The Omega's Rebirth: Her Rise And Revenge

Rejected

Jasmine's POV

The living room felt too big, too empty, even though I could hear people moving around me. My legs shook as Lily guided me to the couch, her hand steady on my elbow. I needed to process this.

"Luna, please sit down—"

"Well, well." That voice. Smooth, sweet, dripping with false concern. Isabel. "What's all this commotion about?"

I turned toward her, my jaw tight. "This doesn't concern you."

"Oh, but it does." Her footsteps clicked closer. I'd heard that sound enough times to recognize it. "Chris called me. He sounded so upset. I came as fast as I could."

Chris. She called him Chris.

"How thoughtful," I said, not bothering to hide the bitterness.

"Luna Jasmine, I know this must be difficult for you." Her hand touched my shoulder, light and condescending. "But you have to understand—sometimes things just don't work out. It's nobody's fault."

I jerked away from her touch. "Don't. Don't you dare pretend to care about me."

My hand shot out, trying to push her back, but I misjudged the distance. My palm connected with something—her chest, maybe her shoulder—and I heard her gasp.

"Ow!" Isabel stumbled backward, her voice climbing into a theatrical whimper. "Christopher!"

"What the hell?" Christopher's footsteps thundered across the room. Not walking toward me. Running to her.

"I barely touched her—"

"Isabel, are you alright?" His voice transformed, soft and worried in a way I'd never heard directed at me. "Did she hurt you?"

"My knees—I fell—" Isabel's voice cracked perfectly, like she'd rehearsed it.

"Let me see." The rustle of fabric. Him kneeling. Him actually kneeling for someone. "You're scraped. Lily! Call the pack healer. Now."

"Christopher, I'm pregnant!" My voice cracked. "I'm carrying your child and you're worried about her knees?"

"You pushed her."

"I barely—"

"You put your hands on her." Each word was ice. "You're lucky I don't—"

"Lucky?" The laugh that came out of me was ugly, broken. "You want to talk about luck? You did this to me, Christopher. You're the reason I'm blind."

Silence. The kind that screamed.

"Don't," he said quietly. Dangerously.

"It's true. You were supposed to be there. You promised you'd be there, but you weren't. You lied to me."

"You think this is my fault?" His voice rose as his alpha auras spilled out making me whimper. "You think your weakness is somehow my responsibility?"

"I chose you!" The words ripped out of me. "The moon goddess paired us. We are mates, I chose you. I loved you. I gave up everything—"

"Nobody asked you to."

The words landed like a slap. I stood there, trembling, my hands clenched at my sides.

"Please." My voice dropped to a whisper. "Please don't do this. I'm begging you. For our baby. For the child growing inside me right now."

"The healer is on her way, Alpha," Lily said softly.

"Good. Make sure Isabel is comfortable." Christopher's footsteps moved away from me. "And get Jasmine out of my sight."

"Christopher, please—"

"I, Christopher Vance, Alpha of the Blue Moon Pack—" His voice turned formal, ceremonial. The rejection ritual. No. No, no, no. "—reject you, Jasmine Wade, as my mate and Luna."

The pain hit like lightning. White-hot and absolute. It tore through my chest, through my bond, ripping apart everything that tied me to him. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. My legs gave out and I crashed to the floor, my hands clutching at my chest where it felt like my heart was being carved out.

"Christopher—" I gasped.

"The baby will be fine," he said, his voice distant now. "I'm sure the rejection won't affect the baby. I'm tired of this stupid bond. It disgusts me. When you give birth, I'll arrange for medical care. That's all you'll get from me. That's all you deserve."

"I was never—" Isabel's voice, soft and satisfied. "I mean, she was never really Luna material, was she? An omega. An orphan."

"No," Christopher agreed. "She wasn't."

"But Chris, you're so generous, still caring for the baby—"

"It's my heir. That's the only reason she's still breathing."

Their voices faded. Footsteps retreating. The front door closing.

I couldn't move. Couldn't do anything but lie there on the cold floor, my arms wrapped around my stomach, waiting for the pain to ease. It didn't. It wouldn't. Rejection didn't work like that.

But the baby—I pressed my hand harder against my stomach. Still there. Still alive. Thank the goddess.

"Luna." Lily's voice, thick with tears. "Luna, please. Let me help you up."

"I have nothing." The words came out flat. Empty. "No family. No home. Nothing."

"You have me. And you have your baby."

I almost laughed. What good was that? What good was any of it?

I'd grown up in the Orphanage after my parents died. I'd spent years in that place, dreaming of the day I'd have a real family. A real home. And then Christopher happened. My mate. My future. Or so I thought.

"What did I do wrong?" I whispered.

"Nothing. You did nothing wrong."

"Then why—"

Lily's voice turned fierce. "Because the world isn't fair. But right now, you need to get up. You need to eat something. For the baby."

She was right. I knew she was right. But my body wouldn't cooperate. The rejection pain still pulsed through me, sharp and relentless.

"Come on." Lily's hands found mine, tugging gently. "Let's get you to your room."

I let her pull me up. Let her guide me through the house that was no longer mine, up stairs I'd climbed a thousand times, into the bedroom where I'd slept alone for four years.

"I'll bring you some food," Lily said. "And then I'll pack your things."

"Where am I supposed to go?"

She didn't answer. Because there was no answer.

I heard her leave, heard her footsteps fade down the hallway. I sat on the edge of the bed, my hands shaking, my chest still aching from the rejection.

"Bath," I whispered to myself. "Just take a bath. Then you can think."

I stumbled to the bathroom, my hands finding the familiar fixtures. I turned on the water, listening to it fill the tub. Steam rose, warm against my face.

I sank into the water and let myself break.

The sobs came hard and brutal, tearing through me until my throat was raw. I pressed my hands over my mouth, trying to muffle the sound, but it was useless. Four years. Four years of trying, of loving him, of hoping he'd see me as something more than a burden.

And for what?

The rejection throbbed in my chest. The baby shifted slightly—or maybe I imagined it.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, my hands moving to my stomach under the water. "I'm so sorry. I don't know what we're going to do."

Through the bathroom door, I heard Lily moving around, opening drawers, folding clothes. Packing my life into suitcases.

In an hour, I'd be gone.

And I had absolutely no idea where I'd go.