The Rejected Bloodline Mate: Path of the Forsaken

Chapter 3 - The Path North

Morning came too fast, cold and unforgiving in a way that didn’t care what you had lost the night before. Dew clung to the orphanage windows, thin trails sliding slowly down the glass like quiet whispers, and there were far too many of those waiting for me today.

Rejected.

The word had already spread through the pack before sunrise, carried faster than anything else ever did. Nothing traveled quicker than humiliation.

I stood outside the gate for a moment, letting the cool air fill my lungs—pine, damp earth, wolves—and beneath it all, that bitter, lingering reminder of yesterday. I forced it down, not gone but contained, locked away just enough to function.

Then I stepped inside.

The orphanage looked exactly the same as it always had, with its faded blue walls and roof that had seen better years, sitting slightly apart from the rest of the pack like something people preferred not to think about too often.

Fitting.

The scent hit immediately—layers of wolves, old wood, and shared space built over years. My nose wrinkled slightly as I moved down the narrow hallway.

Home.

Or something close enough to it.

I walked toward my room, toward what was left of my life here, and the thought of Lucy surfaced before I could stop it. She had been my only real friend, the only person who had ever chosen me without hesitation, and then last year she found her mate and disappeared without a word.

She didn't say goodbye or even left a note.

No explanation.

Just gone.

The rumors had spread quickly, none of them kind, and I had spent weeks wondering if she was dead until one night, just as sleep started to take me, her voice brushed faintly through my mind.

“Ads, don’t worry. I found my mate and I’m okay.”

The connection had snapped before I could answer, cutting off anything I might have said, and that was the last time I ever heard her.

I swallowed and pushed the thought away.

She left for a reason.

Everyone did.

The door creaked as I pushed it open, revealing a room that hadn’t changed at all—neat, simple, forgettable, with nothing more than a bed, a dresser, and a curtain shifting softly in the breeze.

It felt empty, but I didn’t let myself linger.

There wasn’t much to take.

Just boots, food, and the essentials I would need to leave.

Then my gaze landed on the photo.

I picked it up carefully, my mother’s arm wrapped around me, her smile soft and real—not the one she had forced for the pack, but something genuine, something that belonged only to us.

This was who she had been.

Before they broke her.

I slid the photo into my bag without hesitation, because that was the only thing here that mattered. Everything else could be replaced.

“Aiden.”

I turned at the sound of my name.

Jayce stood in the doorway, small, too thin, and far too quiet for a child his age. His green eyes locked onto mine like he already knew what I was going to say and didn’t want to hear it.

So he knew.

Of course he did.

I softened my expression slightly.

“I’m okay,” I said, knowing it wasn’t entirely true but close enough.

Then I adjusted my bag.

“But I’m leaving.”

His reaction was immediate.

“No—wait—”

He rushed forward, stopping just in front of me as his voice wavered.

“Will you come back?”

That hit harder than anything Brian had said, because this mattered in a way nothing else did.

I crouched down in front of him, bringing us to eye level, steadying myself before answering.

“J, you need to behave while I’m gone.”

His brows pulled together.

“That’s not what I asked.”

A quiet breath left me, something almost like a tired exhale.

Smart kid.

“I’ll come back for you,” I said, this time without softening the promise.

“I mean it.”

The words settled between us, heavier than anything else I had said that morning.

Jayce’s face lit up instantly as he threw his arms around me.

“Okay,” he said quickly. “I’ll wait.”

I hugged him tighter than I meant to before forcing myself to let go, because staying like that even a second longer would have made it harder to leave.

A floorboard creaked behind us, and I didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

Maddy.

Her scent always carried quiet judgment and years of distance.

“Are you leaving?” she asked.

There was no warmth in her voice, no surprise, just confirmation.

I stood, adjusting my bag.

“Yes.”

Her gaze flicked briefly to the strap on my shoulder, then back to my face, pausing just long enough that it almost seemed like she might say something more.

She didn’t.

“Alright,” she said simply, before turning and walking away.

That was it.

No goodbye, warning or advice.

Figures.

Outside, the pack was already alive—moving, talking, watching—and the shift was immediate the moment I stepped into the street. Eyes turned, voices dropped, and whispers followed in my wake, but I kept walking with my head high and my spine straight.

If they wanted a show, they weren’t getting one.

“Well, look at that.”

I stopped.

Of course.

Candice stood in the center of the path like she owned it, arms crossed, that same practiced smile stretched across her face—perfect hair, perfect posture, perfect illusion.

“Cinderella herself,” she added sweetly.

I tilted my head, taking her in for a moment before letting a slow smile form.

“Oh look,” I said lightly, “Brian’s favorite distraction.”

A ripple of laughter moved through the nearby wolves, and her smile snapped.

“You think this is funny?”

“I think,” I said, stepping closer as my voice dropped just enough to cut, “you should worry less about me and more about how easily he rejected me, what do you think he will eventually do to you?”

That landed harder than anything else I could have said.

The crowd didn’t even try to hide their reaction this time.

I didn’t stay, I didn’t need to.

The damage was already done.

The moment I stepped into the forest, everything changed as the sounds of the pack faded behind me—voices, movement, expectation—until there was nothing left but trees and quiet.

The forest closed in around me, tall and steady, shadows stretching across the ground, and even though I didn’t look back, I felt it.

Someone watching.

Heavy but familiar.

I ignored it.

Let them watch.

I wasn’t turning around.

The border came faster than it should have, or maybe I just didn’t hesitate as I stepped forward and crossed without looking back.

The pack link snapped instantly.

Not gently or quietly.

It tore away, leaving a hollow silence in its place as pain flared briefly behind my eyes before fading just as quickly.

No more voices, no emotions forces it's way through the pack link.

And no constant hum.

Just silence.

Real silence.

Anita stirred beneath the surface, not in pain but in recognition.

It’s gone.

“Yeah,” I murmured quietly.

But I didn’t feel empty.

Not the way I expected.

I felt lighter, like something invisible had finally let go.

I had no Alpha, no mate and the best of all no chains.

Just me.

Anita lifted her head, her presence clearer now, stronger, more focused.

North.

I exhaled slowly, then nodded.

“North.”

And I ran.

The forest blurred as I pushed forward, branches snapping beneath my feet while air rushed past my skin, each step carrying me farther from everything I had ever known.

For the first time in my life, I wasn’t being watched or judged or held back.

I was choosing my path.

Every step.

Every breath.

Mine.

Behind me, something moved.

it was soft, controlled and intentional.

A second set of paws kept pace just out of sight, steady and patient in a way that made my awareness sharpen.

This time, I didn’t ignore it.

A slow smile pulled at my lips.

“Good,” I murmured under my breath.

Because whoever was following me—

Had just made a very interesting mistake.