He Rejected Me, Then Claimed Our Son

Chapter Four The River That Hid Us

The river carried us into darkness.

Cold water swallowed my scream before it could leave my mouth. The world vanished beneath a violent rush of black current, thunder, and pain. My body spun helplessly, dragged beneath the surface by the weight of my soaked gown and the merciless pull of the storm-fed river.

But my arms did not loosen. Not around Lior.

Never around Lior.

I clutched my newborn son against my chest with both arms, bending my body around his tiny one as rocks scraped my legs and branches tore at my skin beneath the water. The cold was so sharp it felt alive. It bit into my bones, stole the breath from my lungs, and tried to pry my baby from my grasp.

No.

The word tore through me without sound. No.

A silver glow pulsed between my arms. Lior.

His tiny body should have been freezing. He should have been screaming, drowning, dying in the same black water that dragged us farther and farther from Nightfall Pack.

But warmth spread from him into me.

Soft at first. Then stronger.

It moved through my chest like moonlight poured into my blood. Around us, the river changed. I felt it. Not with my hands. Not with my eyes. With something deeper. Something inside me that had no name.

The water that should have crushed us curved.

The current that should have pulled Lior from my arms wrapped around us instead, not gentle, but controlled.

As if the river had recognized him. Or me.

The thought was impossible.

Then again, so was a newborn with silver eyes. My lungs burned.

I kicked upward, but my legs barely obeyed. Pain tore through my lower body. I had given birth minutes ago. I was bleeding. Weak. Half-dead. If I had been alone, I would have stopped fighting.

But Lior’s small cheek pressed against my collarbone. So I fought.

My head broke the surface.

I gasped, choking on rain and river water. The storm roared above me. Trees blurred past on both sides, black and twisted against the night sky. The river was moving too fast, carrying us away from Cassian, away from the rogues, away from everything I knew.

“Help!” I tried to shout.

The sound came out broken. No one answered.

Of course no one answered.

The one woman who had helped me was dead.

The man who should have protected me had rejected me.

The pack that should have been mine had watched me bleed. There was no one left.

A jagged rock appeared ahead, splitting the water in two. Panic shot through me. I twisted my body, trying to shield Lior, but the current pulled us straight toward it.

“No!”

The silver warmth flared. The river shifted.

Not enough for me to understand. Just enough.

The current swung us around the rock at the last possible second. My shoulder slammed into stone instead of Lior’s head. Pain exploded down my arm, white and blinding. I cried out, but my grip held.

Lior whimpered. The sound was tiny. Too tiny.

My heart lurched.

“I know, baby,” I sobbed, pressing my mouth to his wet curls. “I know. Mommy has you. Mommy has you.”

His eyes opened beneath the edge of the blanket. Silver light spilled into the storm.

For one heartbeat, I heard the ancient voice again. Not outside me.

Not exactly inside me either. All around.

Let go, daughter. “No,” I rasped.

Let the river carry what the wolves would steal. “I said no.”

My voice was almost swallowed by thunder. “I am not letting go of my son.”

The voice went quiet. Then, softly:

Not of him. Of fear.

Before I could understand, the river dropped. My stomach lurched.

The world fell away beneath us. A waterfall.

The scream tore from my throat just as we plunged over the edge. For a moment, we were weightless.

Rain above. Rocks below. Lior in my arms.

Death waiting beneath us with open jaws. I curled around him and closed my eyes. Cassian’s face flashed through my mind. Not the cold Alpha on the platform.

Not the man who denied my child.

The Cassian who once lay beside me beneath tangled sheets, his large hand spread over my belly, his voice low and reverent as he whispered promises to a child he had not yet met.

I will always protect you both.

Liar.

We hit the water.

The impact knocked the world from me. Everything became silence.

Darkness. Silver.

Then nothing.

When I woke, the first thing I heard was crying. Small.

Angry. Alive.

My eyes flew open. Pain hit me all at once.

My head throbbed. My shoulder burned. My lower body ached with a deep, brutal soreness that made every breath tremble. Wet fabric clung to my skin. My hair stuck to my face and neck. My mouth tasted of river water and blood.

