Rejected Exiled And Claimed

Chapter 5: Under the Nightbane Roof

When I woke again, it was to warmth, clean sheets, and a ceiling painted soft gray.

For one blurred second, I didn’t understand what I was looking at. The mattress beneath me was too soft. The blanket was too heavy, too warm, too expensive-feeling to belong to any room I had ever slept in. A dim wall lamp glowed near the bed, casting amber light across smooth floors, pale walls, and furniture so modern and clean it made my chest tighten before memory even caught up.

Then it did.

The forest.

The black wolf.

The dark gold eyes.

The crushing pain of the rejection still living under my ribs.

I jerked upright.

Pain tore through me so hard I nearly screamed.

A broken gasp ripped from my throat instead. My hand flew to my chest on instinct, fingers pressing uselessly against the place that still felt flayed open from the inside. My body folded before I could stop it, and suddenly I was bent over in a bed that was not mine, in a room I did not know, trying not to choke on the pain and panic all at once.

“Don’t do that.”

The voice came from my right.

Female. Flat. Unimpressed.

I snapped my head toward it too fast and immediately regretted it.

A woman sat in a chair near the wall, one leg crossed over the other, a tablet balanced against her knee. She looked to be in her twenties, maybe older, with dark hair pulled into a severe ponytail and dark green scrubs under a black zip-up jacket. Practical. Clean. Professional. Her expression suggested I was being inconvenient in a way she had expected.

A healer.

I scanned the rest of the room automatically.

Large bed.

Side table.

Another chair.

A closed bathroom door.

A long counter along the far wall with medical supplies, sealed packs, bottles, and neatly stacked towels.

No bars on the window, but it was shut and probably locked.

One main door.

No obvious weapons.

My pulse thudded hard against my throat.

“Where am I?” I asked.

The woman set the tablet aside and stood. “Medical wing. Nightbane Pack compound.”

The words made something cold slide through my stomach.

No.

No, no, no.

I shoved the blanket off my legs.

The room tilted immediately.

My feet touched the floor for barely half a second before weakness surged up through my body, sharp and humiliating. My knees gave. I caught myself against the side of the bed, teeth gritted so hard my jaw hurt.

The healer sighed like she had already seen this exact scene play out in her head and was disappointed to be right.

“You really want to make this harder than it has to be.”

“I need to leave.”

“No, you need to sit down before you c***k your head open.”

I glared at her. “You don’t get to decide that.”

“No,” she said, moving toward me with controlled efficiency, “your body does. And right now your body says you’re one bad breath away from collapsing.”

“I don’t care.”

“That’s obvious.”

Her hands hovered near my arm but didn’t touch me. Smart. “Get back in bed.”

I hated that she was right. Hated even more that my body was proving her right in real time. My legs shook violently. Cold sweat had broken out across my skin. The pain under my ribs pulsed hot and vicious with every heartbeat, dragging the memory of Blaze’s voice right back through me.

Before Mother Moon, I reject you as my mate.

My stomach lurched.

I sat down before I fell down.

The healer handed me a glass of water from the bedside table. “Drink.”

I stared at it.

Her brows lifted. “It’s water, not a trap.”

I snatched it anyway and drank too fast. The water was cold and clean and real enough to make this whole thing feel worse. When I lowered the glass, my hand was shaking.

I put it down before she could notice.

She noticed.

“Good,” she said. “Now stop trying to escape a room you can’t walk out of.”

I looked up at her, pulse still running wild. “Who are you?”

“Intermediate healer.”

“That wasn’t the question.”

She crossed her arms. “Mara.”

“Mara,” I repeated, the name dry in my mouth. “Great. Now tell me why I’m here.”

Her gaze flicked briefly to the marks on the monitor clipped beside the bed. I hadn’t even noticed it until then. Of course I hadn’t. I’d been too busy trying not to fall apart.

“You were found unconscious in the forest,” she said. “Hypothermic, dehydrated, exhausted, bruised, and in worse shape internally than you looked externally.”

I went still.

“Found by who?”

A beat passed.

Then, “The alpha.”

Something sharp moved low in my chest. Not the bond. I refused to name it that. It was only reaction. Shock. Fear. Some leftover animal response to waking up in enemy territory after being carried there by a giant black wolf.

Still, my voice came out tighter when I said, “Lucian Nightbane.”

Mara’s expression didn’t change, but something in her silence confirmed it.

I looked away from her and toward the window.

The curtains were half open. Beyond the glass, I could see night and the edge of another building lit by white security lights. Not cabins. Not ruins. Not some ancient pack village hidden in trees. This was a real compound—modern, built, organized. The thought should have been grounding.

It wasn’t.

It only made my situation feel more real.

“Why would he bring me here?” I asked.

“That,” Mara said, “is not above my pay grade, but it is definitely above what I’m willing to discuss.”

Despite everything, I stared at her. “Do all your answers sound like that?”

