Fated Twice,Rejected Twice

CHAPTER 5

The maid's words swirled in my mind, clinging to me like a cold shroud that suffocated me.

Alpha Ronan wants to see you.

A snake of fear twisted in my stomach. It started cold, unyielding. My breathing hitched as I turned into Elara, my wide eyes seeking hers in mute appeal for reassurance. All I saw was pity. Her hands knitted together anxiously, as if she wanted to protect me, but knew she couldn't.

Ronan Harrow.

The name itself sent a violent shudder through me. The thought of standing before him being the focus of those cold, ruthless eyes was nearly more than I could bear. But I had no choice. This was his world, and I was trapped in it.

I forced myself to rise, though my legs were trembling beneath me. Elara and Milla flanked me, their presence a comfort and a cruel reminder at once of how helpless I was.

As we walked, the mansion seemed to close in around me. The corridors were dark and endless, the towering stone walls swallowed the faint torchlight. The air was thick with something unspoken fear, tension, resignation.

Elara leaned in close, whispering urgently, "Keep your eyes lowered when you see him. Do not speak unless spoken to."

I nodded stiffly, my throat too tight to respond.

How had Nayla lived like this? Always on edge, drowning in terror of her mate? The thought of being bound to a man who hated the very ground she walked on was abhorrent. And now… now that hatred was mine to bear.

Ahead, the heavy oak doors loomed before me, solid and impenetrable.

I swallowed hard as they creaked open.

A room that felt like being frozen on a battlefield greeted me as I stepped inside. Shadows of all sorts danced along stone walls, shading from an eerie blue fire that burned in the corner. The fire danced with ghosts, casting an unearthly glow that lent to the smothering feeling in the air.

And then I saw him.

Alpha Ronan.

He stood near the fire, the mass of his frame radiating raw power. Six-foot-three, broad-shouldered, every inch of him exuded dominance. His long black hair cascaded loosely down past his shoulders, framing a face that might have been carved from stone. Yet it was his eyes, piercing blue and wholly bereft of warmth, which ran my blood cold. They bored into me like some predator eyeing weak prey.

I barely managed to lower my gaze in time, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Silence stretched, thick and unbearable. Then—

“Nayla.”

Ronan’s voice was quiet. Too quiet. A low, dangerous growl that sent chills crawling down my spine.

“You’re still alive.”

The words sliced through the room like a blade, filled with something that wasn’t quite a surprise—more like a bitter disappointment.

The truth slammed into me like a punch to the gut.

He doesn't treat me like his mate. He doesn't even treat me like I'm human.

To Ronan, Nayla's continual survival was nothing but an irritation. Her existence had been a plight he had been set upon to bear.

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my ears. I needed to say something, but before I could get my mouth open, the door behind me opened.

A whole other kind of dread coiled in my belly.

She strode in like a queen surveying her kingdom, every movement deliberate, every step carrying the weight of someone who knew she belonged.

Her auburn hair cascaded in waves, her emerald-green eyes gleaming with sharp amusement. She was beautiful—dangerously so. And the moment her gaze landed on me, her lips curled into a smirk, dripping with venom.

"Well," she drawled, crossing her arms. "Look who's still breathing."

Her voice was like a whip of mockery, but it was the disgust beneath the tone that clutched my chest.

"I was starting to think that for once, you had done something useful, gotten rid of your miserable existence."

A hard, bitter laugh exploded from her lips as she moved closer. "But of course, even in dying, you failed."

My fists clenched at my sides, my nails burrowing into the tender skin of my palms. Who the hell is this woman?

More importantly-what did Nayla do to her to deserve this degree of hatred?

Sheila's words cut into me with every painful syllable-a rude reminder of a life Nayla had lived. I kept my gaze fixed on the floor, my hands curled into fists, and didn't give her any satisfaction of witnessing my breakdown.

"But no," she spat, her eyes glinting as she stepped closer, lowering her voice to a taunting whisper. "You're too weak to even die properly. How pathetic."

A wave of humiliation crashed over me. My chest constricted, shallow breathing, but before I could react—

Silence.

The air in the room shifted, thick with something dangerous. I risked a glance up to find Ronan staring at Sheila, his face dark and unreadable. The temperature seemed to plummet.

"That's enough, Sheila."

His voice was cold. No anger, no emotions a quiet, unshakeable command.

Sheila stiffened. The smirk slipped from her face as she quickly averted her eyes, her body rigid with tension. She had overstepped, and even she wasn't immune to Ronan's wrath.

For all her cruelty, she knew her place.

The space between us weighed as Ronan's eyes turned back to mine. My heartbeat pounded inside my ears. He studied me as if weighing if I was even worth a second of his time.

Then, his lips curved in something not quite a smile.

"Why are you here?" His voice came flat. Uninterested.

I swallowed, my throat painfully dry. "I… I came to pay my respects, Alpha," I managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper. "As I was told to do."

A low, mirthless laugh escaped him. It was worse than if he had shouted-bitter, taunting, slicing through the chill in the air.

"Respect?" His head tilted, a flicker of amusement lighting his eyes. "You think I care for such trivialities?

There was nothing but contempt in his tone, and something inside of me contracted painfully. I could feel Nayla's despair rise and twist with my own.

But before I had a reply, he turned his back on me. Just like that. As if I wasn't even worth looking at.

"Take her back to her chambers," he said, his voice as empty as the wind outside.

Elara and Milla stepped forward, their hands clamping around my arms firmly but gently. I was numb, a web of emotion snarled around my brain and refused to budge.

But before I'd taken a single step, the sharp pain radiated up my arm.

Sheila.

The nails dug deeper into my skin, her breathing hot against my ear as she leaned in close, her voice nothing more than a venomous hiss.

You're nothing, Nayla, she spat, her words bitter. A mistake. An embarrassment. You don't belong here, and you never will.

The words cut like venom, sharp, and burning. But I forced my face to remain a mask, not allowing her to see the c***k in the armor. Sheila.

Ronan's voice was as sharp as steel, cutting through the tension. Sheila let go instantly, her fingers leaving a stinging imprint on my skin. She turned to him, but there was something almost like fear in her eyes.

"If you embarrass me one last time," he said, his voice dangerously calm, "I will take your head.

A shudder ran through the room. Every head bowed. Sheila's face went white, her lips pursed into a thin line as she dropped into a quick curtsy, her whole attitude changing in subjugation.

Then—

"Nayla."

I froze.

Ronan's voice was different this time, colder than before, laced with something I couldn't name.

His gaze stabbed into me, his expression unreadable.

Can't you even stand up for yourself?" he asked, his brows drawing together. "You are too weak to be my mate."

The air left my lungs.

His next words came like a blade to the chest.

"I, Ronan Harrow, Alpha of the Wild Ferals, reject you as my mate."

The room fell into absolute silence.

The shock of it stole my breath. My mind reeled, my body locked in place.

Then, something inside me snapped.

"No!

The word tore from my throat, raw and desperate, a faint echo off the cold stone walls. I barely knew my own voice.

Ronan's head leaned; those sharp, piercing blue eyes narrowed.

But I was nowhere near done.

"I." My breath shook with ragged gulps of air. I dug my shoulders back, grasping onto the smallest shred of strength left inside me.

"Nayla." The voice shook a bit, but I pushed on.

"I reject your rejection."

Oppressive, taut, and piling in from every direction, it was.

I locked eyes with Ronan, refusing to back down.

I would not let this happen to me all over again.