Rejected By My Alpha, Claimed By His Enemy

Let The Rejection Begin!!!

Freya's POV

“You’re… *him*. Damon’s enemy.”

Adrian’s lips curved into a humorless half-smile.

“Among other things.”

A strange, broken laugh escaped me.

“Of course. Of course the only person who would speak to me with basic decency tonight is the one man the Alpha King despises more than anything.”

Adrian’s expression softened, just slightly.

“I’m not being kind because I hate Damon.”

“Then why?” My voice cracked. “Why waste your time on the rejected, disgusting Omega everyone is laughing at inside?”

He stepped closer. Close enough that I could smell his scent — deep pine, rain-soaked earth, and something darker, like smoldering embers. It didn’t make my wolf scream the way Damon’s had. It felt… safe.

“Because what he did was wrong,” Adrian said quietly. “Rejecting a mate is one thing. Humiliating her in front of the entire nobility, tearing her apart for something she cannot change — her body, her rank — that is something else entirely.”

No one had said that.

Not my father, who had looked away in shame.

Not the elders.

Not even the servants who had once pretended to be my friends.

My throat tightened painfully. Tears spilled over again.

“You don’t have to feel sorry for me,” I choked out.

“I don’t.”

His answer surprised me so much I blinked.

He continued, voice steady and deep.

“I don’t pity you, Freya. Pity is for the weak. You stood up after the bond was severed. Most wolves collapse for days after a rejection that brutal. You got back on your feet. You looked him in the eye and walked out with whatever dignity you had left.”

My lips trembled.

“Barely,” I whispered.

“But you did it,” he said. His dark eyes bored into mine with an intensity that made my heart stutter. “You walked away from the most powerful Alpha alive while every wolf in that hall mocked you. That’s not weakness. That’s strength most of them will never possess.”

Something deep inside my chest — something I thought had died with the bond — shifted painfully.

Not the mate bond.

Something quieter.

Something warmer.

*Hope.*

I immediately crushed it. I couldn’t survive hoping again.

“I don’t need anyone’s respect,” I said, but my voice wavered.

“Maybe not,” Adrian replied softly. “But you damn well deserve it.”

He turned to leave, coat flaring behind him.

Then he paused, broad back facing me.

“Whatever you decide to do next, Freya Voss… don’t let them break you. The Moon Goddess doesn’t make mistakes. Even if that bastard in there is too blind and arrogant to see it.”

His silhouette melted into the darkness.

I stood there long after he disappeared, heart pounding with emotions I didn’t understand.

For the first time since Damon had ripped my soul apart, I wasn’t thinking about the Alpha King’s cruel words or the laughter that had followed.

I was thinking about a stranger who had looked at me — *really* looked at me — and seen something worth respecting.

My wolf stirred weakly.

*He was different.*

“Yes,” I whispered, voice cracking.

*He didn’t hate us.*

“No.”

*Maybe—*

“Don’t,” I hissed, tears falling faster. “We are *not* doing this again. I can’t… I can’t survive another person making me believe I’m worth loving, only to destroy me.”

I picked up the torn edge of my ruined dress like a wounded soldier gathering broken armor.

Then I walked.

I walked away from the palace, away from the laughter, away from the mate who had publicly declared me repulsive.

I didn’t know where I would go.

I didn’t know how I would survive tomorrow.

But I knew one thing with bone-deep certainty:

I would never return to this place willingly.

---

**Three Months Later**

The silver blade plunged deep into my stomach.

I looked down in shock as crimson bloomed across the front of my white dress like a deadly flower.

“Elara…” I gasped, blood bubbling up my throat.

My beautiful stepsister stood before me, tears streaming down her flawless face. But those tears weren’t for me. They were for herself — for being caught.

“You weren’t supposed to find out,” she whispered, voice shaking. “None of this was supposed to happen like this.”

Behind her, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, stood Damon.

My fated mate.

My Alpha King.

The man who had rejected me so viciously that the scar still burned in my soul every single day.