But Lior was crying.

I turned my head so fast dizziness nearly dragged me under again.

He lay against my chest, still wrapped in the soaked remains of Maera’s blanket. His little face was red, his mouth open, his fists shaking with fury.

A sob burst out of me. “Oh, thank the Moon.”

I gathered him closer, ignoring the scream of pain in my shoulder. His body was cold, but not ice-cold. Not dead-cold. Warmth still pulsed faintly beneath his skin.

I looked around.

We were on a muddy riverbank beneath a low stone overhang. The storm had softened to a heavy rain. Dawn had not yet come, but the sky was no longer completely black. Somewhere behind us, the waterfall roared. Somehow, the river had thrown us onto a narrow strip of land before it continued south through the forest.

Or it had placed us there.

I did not want to think about that. Lior rooted weakly against my chest. My heart squeezed.

He was hungry.

Of course he was hungry.

He had been born into terror, nearly drowned, hunted by monsters, and still he wanted life.

I shifted, hissing as pain tore through me. My fingers shook as I pulled at the wet fabric of my gown. The cold had made everything clumsy, but somehow I managed to free my breast and guide him close.

For a moment, he fussed. Then he latched.

The sensation pulled a sound from me that was half sob, half relief. I bent over him, shielding him from the rain with my body as best as I could. He nursed greedily, tiny fingers pressing against my skin.

“Good boy,” I whispered. “That’s it. Drink, little wolf.” Little wolf.

Cassian’s name for him. My throat tightened.

No.

I would not give Cassian that piece of him. Not yet.

Maybe never.

I looked down at my son’s face. His silver eyes were closed now, hidden beneath damp lashes. Without the glow, he looked almost ordinary. Small. Fragile. Mine.

“What are you?” I whispered.

Lior continued nursing, entirely unimpressed by my fear. A weak laugh escaped me.

Then I cried.

I cried quietly because I did not have the strength to do it loudly. Tears slid down my cheeks and disappeared into the rain. I cried for Maera. For my mother, whose name had been spoken like a secret. For the girl who had stood in a white dress beneath a moon chandelier and believed she was loved. For the child in my arms who had been denied before he could take his first breath.

And, though I hated myself for it, I cried for Cassian.

Because when the river had pulled me under, I had seen his face. He had looked terrified.

He had looked broken.

But terror after betrayal was not love. Fear after cruelty was not redemption.

A man did not get to destroy a woman in public and mourn her in private. Lior made a soft sound against my breast.

I wiped my tears with the back of my hand.

“You will not grow up begging anyone to choose you,” I whispered to him. “Do you hear me? Not a pack. Not an Alpha. Not even your father.”

The word father tasted bitter.

Lior’s small hand opened against my skin.

For one strange moment, warmth traveled from his palm into my chest. My vision blurred.

Not from pain this time.

From memory.

A woman’s laughter.

Soft hands braiding my hair.

The smell of lavender and smoke.

A voice humming beneath moonlight. My breath caught.

Mother?

The memory vanished before I could reach for it. I stared into the rain, heart pounding.

My mother had died when I was young. That was what I had always been told. Fever. Sudden. Ordinary. There were no portraits of her in the Elowen cottage where I was raised by my aunt. No stories except the ones I begged for and barely received.

She was kind. She loved you. She died.

That had been the whole of Saira Elowen’s life as it had been given to me. But Maera had known her.

Saira, you foolish, brilliant woman. And then:

Everything she died for.

My fingers tightened around Lior.

“What did you hide from me, Mother?” I whispered. The forest gave no answer.

Only the river. Only rain.

Only my son’s quiet suckling as the first gray hint of dawn touched the sky.

Far behind us, Alpha Cassian Veyr tore the riverbank apart with his bare hands. “Find them!”

His roar shattered the last of the storm.

Warriors scattered through the trees, some in wolf form, noses pressed to mud and wet stone, others in human form carrying lanterns and shouting orders they were too frightened to question.

Cassian stood at the edge of the river, chest bare, soaked in rain, mud, and rogue blood. His hands were clenched so tightly his claws had split through his fingertips. Blood dripped from them onto the stones.

