The Rejected Bloodline Mate: Path of the Forsaken

Chapter 2 - A New Path

The bond still burned where it had been ripped from my chest.

Not sharp or clean, but lingering—raw and wrong—like something that should still be there but wasn’t. Every breath felt off, hollowed out by what had just happened, too shallow one moment and too heavy the next, as if my body hadn’t quite figured out how to exist without it yet.

I didn’t stop walking.

I couldn’t.

Step after step carried me away from the pack house, away from the whispers already starting to spread, away from Brian and his arrogance.

Good.

Let them keep their perfect little world.

I wasn’t part of it anymore.

The thought should have hurt more than it did. Instead, it settled into something colder, something final, like a decision my body had made before my mind could catch up.

I needed space. Not the kind filled with pitying looks and hushed voices as people watched me pass, waiting for me to break. Real space. The kind that didn’t judge, didn’t expect anything, didn’t care whether I fell apart or held myself together.

The old cabin near the creek, Anita’s voice echoed softly through our link, quieter than I had ever felt her.

The only place that had ever truly felt like it belonged to me—to us.

Hidden deep in the forest, swallowed by twisted trees and thick undergrowth, it had never been part of the pack’s territory in any real sense. If it had ever appeared on a map, it hadn’t stayed there long.

Wolves avoided that part of the woods.

They always had.

Haunted, they said.

A ridiculous thing for wolves to fear, considering the world we lived in held far worse things than ghosts.

I had made sure those stories stayed alive.

A broken window here. Strange noises in the night there. Just enough truth mixed with exaggeration to keep curiosity away. At first, it had been childish—something close to a game—but over time, it became useful.

Eventually, it became mine.

And tonight, I needed it more than ever.

The wooden door creaked as I pushed it open and stepped inside. Dust drifted through the dim light spilling in from a cracked window, while the scent of damp wood and pine wrapped around me like something familiar.

Grounding.

Safe.

Mine.

I lowered myself onto the floor, the worn wood cool beneath me, and let the silence settle.

Not the suffocating kind.

Not the kind that pressed in until it felt like the walls were closing.

This silence didn’t expect anything from me. It didn’t demand strength or patience or control.

It simply… existed.

For the first time since the pack hall, my shoulders loosened slightly.

Anita stirred.

She didn’t speak at first, but she didn’t need to. Her presence curled around me, steady and warm, a quiet reassurance threading through the hollow space where the bond had been.

I’m here.

I closed my eyes.

“Yeah,” I murmured. “I know.”

The pain came anyway.

Not all at once, but in waves—sharp flashes of the rejection, the humiliation, the echo of that moment replaying whether I wanted it to or not. It dragged everything else with it, pulling me under before I could stop it.

For the first time since my mother died—

I broke.

The sobs came hard and sudden, tearing through me with a force I hadn’t felt in years. My chest tightened, breath catching as everything I had been holding back crashed forward all at once.

For a moment, I felt sixteen again.

Small.

Lost.

Alone.

I wanted to be held.

Wanted something steady, something safe, something that didn’t slip away the second I reached for it.

An image of my mother surfaced without warning, soft and quiet but impossibly clear. I would have given anything for one of her hugs right then.

She had died when I was sixteen.

Even now, the memory didn’t sit right. It never had.

It wasn’t sharp or dramatic. It didn’t hit all at once. It lingered, like something that had settled too deep to ever fully fade.

My mother had carried pain long before she ever carried me.

Her mate had rejected her.

Not because she was weak.

Not because she had done anything wrong.

But because of me.

Not his child.

Not part of his blood or bond.

Just something he hadn’t wanted.

The pack had agreed with him.

That had broken her more than the rejection itself.

No one questioned it. No one stood up for her. They turned away like it was easy, like she had never mattered to begin with.

Just like they had done to me.

She raised me anyway.

Through whispers.

Through judgment.

Through the kind of silence that follows you even when people are speaking.

I never met my father.

He didn’t even know I existed.

One night.

One mistake.

And somehow, it had shaped everything that came after.

When my mother died, the world didn’t change.

It just got colder.

The pack didn’t soften. They didn’t see me differently. I was simply moved to the orphanage, filed away like a problem that needed managing.

Replaceable.

Forgettable.

That was where I learned the truth.

Strength mattered.

Nothing else.

Not kindness, loyalty or fairness. Just strength.

So I adapted. I watched and I learned how to exist without drawing attention while never becoming an easy target.

You survive long enough in a place like that, and you understand something quickly—

You either break.

Or you become harder.

I chose harder.

I knew almost nothing about my father.

Just fragments.

A name—Jasper.

A warrior, a pack somewhere north of the mountains.

Grey eyes. Dark hair.

I brushed my fingers absently through my own.

A reflection I had never asked for.

Would he recognize it?

Would he care?

…

It didn’t matter.

Not really.

What mattered was answers.

Something inside me had shifted.

Not when my mother died, or in the orphanage or through years of whispers and quiet rejection.

But today—

When Brian looked at me and decided I wasn’t enough.

That had done something.

The anger was still there.

Humiliation burned with the sharp edge of betrayal.

But beneath all of it, something steadier had taken hold.

It wasn' rage or pain but something else.

Something that didn’t shake.

“I don’t need him.”

Anita stirred immediately.

No.

“I—we don’t need his approval.”

No.

My jaw tightened slightly.

“But I need to know.”

Silence stretched for a moment before she answered.

Then we find him.

I let out a slow breath.

“I’ve thought about it before.”

More than once.

But back then, fear had always been stronger.

Fear of rejection of finding nothing.

Fear of confirming exactly what I already suspected.

Now?

There was nothing left here to lose.

There was no bond or a future here.

No reason to stay.

Brian had tried to break me.

Instead—

He had cut the last thing tying me here.

Freedom didn’t feel the way I thought it would.

It wasn’t light.

It wasn’t easy.

But it was mine.

Four packs ruled the north.

Four chances.

And if I failed?

I would keep going.

Because stopping wasn’t an option anymore.

I pushed myself to my feet, my body heavier than it should have been. Not weak, just… unsettled, like something inside me hadn’t fully adjusted yet.

I ignored it.

“Anita.”

Yes.

“Are you up for a trip?”

A brief pause—

Then a flicker of excitement moved through me.

Always.

A small smile pulled at my mouth.

“Good.”

I brushed the dust from my clothes and moved toward the door.

The cabin felt different now.

Smaller.

Like it had already given me what I needed.

This place had been my escape.

But I wasn’t running anymore.

Tomorrow—

I moved forward.

I stepped outside.

The forest had darkened, shadows stretching between the trees as evening settled fully in. Cool air brushed against my skin, quiet and still in a way that should have felt peaceful.

But it didn’t.

I paused.

Something shifted.

There was no sound or movement.

Just quiet awareness.

Anita went still.

…Aiden.

My gaze moved slowly across the trees.

The silence had changed.

It wasn’t calm anymore but it was waiting.

Then—

There.

Between the shadows.

Two unfamiliar golden eyes blinked once.

Locked onto mine.

And disappeared.

My body didn’t move.

Didn’t react.

But something deep in my chest shifted.

“…Yeah,” I murmured quietly into the dark.

“I see you too.”