Rejected at Birth

Sebastian & Grace

Alpha Sebastian stood at the threshold of the infirmary, torn between duty and desire. The sterile scent of antiseptic stung his nostrils, a stark contrast to the wildness that surrounded their pack lands. Grace—the name whispered through his mind like a forbidden secret.

He’d found her on the edge of their territory, unconscious and vulnerable. The bond between them defied reason, tugging at his instincts. But Sebastian couldn’t ignore the past—the memories of his parents’ deaths at the hands of rogues. Mates or not, he struggled with the hate that simmered within him.

Bryce, his brother and Beta, had sensed the bond too. His curiosity had led him to Grace’s bedside, questioning the inexplicable connection. But Bryce didn’t know the truth—the depth of Sebastian’s conflict.

“Sebastian,” Grace murmured, her gray eyes searching his. “Who am I?”

He hesitated, his fingers brushing her cheek. “You confuse me, Grace. A rogue with no knowledge of what you are or why you're here. Yet, there’s a pull between us, one I cannot deny as much as the idea of trusting a rouge defies my every nature.”

Her lips curved in a fragile and nervous yet confused smile. “A bond.” I had heard of this once when my dad was drunk and talkative. He spoke of when he met my mother and how it felt like electricity was shooing through them whenever they touched. He described a scent no one else could sense but that aroma was better than anything he had ever smelled in his life. How just touching her made the rest of the world fall away. Then his eyes would glaze and he would growl before yelling his most recent variant of how my life took hers from him and how he hated the sight of her in me.

“Yes,” he admitted. “But it’s complicated. My parents—” He choked on the words. “They died because of rogues. Taken from me without warning, murdered.”

Grace’s touch ignited something within him. Looking at him, Grace began to shed tears. “I won’t hurt you, I simply want to belong. I have wanted a pack for as long as I can remember.”

He wanted to believe her. “And if the pack rejects you? If they learn the truth? What if they cannot accept a luna that comes from the same wolves that murdered their early alpha and luna?”

Her gaze held determination. “Then we face it together. Secrets thrive in shadows, Sebastian. Let’s bring them into the light. I don’t know what I am, I don’t know how to be a mate or a luna and, if I am honest, I don’t know what to expect from you or this supposed bond. What I do know is that I am caring, loyal and have nowhere else to go.”

He leaned down, his lips brushing hers. The pull intensified—a force beyond logic. “You’re dangerous,” he whispered. The struggle to separate himself from her as he questioned her and explained the connection, but also the reservations and complications that their bond could create in a world already so close to the brink of war.

“Maybe,” she replied. “But so are you.”

And in that dimly lit infirmary, Sebastian knew he was lost. The bond, the struggle—it defied reason, but reason had never held sway over matters of the heart. As he pulled away, he glimpsed the vulnerability in her eyes—the same vulnerability he’d seen in his parents’ faces before they were taken from him.

“Grace,” he said, his voice rough. “I can’t promise safety, all I can promise is that I will try with every breath to keep you safe. Our pack is wary of outsiders, especially rogues. But I’ll protect you as best I can, but to do this I need your trust, I need your honesty and your loyalty.

She nodded, her fingers tracing the scar on his forearm—the one he’d earned during a skirmish with a rival pack. Inhaling deeply as she continued the caress, he was not sure if she was even aware was happening as she spoke. “I don’t want your pity, Sebastian. Just honesty, I have questions and baggage and, if I am honest, I feel the connection and the pull almost as if there is a part of me drawn to you. What I don’t understand is why I feel the same pull towards Bryce, as though when one of you is missing I feel as though I am missing part of me, and it hurts.”

He admired her spirit. “Honesty, then. We’re mates, forever bound. But love? That’s a choice.”

Grace’s gaze held a mix of hope and fear. “And what if we choose love? What if we choose to try for a love that we both deserve? We could be happy.”

Sebastian’s heart clenched. “Then we choose fate, Grace. We fight for it. We bare ourselves to one another and lay it all on the table.”

And so, in the dimness of the infirmary, they forged an uncertain pact—a rogue and an Alpha, bound by more than duty. The shadows whispered secrets, and Sebastian wondered if their love could survive the war brewing that awaited them beyond the walls, or if their bigger problem would find them closer to home within their own pack. The unrest and balance fading as the days passed. They were running out of time. “Tell me Grace what brought you to me, why does your soul feel like its been shattered again and again?”

Chapter 10 Grace

The sterile scent of antiseptic clung to the air, a thin veil over the pain that seared through my body. The infirmary was a place of secrets—the kind that festered beneath bandages and whispered between the cracks of broken bones.

Sebastian sat by my bedside, his eyes tracing the jagged lines of my injuries. His presence was both a balm and a torment. I had never intended for this, battered and broken. But fate had other plans, and now I had no choice but to reveal the truth.

“Grace,” he said softly, his voice a threadbare whisper. “What happened?”

I hesitated, my fingers tracing the edge of the thin hospital sheet. The memories surged, a tempest threatening to drown me. “My father,” I began, my voice trembling. “He was a monster, Sebastian. Not just physically, but in every way that matters.”

The abuse, oh how it wove itself into the fabric of my existence. It began insidiously, like a spider spinning its web. From the moment my mother died—her life extinguished in childbirth—my father’s grief twisted into something monstrous. He blamed me, Sebastian, as if my birth had stolen her breath. The first slap across my face was a shock—a betrayal of the love I’d hoped for. But it escalated. Bruises blossomed on my skin, each one a testament to his rage.

When I turned sixteen, the abuse became a daily ritual. I woke before dawn, ensuring breakfast simmered and coffee brewed, all before he stirred from the couch where he drowned his sorrows. Avoidance became my art—I slipped through the house like a ghost, dodging his unpredictable moods. But there were nights when his drunken stupor led him to my room. Mistaking me for my mother, he crawled into my bed, and I lay there, frozen, praying for morning to erase the shame. Time and time again until most times he would call me her name. When this first began I fought and fought futilely against his wolf and their combined strengths. Eventually I learned my suffering was shorter and often less painful if I took it in silence. Crying in my time alone, never giving him the satisfaction of seeing how much he broke me.

And then came my seventeenth birthday—the age when wolves come into their own. I had dreamed of finding my mate, of escaping this life. But hope crumbled. I was a reject, unworthy of transformation. The night, I fled. The moon hung low, casting shadows as I stumbled through the woods. My father pursued me, his rage a consuming storm. He cornered me, Sebastian, and beat me until I couldn’t breathe. And then he left me there, bloodied and broken, thinking I’d die..

“But you survived,” he said, his gaze unwavering.

I nodded. “ praying someone would find me as the world darkened around me. your pack did and you brought me here. But the scars run deep. The trauma—the unspeakable things he did—it haunts me.”

Sebastian reached for my hand, his touch a lifeline. “You’re safe now, Grace. We’ll face this together.”

And in that dimly lit infirmary, I believed him. For the first time, I dared to hope that my shattered soul might find healing in his unwavering presence. But the shadows of my past clung to me, whispering that safety was a fragile illusion—one that could shatter at any moment.