Rejected Alpha mate

MysteriousElder

Kyla jolted awake, her body tensing as the sharp tang of antiseptic flooded her senses. Her eyes fluttered open, struggling to adjust to the dim light of a small room. The air was thick with a

medicinal fragranc...alcohol swabs, sterile gauze, and something faintly floral she couldn’t place. A low hum buzzed from somewhere overhead, and as her vision cleared, she saw the

source: a flickering fluorescent bulb casting weak shadows across cracked plaster walls. She was lying on a stiff cot, a thin blanket draped over her legs, and an IV line tugged at her arm, its

needle taped sloppily to her skin.Panic clawed at her chest. A hospital. Humans. She yanked the IV free, ignoring the sting, and swung her legs over the cot’s edge. Her boots were still on, caked with mud from the forest, and the rusty key hung heavy against her collarbone, intact. Her head throbbed, memories of the hellhound’s crimson eyes flashing behind her lids, but she shoved them down. She couldn’t afford to linger...not here, surrounded by people who’d cage her or worse if they knew what she was.

The door creaked open, and Kyla froze, her hand hovering over the key. A nurse stepped in, a middle-aged woman with tired eyes and a clipboard clutched to her chest. “You’re awake,” she

said, her voice clipped but not unkind. “Good. You’ve been out for hours. An elderly woman brought you in,found you collapsed by the Red Dog Tavern. Said you looked like you’d been

through hell.”

Kyla’s stomach twisted. An elderly woman? She didn’t remember anyone,just the bar, the gravel biting into her palms as she’d slumped against the wall. “Who was she?” she asked,

keeping her tone steady despite the unease creeping up her spine.

The nurse shrugged, flipping a page on her clipboard. “Didn’t leave a name. Just dropped you off and left. You’re lucky she did—dehydration, exhaustion, a few nasty scratches. We’ve

patched you up, but you should rest—”

“I’m fine,” Kyla cut in, standing too quickly. The room tilted, and she gripped the cot’s edge, her

legs shaky but stubborn. “I need to go.”

“You’re not fine,” the nurse protested, stepping closer. “You need observation—” “No.” Kyla’s voice sharpened, a growl edging into it. The nurse flinched, and she cursed

inwardly. She couldn’t risk losing control, not here. Humans didn’t understand wolves—they feared them, hunted them. She’d grown up hearing the stories: packs betrayed, wolves

dissected in labs. Her father had drilled it into her—trust no one outside the pack. And now, with the pack gone, that rule was ironclad.

Before the nurse could argue, Kyla bolted for the door, shoving past her and into a narrow hallway. The hospital was small, a rural outpost with peeling paint and flickering exit signs. She

kept her head low, her damp hair falling into her face as she weaved through the corridor, dodging a janitor mopping the floor. Voices called after her—sharp, insistent—but she didn’t

stop. The antiseptic stench burned her nose, urging her faster until she found a side exit and burst into the night,The air outside was crisp, tinged with exhaust and the faint rot of a nearby dumpster. She gulped it down, steadying herself against a brick wall. The hospital sat on the edge of the human city, its lights bleeding into the darkness beyond. She didn’t know where she was going,only that she couldn’t stay. Her kind didn’t belong here, penned in by concrete and glass, watched by eyes that didn’t see her for what she was.

She wandered, her boots scuffing against cracked pavement as she navigated the unfamiliar streets. The city was a maze of squat buildings and flickering streetlights, the hum of cars and

distant laughter grating against her heightened senses. Her body ached, her muscles protesting every step, but she pushed on, the key bouncing against her chest. It was her anchor, her

curse—the thing that had drawn that hellhound and maybe this elderly woman too. Who was she? Why had she helped?

The streets blurred together until a familiar buzz cut through her haze—the neon sign of the Red Dog Tavern. Kyla stopped short, her breath catching. She hadn’t meant to come back here. The bar loomed ahead, its windows glowing with the same warm light she’d seen before collapsing.Music drifted out, a twangy guitar undercut by raucous voices. She should’ve kept walking, put distance between herself and this place, but her feet wouldn’t move. Something pulled her closer—a nagging instinct, sharp and unshakable.

She edged toward the bar, sticking to the shadows along its side. The gravel crunched underfoot, the same spot where she’d fallen. Her gaze swept the lot—empty save for a rusted

pickup and a motorcycle propped against a post. Then she saw her.

An elderly woman stood near the entrance, her silhouette framed by the neon glow. She was small, hunched, her silver hair tied back in a loose bun. A shawl draped her shoulders, fluttering

faintly in the breeze, and she leaned on a cane, its tip tapping the ground. She didn’t move,didn’t speak—just stood there, facing the bar as if waiting. For Kyla.A chill slithered down Kyla’s spine, colder than the forest wind. She didn’t know this woman, hadn’t seen her face, but the air around her felt wrong,heavy, charged with something Kyla

couldn’t name. Her wolf instincts screamed: danger, trap, run. The hellhound’s crimson eyes flashed in her mind, and she wondered if this woman was connected...another hunter? another

threat?... circling the key.

Kyla pressed herself against the wall, her heart pounding. The woman hadn’t turned, hadn’t acknowledged her, but Kyla felt exposed, pinned by an unseen gaze. This wasn’t safety. This

was a predator’s patience, a lure she’d stumbled into twice now. She backed away, her boots silent on the gravel, every nerve alight with the certainty that she wasn’t safe—not here, not with her.