Mark Me, Reject Me, Beg Me

The impact drives the air from my lungs as I hit the training mat, but I'm already rolling, using momentum to spring back to my feet. My opponent—a male warrior named Garrett who outweighs me by at least eighty pounds—charges again like a freight train with bad intentions. I wait until the last possible second, then drop and sweep his legs. He crashes down hard. Before he can recover, I'm on his back, forearm locked against his throat in a hold that would make him unconscious in about ten seconds. "Yield," I say quietly. He taps the mat twice. I release him immediately and offer my hand. "Damn, Isla." Garrett accepts the help up, rubbing his neck with a rueful grin. "You get faster every week. What are you, part cheetah?" "Just focused." I grab my water bottle from the bench, trying to slow my racing heart. Three years of training under the Alpha King's Elite program has made me lethal. Three years of proving I'm more than the broken girl who showed up at his gates, pregnant and desperate. Three years of building a life where no one can hurt me again. The scar tissue around my heart agrees. Mostly. "Good match, both of you." Delta Commander Ashford—Thorne to those of us lucky enough to call him friend—approaches with towels. His hazel eyes catch mine with that knowing look he gets when he thinks I'm pushing too hard. "Though maybe Garrett should stop betting against you. This is what, five losses in a row?" Garrett groans. "My wallet hates you both." I manage a smile, but it feels tight. The training cleared my head temporarily, but the nightmares from last night are still lurking. The same one I've had for three years: standing at that altar while Kade's voice echoes through the Great Hall. I reject this bond. "Isla." Thorne's voice cuts through the memory. "You good?" I nod, taking a long drink to avoid answering verbally. Thorne knows most of my history. Not all of it—nobody here knows everything—but enough that he watches me like I might shatter. I won't. I've already been broken once. You can't break the same way twice. The other warriors are filtering out of the training center, heading for showers and breakfast. I'm gathering my things when the scent hits: crisp mountain air and old paper. Messenger wolf. My stomach drops. The young wolf appears at the entrance, formal in his dark uniform bearing the Alpha King's insignia. His eyes scan the nearly empty room until they land on me. "Elite Warrior Isla Gray?" "That's me." I keep my voice steady even as Thorne moves closer, protective instincts kicking in. The messenger extends a sealed envelope. The crimson wax bears Alaric's personal seal: a crown over crossed swords. I stare at it like it might explode. In a way, it already has. "The Alpha King requires your immediate acknowledgment of receipt," the messenger says in that carefully neutral tone they all use. My fingers are steady as I break the seal. That's three years of practice. Inside, Alaric's sharp handwriting cuts straight to the point. Elite Warrior Gray, Your presence is required at Blackthorn Pack territory. Luna Serena Blackthorn has been afflicted with an unknown poison. Their healers believe your bloodline may provide the cure. You will depart at dawn. This is not a request. Alpha King Alaric Stone The paper crinkles as my grip tightens. Blackthorn Pack. Serena. The woman who stole my mate, wearing the title that should have been mine. And she's dying. "Isla?" Thorne's hand hovers near my shoulder but doesn't make contact. He learned early that I don't like being touched when I'm processing. "What's wrong?" "I need to go." The words come out flat. I fold the letter precisely, tucking it into my training bag. "Can you watch Asher tonight? I have something to handle." "Of course, but—" I'm already walking toward the doors that lead to the residential wing. My legs move on autopilot while my mind spins through implications like shuffling cards. Serena is dying. The pack that rejected me needs my help. Alaric is ordering me to return to the place I swore I'd never see again. And somewhere in that chaos of thoughts: a tiny, vicious part of me whispers that she deserves it. I hate that part. But I can't silence it. The residential wing is quieter, designed for families of the Elite Guard. My small apartment sits at the end of the third floor. I can hear Asher before I see him—his delighted laughter echoing from the common room where the older kids sometimes watch the younger ones. He spots me immediately, his mismatched eyes lighting up. One green like his father's, one silver like mine. The genetic lottery made sure no one could ever doubt his parentage, even if I've never spoken Kade's name aloud to my son. "Mama!" Asher barrels into my legs with the force of a small, enthusiastic battering ram. "Mrs. Chen let us have extra cookies because Tommy lost a tooth!" "Did she now?" I crouch to his level, smoothing back the distinctive white and black hair that marks him as different. Special. "And did you save any for me?" He considers this seriously, then shakes his head. "They were really good cookies." "Honest. I appreciate that." I pull him into a hug, breathing in the scent of him: honey and sunshine and home. He's the only good thing that came from that disaster three years ago. The only part I'd never take back. "When are we gonna visit the big wolves?" He asks suddenly, pulling back to look at me with those too-knowing eyes. "You said maybe someday we could see a real pack. With ceremonies and