Nun to call mine

The rejection

Thrain's cold blue eyes stared at her.

Lisa watched his expression change in slow motion — first confusion, then recognition, then something that made her stomach turn to ice. Disgust. Pure, open, undisguised disgust.

He stepped back. One step. Then another. As if she were a fire that would burn him if he stood too close.

The great hall was silent. Three hundred wolves held their breath.

Lisa stood frozen in her white gown with flowers in her hair and her heart on the floor. She could not move. She could not speak. She could only stare at the man the Moon Goddess had chosen for her — the man who was looking at her like she was the worst thing he had ever seen.

"Thrain," Alpha Lykon said from his throne, his voice tight. "The bond has been confirmed. She is your fated mate. Proceed with the ceremony."

Thrain shook his head slowly. His jaw was clenched. His hands were fists at his sides.

"No," he said.

The word dropped into the silence like a stone into still water.

Lisa felt the ground tilt beneath her feet. No. He said no. Her fated mate said no.

"You cannot refuse a fated bond," one of the elders said from the side of the hall. "It is the Moon Goddess's will."

Thrain turned to the elder. His cold blue eyes flashed with something like anger. "Watch me."

He turned back to Lisa. He looked at her — really looked at her — and there was no softness in his gaze. No warmth. No bond pulling him forward. Nothing but revulsion.

"I, Thrain of the Northern Border," he said loudly, clearly, so that every single wolf in the hall could hear, "reject you, Lisa of the Lykon bloodline, as my fated mate."

The words hit Lisa like a physical blow. Pain exploded in her chest — sharp, burning, tearing. The golden thread that connected them snapped. She felt it break inside her like a bone cracking in two. She gasped. Her knees buckled. She grabbed the edge of the altar to stay upright.

The crowd erupted. Gasps. Whispers. Murmurs that grew into a roar of shock.

But Thrain was not finished.

He turned to the crowd, his shoulders straight, his voice steady. "I will not bind myself to a curse. I will not taint my bloodline with darkness. The Moon Goddess may have chosen her for me, but I choose differently."

Lisa could not breathe. The pain in her chest was spreading — through her veins, into her limbs, up her throat. She tasted blood. The severed bond was poisoning her from the inside.

Then Thrain looked past Lisa, toward the back of the hall. His expression changed again — from disgust to something else. Something warmer. Something terribly, horribly soft.

Lisa turned to follow his gaze.

Freya stood at the back of the hall in her red gown, her blonde hair catching the torchlight like a crown. She was smiling. A small, practiced smile. As if she had been waiting for this exact moment.

"I choose her instead," Thrain said.

The hall erupted again. But this time, the murmurs were different. Some were shocked. Some were approving. And some — too many — were relieved. Relieved that the handsome, powerful Thrain would not be bound to the cursed girl. Relieved that the pretty sister would take her place.

Freya walked forward. Her steps were slow and graceful, like she had rehearsed them. She passed Lisa without looking at her. Without a single glance. She walked straight to Thrain and took his hand.

Their fingers intertwined.

Lisa stood at the altar, alone.

She looked at her father. Alpha Lykon sat on his throne, his warm brown eyes fixed on the ground. He did not look at her. He did not stand. He did not speak in her defense. He just... sat there. Like she was not his daughter. Like she was nothing.

She looked at her mother. Elara stood to the side, her expression unreadable. But her eyes — those cold green eyes — held no surprise. No shock. No anger at the insult dealt to her firstborn.

She knew, Lisa realized. She knew this would happen.

The understanding hit her like a second blow. Her mother knew. Freya knew. They had planned this. The birthday celebration was never for Lisa. It was a stage. A performance. A way to publicly transfer the mate bond from the cursed daughter to the beautiful one, with three hundred witnesses to make it official.

Lisa had been set up.

Her legs gave out. She crashed to her knees on the cold stone floor. The flowers in her hair fell loose and scattered around her like broken promises. Her white gown pooled around her like a puddle of milk.

The crowd was moving on. Already moving on. Someone was speaking about the new union. About Thrain and Freya. About the celebration. Music started again — hesitant at first, then growing louder.

No one helped Lisa up.

No one came to her side.

She was invisible. She had always been invisible.

But the pain was not invisible. It was everywhere. It was eating her alive. The severed bond howled inside her chest like a dying animal. She pressed her fist against her heart and bit down on her lip until it bled, trying not to scream.

Do not scream, she told herself. Do not give them that. Do not let them see you break.

She forced herself to her feet. Her body shook so violently she could barely stand. But she stood. She stood, and she looked at the great hall one final time — at the father who never loved her, at the mother who never wanted her, at the sister who stole from her, at the mate who threw her away like trash.

None of them were looking at her.

None of them cared.

Lisa turned and walked out of the great hall. Her steps were unsteady. Her vision blurred with tears she refused to let fall. She walked through the corridor, past servants who stepped aside to let her pass, past guards who would not meet her eyes.

She walked out of the Alpha house.

She walked into the forest.

And then she ran.

She ran barefoot through the trees, the hem of her white gown tearing on branches and stones. She ran until her lungs burned and her feet bled and the music from the great hall was nothing but a ghost of a sound far behind her.

She ran until there were no more tears left.

She ran until the trees parted and she saw it — rising out of the valley like a stone giant. The Lunaria Temple. Ancient. Silent. Wrapped in shadow and moonlight even in the middle of the day.

Lisa stumbled to the massive iron gates. She fell against them, her bloody hands pressing against the cold metal.

"Let me in," she gasped. "Please. Let me in."

Silence.

"I have nothing left," she cried. "I have no one. I have nowhere. Please."

For a long moment, nothing happened. The gates stayed closed. The temple stayed silent.

Then — a sound. A lock turning. A chain rattling. The gates groaned and began to open, just wide enough for one person to pass through.

A figure stood in the gap. Tall. Thin. White-haired. Eyes like gray stone. The Mother of Nuns looked down at the broken girl at her feet and said nothing for a long time.

Then: "Do you know what you ask? Once you enter, there is no leaving. Once you take the vow, there is no mate, no family, no love. Only the Moon Goddess. Only the temple. Only silence."

Lisa looked up. Her green eyes were red with tears, but they were steady.

"Good," Lisa whispered. "Silence is all I want."

The Mother of Nuns stepped aside.

Lisa crawled through the gates.

Behind her, the iron doors closed with a sound like a coffin lid slamming shut.

And somewhere, deep inside her chest, where the broken bond still bled, something else stirred. Something that was not pain. Something that was not grief. Something ol

d and dark and powerful, turning over in its sleep.

Lisa did not feel it. Not yet.

But the Moon above did. And She trembled.