His face was a mask of ice. He wouldn’t even look at me.

“Damon…” I choked, staggering backward. Blood soaked through my fingers as I clutched the wound. “You… you *knew*?”

The silence that followed was more damning than any confession.

My vision blurred with agony and betrayal.

“After everything she did to me… after every cruel word, every humiliation, every time she made sure I knew I was worthless… you *knew* she was plotting against me? Against the entire pack?”

Elara sobbed louder, the picture of a tragic heroine.

“I didn’t have a choice, Freya! They would have killed me if I didn’t—”

“You *always* have a choice!” I screamed, voice breaking as blood trickled from the corner of my mouth. I looked straight at Damon, the man who had once been my entire future. “Tell her! Tell her she had a choice! Or are you so disgusted by me that you’d rather watch me die than admit you were wrong?”

Damon finally lifted his silver eyes to mine.

There it was — the faintest flicker of regret.

But it was far too little.

And much too late.

“I’m sorry, Freya,” he said, voice hollow.

The words shattered what little remained of my heart.

Elara yanked the blade free with a sickening wet sound.

White-hot pain exploded through my entire body. I collapsed to my knees, then fell sideways. The cold floor rushed up to meet me.

The last thing I saw was the full moon watching indifferently through the tall window.

The last thing I heard was Damon’s broken whisper.

“Freya…”

Then —

Nothing but darkness.

---

I woke up gasping.

Sunlight streamed through familiar pink curtains, warm and gentle across my face.

My heart slammed against my ribs as I shot upright in bed.

I knew this room.

The old wooden desk covered in faded notebooks. The small silver-framed photo beside the bed — me at eighteen, smiling shyly on what should have been the happiest night of my life.

My hands began to shake violently.

“No… no, this isn’t possible…”

I scrambled out of bed so fast I nearly tripped, rushing to the full-length mirror on the wall.

The girl staring back at me was young.

Eighteen.

Unscarred.

Alive.

No stab wound. No blood. No three years of running, hiding, and slowly dying inside.

I touched my face, my stomach, my chest — searching for proof that what I had lived through was real.

Nothing.

My wolf suddenly surged forward with a strength I had never felt before.

*Freya.*

Her voice was no longer weak or broken.

It was powerful. Clear. *Furious.*

*We’re back.*

My heart thundered so hard I could barely breathe.

I snatched my phone from the nightstand.

The date glowed on the screen.

**Three years before my death.**

**Three months before I would meet Adrian again in that moonlit courtyard.**

**And tonight…**

Tonight was the night Damon Blackthorne would reject me all over again.

A slow, dangerous smile curved my lips.

This time, I remembered *everything*.

Every vicious insult about my body.

Every cruel laugh.

Every betrayal.

Every tear I had shed on that cold stone ground.

And most importantly — I remembered the man who had stood in the shadows and told me I deserved respect.

Adrian Blackthorn.

I wiped the last of my tears from my face with the back of my hand.

“No more begging for love,” I whispered to my reflection.

My wolf growled deep and low, a sound full of three years’ worth of rage and pain.

*No more trusting blindly.*

I nodded, eyes hardening.

“No more dying.”

For the first time in my life, when I looked at my reflection — at my full curves, my soft stomach, my wide hips — I didn’t see the rejected, undesirable Omega everyone had mocked.

I saw a woman who had died once.

A woman who had been given a second chance by the Moon Goddess herself.

A woman who was no longer going to follow the tragic path written for her.

If Damon wanted a beautiful, graceful Luna who would make him look powerful…

He could have Elara.

If my stepsister wanted my place, my pain, my destiny…

She could fight for it — and this time, I would make sure she paid in blood.

And if Adrian Blackthorn was destined to become my enemy in this new life…

Then I would make damn sure he never got the chance to become my executioner.

I picked up the burgundy dress I had cried over while sewing it three weeks ago.

This time, I held it up with a predatory smile.

“Let the rejection begin.”