everything." My throat closes. He has no idea that he belongs to a pack. That his father is an Alpha who doesn't know he exists. That "someday" is a lie I tell to protect him from a truth that would complicate everything. "Maybe when you're older," I say, forcing lightness into my tone. "Big pack gatherings can be overwhelming." "I'm not scared." He puffs up his small chest. "Uncle Thorne says I'm brave." "Uncle Thorne is right." I kiss his forehead. "Now go play. I need to talk to Mrs. Chen about tomorrow." He scampers off, already distracted by another child calling his name. I watch him go, memorizing the carefree joy on his face. Twenty-four hours. That's all the time Alaric gave me to upend our lives. I retreat to our apartment and read the letter again, searching for loopholes. There aren't any. This is not a request. Alaric never makes empty threats. If I refuse, he'll find ways to make me comply. He holds too much power, knows too many of my secrets. Including the biggest one. The letter doesn't say how long I'll be gone. Doesn't specify what "cure" they need from me. Just demands my presence like I'm a tool to be deployed. I sink onto the couch, staring at the words until they blur. Serena dying shouldn't matter to me. The woman who smiled as Kade rejected me, who wore my title and slept in my bed and built a life on the ruins of mine—why should I care if she's suffering? But the hollowness in my chest isn't satisfaction. It's something colder. Emptier. Maybe because revenge fantasies are better than reality. Maybe because I'm not the vindictive monster I sometimes wish I could be. Or maybe it's because some part of me knows that going back there, seeing Kade again, will crack open wounds that never properly healed. A knock at the door startles me. Thorne lets himself in—one of the few people with that privilege. "You going to tell me what's in that letter?" He settles into the chair across from me, expression patient. "The Alpha King is sending me on assignment." Technically true. "I leave at dawn." "And Asher?" "I need you to watch him. I don't know how long I'll be gone." My voice nearly breaks on the last word, but I catch it. "Please, Thorne. You're the only one I trust with him." His face softens. "You know I'd do anything for that kid. For both of you." He leans forward, elbows on his knees. "But this assignment—it's dangerous, isn't it?" "Everything's dangerous." "Isla." I meet his eyes. Thorne has been my friend since day one. He taught me advanced combat, covered for me when morning sickness made me late to training, and never once asked for the whole story. He just stood beside me while I rebuilt myself. "It's the Blackthorn Pack." The words taste like ashes. "My old pack. They need... they need my help with something." Understanding dawns across his features. "Your mate's pack." "Former mate." The correction is automatic. "He rejected me, remember? No bond, no mate, no connection." "Except for Asher." My hands curl into fists. "Kade doesn't know about Asher. And he never will. This is a medical consultation, nothing more. I go in, I do the job, I come home." "You sure about that?" Thorne's voice is gentle. "Going back there—seeing him again—" "I'm sure." I have to be. "I'm not that broken girl anymore. I'm an Elite Warrior. I've faced rogue attacks, border disputes, and political nightmares. I can handle one dying Luna and her guilty Alpha." Thorne doesn't look convinced, but he nods. "When do you leave?" "Dawn. Alaric's orders." I pull out the letter, showing him the seal. "If I refuse, he'll make alternative arrangements. You know what that means." "He'll send you anyway, just without the illusion of choice." Thorne's jaw tightens. "I've never liked how he operates. You're a person, not a weapon." "Weapons are useful. People are expendable." I learned that lesson the hard way. "At least as a weapon, I have value." "You have value because you're you, Isla. Not because of what you can do for powerful men." I want to believe him. I do. But three years ago, the most powerful man in my life looked at me and decided I wasn't worthy. It's hard to forget that kind of lesson. "I should pack." I stand, needing movement. "And spend time with Asher before..." Before I walk back into the nightmare I escaped. Thorne rises too. "I'll bring him to my place tonight. Make it an adventure. That way you can leave early without him knowing you're gone." The kindness nearly undoes me. "Thank you." "That's what family does." He pulls me into a quick hug, professional and brief. "And Isla? Come back. That kid needs his mom." "I will." I say it with certainty I don't feel. "I promise." After he leaves, I stand at the window, watching Asher play in the courtyard below. His laughter drifts up, pure and uncomplicated. He has no idea that in a few hours, I'll be gone. That I'm returning to the place where his father destroyed me. That if Kade discovers his existence, everything could change. The letter sits on the table, Alaric's final line catching the fading light: Alternative arrangements will be made should you decline. I'm trapped. We both know it. Twenty-four hours until I face the mate who rejected me, the woman who replaced me, and the life I've spent three years trying to forget. I look at Asher one more time, memorizing his joy. He can never know where he comes from, I think. He can never know what his father did to us. Some truths are too dangerous to speak aloud. And some wounds never stop bleeding, no matter how well you hide them.