“Only the good ones.”

I should not have almost laughed.

The fact that I almost did made me angrier.

I looked down at myself and froze.

Someone had changed my clothes.

I was wearing a plain oversized black shirt and soft gray lounge pants that definitely did not belong to me. My throat tightened immediately.

Mara followed my gaze. “You were freezing, half-conscious, and covered in dirt. We changed you because leaving you like that would’ve been stupid.”

Heat rushed into my face, hot and ugly. “I could have done it myself.”

“Not while unconscious.”

“I still didn’t ask for it.”

“No,” she said, not unkindly, just factual, “but you weren’t in a position to be consulted.”

Humiliation crawled over my skin.

I turned my face away, jaw tight enough to ache. My body felt too exposed, too unfamiliar, too vulnerable beneath all this unwanted care. I didn’t know what was worse—that strangers had seen me weak, or that they had helped me anyway.

“No one here is trying to humiliate you,” Mara said after a moment.

The words hit too close.

A bitter laugh slipped out before I could stop it. “That would be a nice change.”

Silence.

I could feel her looking at me.

I hated the quiet that followed even more than I hated the sympathy I thought might come with it. But Mara didn’t offer pity. Didn’t give me that soft, careful voice people used when they thought someone was too broken to handle the truth.

Good.

I didn’t think I could survive pity tonight.

“So,” I said, forcing my voice steadier than it felt, “how bad is it?”

Mara’s eyes sharpened. “The bond damage?”

I nodded once.

She hesitated, and that was enough to make my stomach drop.

“Bad,” she said finally. “You’re stable. But the trauma response is severe. Your vitals spike every time the pain flares. Your wolf response is... muted.”

Muted.

The word hit like a bruise.

My wolf had been too quiet ever since the rejection. Too far away. I had felt her pain, yes, but not her the way I always had before. Not clearly. Not fully.

My voice came out rough. “Will it stay that way?”

Mara didn’t answer immediately.

That was answer enough.

A pressure built behind my eyes so suddenly I had to look away. Not now. I would not break in front of her. I had done enough of that alone in the forest.

“What else?” I asked.

“Bruised ribs. Shoulder strain. Exhaustion. Dehydration. Stress crash.”

I almost smiled at that one. “Stress crash?”

“You were rejected, exiled, and found half-dead in the woods.” Mara arched a brow. “What would you call it?”

Fair.

I pressed my lips together and stared at the blanket gathered around my waist. Dark charcoal. Soft. Expensive. Everything about this room felt too controlled. Too calm. Too unlike the chaos in my chest.

“Can I leave in the morning?” I asked.

“No.”

I looked up sharply. “No?”

“No.”

“Is that a medical no or a pack alpha no?”

Mara’s mouth twitched faintly. “Both.”

Anger flashed through me, bright enough to cut through the exhaustion. “He can’t keep me here.”

Mara gave me a long, unreadable look. “You crossed into Nightbane territory unconscious. He brought you in. You’re injured. And whether you like it or not, this pack is now responsible for what happens to you while you’re under its roof.”

“I didn’t ask for that.”

“No,” she said again. “You didn’t.”

The room went very quiet.

My fingers curled into the blanket. “I want my things.”

“You didn’t have any.”

That hit harder than it should have.

Of course I didn’t. What exactly had I thought exile looked like? A suitcase? A packed bag? I had left Evercrest with a rough cloak and a shredded heart and not much else.

Mara must have seen something shift in my face, because her tone changed, just slightly.

“We can get you clothes,” she said. “Basic things. Later.”

I nodded once because speaking suddenly felt dangerous.

A soft vibration sounded from the counter behind her. She glanced at a phone screen lighting up beside a stack of gauze, then back at me.

“He knows you’re awake,” she said.

My whole body went still.

I didn’t have to ask who.

A pulse beat once, heavy and traitorous, beneath the pain in my chest.

“When is he coming?” I asked.

Mara picked up the phone, checked the screen, then slid it into her pocket. “Soon.”

The word dropped into the room like a warning.

I should have been thinking strategy. Escape routes. Questions. What to say, what not to say, how much weakness to hide. Instead, all I could think about was the forest. Black fur. Dark gold eyes. The impossible weight of him beneath my hands when he carried me. The way my body had reacted to his scent before pain drowned everything else.

I hated that memory.

I hated more that I hadn’t imagined it.

Mara moved toward the door. “Try not to stand up again.”

I looked at her sharply. “That’s it?”

“For now.”

“You’re just leaving me here?”

Her hand closed around the handle. “You’re not alone, Anastasia.”

Then she stepped out, and the door shut softly behind her.

I stared at it.

My heart was beating too fast again.

The room felt smaller all at once. Warmer too, but not in a comforting way. More like the air itself had started waiting with me.

Lucian Nightbane was coming.

And for the first time since waking up, fear wasn’t the only thing knotting in my stomach.