Rescued by the Blackridge Alpha

Chapter 5

For one strange second, nothing happened. Then pain ripped through my chest.

My knees gave out before I could catch myself. The ceremonial stones struck hard beneath them, but the impact barely registered. I pressed a hand against my ribs and tried to breathe through the sudden, vicious pressure there.

Around me, Silvercrest had gone silent. Of course they had. Nothing drew a crowd quite like the future Alpha rejecting the Omega the Moon Goddess had chosen for him.

“Maren.”

Caden was suddenly in front of me. He held out his hand.

I stared at it.

His fingers were shaking.

Maybe I should have taken it. Maybe refusing was childish when I could barely get enough air into my lungs, but something inside me recoiled at the thought of letting him pull me upright after he'd been the one to put me there.

I planted my palm against the stone instead.

“I've got it.”

“Maren, let me help you,” Caden said, lowering his voice.

“No.”

I pushed myself up before my legs were ready. The courtyard tilted slightly, forcing me to lock my knees until it settled again.

Caden's hand remained between us for another moment.

Then he lowered it.

I didn't look at him. I couldn't. Instead, my gaze found the crowd, and that was somehow worse.

Nobody seemed to know what to do with their face.

Some wolves stared openly. Others looked away as soon as I caught them. A woman near the back whispered something to her mate, while one of the older council members watched me with the sort of sympathy usually reserved for funerals.

I wanted them to laugh. I could have hated them for laughing.

Pity left me nowhere to put my anger.

“Maren.”

This time the voice came from behind Caden.

Rosalie.

I looked over.

She had left her parents and was coming toward me, lifting the skirt of her blue dress as she crossed the uneven stones. Tears glistened on her cheeks.

For one awful second, I saw her at seventeen again, sprawled across her bed while she described white roses and three children.

I couldn't do this.

Not here.

Not with her.

Rosalie had barely reached the circle when I turned away. “Maren, wait.”

I didn't. The crowd opened for me. Nobody tried to stop me as I pushed through the first row of wolves, then the second. Someone said my name. Another person touched my arm, but I pulled free without seeing who it was.

By the time I reached the packhouse, I was running.

I went through the kitchen door.

Of course I did.

I could have gone home. I could have found somewhere private to fall apart, but my feet carried me to the same place they always did.

The kitchen was almost empty. Most of the staff were outside for the ceremony, leaving behind counters covered with the remains of the evening's work. Two bowls sat soaking beside the sink. A basket of unused napkins had been abandoned on the table, and someone had left a tray of pastries uncovered.

I stopped in the middle of the room.

The familiar smell of bread, rosemary and woodsmoke should have helped.

It didn't. My chest still hurt.

I reached automatically for the cloth beside the pastries and pulled it over them.

There.

At least one problem in my life remained easily solved.

I straightened the cloth. Then straightened it again.

My hands wouldn't stop shaking.

“Nia?”

Nothing.

I stilled.

Until that moment, I hadn't noticed the silence inside me. There had been too much noise in the courtyard. Too many people, too much pain, too much effort spent getting from there to here without breaking apart in front of everyone.

Now the kitchen was quiet enough for me to realize that I couldn't feel her.

“Nia?”

I closed my eyes and reached for the place she always occupied.

She had never truly been silent before. Annoyed, yes. Sulking, frequently. She had once refused to speak to me for an entire afternoon because I'd ignored her demands to steal a chicken leg from Cook's kitchen.

But even then, I'd felt her.

Now there was nothing.

The kitchen door opened behind me.

I turned so quickly that my hip struck the table.

Cook stood in the doorway. Her eyes moved over me once. The green dress. My bare hands. Whatever expression I hadn't managed to hide quickly enough. She closed the door.

“Oh, Maren.”

That was worse than anything Caden had said.

I turned back toward the table and fussed with the cloth covering the pastries. “They were drying out.”

Cook didn't answer.

“Whoever left them like this should know better,” I continued. “You spent all afternoon making those.”

“Maren.”

“And the bowls need washing.”

“Maren...”

“I can do them.”

Cook crossed the kitchen and took the cloth from my hands.

I held on.

She tugged once.

I let go.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. Cook folded the cloth with the same irritating precision she applied to everything else, placed it on the table and looked at me.

“How is Nia?”

My mouth opened. Nothing came out.

Cook's expression changed.

I looked down at my hands.

“She won't talk to me.” The words were barely audible.

Cook stepped closer. “Give her time.”

“I can't feel her.”

Saying it aloud made it real. My vision blurred.

I blinked hard and stared at the wooden table until the grain came back into focus.

“She was there and then she just...” I pressed my lips together. “She's gone.”

