full moon. Then, if her condition has not improved, the bond will be severed by force.”

Lyra’s heart seized in a painful, visceral clench.

Severed by force.

It wasn’t a rejection. It was a violation. It meant weeks of slow, crippling, soul-ripping agony that would maim her wolf, tear her magic from her body, and leave her a catatonic shell. They wouldn't kill her; they would break her soul and keep the pieces.

But she smiled anyway. It was a blood-soaked, defiant grin.

“Do it, Alpha,” she whispered, locking her eyes with his. “And pray I don’t survive it. Because if I do, I’ll find the poison they used to trick you, and I will hang you all from the tallest spire.”

The guards dragged her out, the sound of her chains echoing the death knell of her old life. Lyra didn’t look back. She didn’t need to. She still felt Kael's presence, agonizingly close, still bound to her, and the fire for revenge began to burn, hotter than any mate bond.