“She isn't gone.” Cook's voice had none of its usual sharpness. “She's hurt.”

“So am I.”

“I know.”

That nearly did it.

Cook reached for me, and this time I didn't move away. I let her pull me against her, my forehead coming to rest against her shoulder.

I managed perhaps three breaths.

Then the kitchen door slammed open.

“I am going to kill him.”

Cook released me with a sigh.

Lottie stormed inside with her cheeks flushed and half her hair falling from the pins she'd spent an hour putting in.

“You're not going to kill anyone,” Cook told her.

“That was the worst thing I've ever seen.” She grabbed my hands before I could stop her. “Who does that? In front of everyone? He could have spoken to you privately. He could have given you time. He could have—”

“Lottie.”

Cook's warning did nothing.

“And Garrick just stood there,” Lottie continued. “Of course he did. Goddess forbid an Ashford ever considers that someone without a title might have feelings.”

“Lottie,” Cook repeated.

“What? I'm right.” A laugh escaped me.

It was tiny and sounded dangerously close to a sob, but it was a laugh.

Lottie's anger faltered. “Don't cry.”

She immediately pulled me into a hug.

For perhaps thirty seconds, standing between Lottie's arms and Cook's kitchen, I could pretend the rest of Silvercrest didn't exist.

Then the door opened again.

Lottie released me.

My uncle stood in the doorway. Thomas hadn't changed out of the dark formal clothes he'd worn for the ceremony. He filled most of the doorway, one hand still resting on the handle.

His gaze found mine. Then dropped.

That was enough to make the small amount of comfort I'd found disappear.

Cook planted both hands on the table. “What do you want, Thomas?”

My uncle glanced at her. “Garrick wants to see Maren.”

“Then Garrick can wait until morning.”

“He can't.”

Cook's expression hardened. “She was rejected ten minutes ago.”

“I know.”

“Then give the girl ten damn minutes.”

Thomas's jaw worked.

I'd seen that expression throughout my childhood. Usually when Aunt Helena had asked him a question he didn't want to answer.

Something was wrong.

Again.

I stepped away from Lottie. “Why does Garrick want me?”

My uncle finally looked at me. “We need to decide what we're going to do with you.”

For a moment, I thought I'd misheard him.

“What you're going to do with me?”

Thomas blinked. A flicker of regret crossed his face, but he didn't take the words back.

“The rejection changes things,” he said. “Garrick will explain.”

My throat was too sore to ask for an explanation, so I followed him.

Garrick was already behind his desk when we entered his office.

My uncle closed the door behind us and remained beside it. Caden hadn't followed us inside. For that, at least, I was grateful.

Garrick folded his hands on the desk. "Maren, I'm not going to waste your time.” He sighed. “You were rejected by the future Alpha of Silvercrest, that leaves us with a problem.”

I stared at him.

A problem.

The pain in my chest had settled into a dull throb now, but I pressed my hand against it anyway.

“I didn't ask him to reject me.”

“I know.”

“I didn't ask to be his mate either.”

“That isn't relevant.”

I glanced toward my uncle.

He was studying the floor.

Of course.

I looked back at Garrick. “Then what is relevant?”

He leaned back in his chair. “You've lost your opportunity for a mate bond within Silvercrest. Caden will become Alpha, and we can't risk his wolf remaining in constant proximity to yours.”

My fingers curled against my dress. "So you want me to leave.”

Garrick didn't answer immediately. That was when I knew there was more.

“You have no parents to advocate for you,” he said. “No mate. No position within the pack that can't easily be filled.”

Behind me, Thomas shifted.

Garrick continued before I could interrupt him. “You're an Omega, Maren, Silvercrest has protected and provided for you since you were a child, but under the circumstances, there is no longer a place for you here.”

Protected and provided for me.

I thought of flour beneath my fingernails. Burns on my hands. Winters spent getting up before sunrise because two hundred wolves expected breakfast.

I'd always thought I was working for my place here.

Apparently, I'd misunderstood that too.

“So you're banishing me.”

“No.”

I glanced at Thomas again. “Then what?”

Garrick drew a breath. “You'll be placed in a pack transfer.”

I frowned. “Placed where?”

“That will depend on who takes you.”

“Who takes me?”

Garrick's gaze remained steady.

“A receiving pack will pay Silvercrest a transfer fee. In return, your bond to this pack will be dissolved and transferred to theirs.”

For a moment, the only sound in the office was the faint crackle of the fire.

Pay Silvercrest.

I looked from Garrick to my uncle. Neither man corrected the meaning forming in my head.

My stomach turned.

“You're selling me.”