He did not feel it.

He felt nothing except the image burning behind his eyes. Nyra in the river.

Nyra holding the child. Silver eyes.

The baby had silver eyes. Not gold like his.

Not brown like hers. Silver.

And power.

Raw, impossible power that had stopped the river and thrown a rogue against a tree. Cassian’s wolf paced inside him like a beast losing its mind.

Our pup.

Cassian closed his eyes. The words hurt.

Because the wolf had known from the beginning.

Even when Cassian had stood in the great hall and said the child was not his, his wolf had clawed and howled and bled against the inside of his skull.

Ours. Mate. Pup.

But Cassian had forced him down. He had believed the letter.

He had believed the scent on Nyra’s shawl that did not belong to him.

He had believed Valeria’s trembling voice when she said she had only wanted to protect the pack.

He had believed his mother when she said love made Alphas weak. Now Nyra was gone.

His son was gone.

And the last thing she had said to him was goodbye. A warrior approached cautiously.

“Alpha.”

Cassian opened his eyes.

The warrior lowered his head. “The river is too swollen. Her scent disappears after the falls.” Cassian moved so fast the warrior stumbled back.

“Do not tell me what disappears.”

The command rolled out of him, dark and violent. The warrior dropped to one knee.

“I apologize, Alpha.”

Cassian turned away before he did something unforgivable.

Something else.

The thought struck like a blade. Something else unforgivable.

He looked down at the blood on his hands. Rogue blood.

His own blood. Maybe Nyra’s.

His stomach twisted.

When he had caught her in the great hall, she had felt so small in his arms. Too small. Too cold. Her blood had soaked through his clothes, and still she had looked at him with eyes that said the wound inside her hurt worse.

You already killed me.

Cassian pressed a fist against his chest. The mate bond was broken.

He had felt it snap.

He had watched the pain tear through her body after she accepted his rejection. He had done that.

No curse. No lie. No forged letter could erase that he had opened his mouth and spoken the words.

I reject you.

His wolf snarled, then whimpered.

Cassian turned toward the body of the rogue he had killed.

It lay twisted near the riverbank, half-shifted, its mouth still open in a frozen snarl. Black veins spread beneath its gray skin.

Not normal.

He crouched beside it.

A scent clung to the rogue beneath rot and blood. Faint.

Familiar.

His eyes narrowed. Nightshade.

Valeria’s perfume. Cassian went still.

The forest seemed to hold its breath.

Slowly, he reached for the rogue’s torn collar. Something silver glinted there, tied on a thin chain.

He ripped it free. A crest.

Not Nightfall. No.

His jaw hardened. Nocturne.

Valeria’s family crest.

The world inside him went cold. A second warrior approached.

“Alpha, Luna Mireya has ordered us to return. She says the pack is vulnerable after the rogue breach and Lady Valeria is distressed.”

Cassian closed his fist around the crest until the sharp edges cut his palm. Lady Valeria is distressed.

Nyra had been bleeding. Their son had been hunted.

Maera’s cabin had been torn apart. And Valeria was distressed.

Cassian rose slowly. “Bring the body.”

The warrior swallowed. “To the pack?” “To my mother’s hall.”

The warrior paled.

Cassian’s voice dropped lower.

“And find every wolf who touched Nyra’s chamber in the last seven days.” “Yes, Alpha.”

Cassian looked back at the river.

Rain fell into the dark water, breaking its surface into a thousand silver ripples. For one impossible second, he thought he saw her.

Nyra standing in the rain, white gown torn, one hand over her stomach, eyes full of pain and fire. You lost the right to claim me.

His hand tightened around the crest. “Maybe,” he whispered.

His wolf growled.

Cassian lifted his eyes toward the south, where the river disappeared between the trees. “But I have not lost the right to protect you.”

This time, when his wolf howled, the whole forest answered.

By dawn, I was moving again. Not because I was strong.

Because staying still meant dying.

The rain had finally stopped, leaving the forest dripping and gray. Mist curled between the trees. Birds called cautiously from hidden branches as if unsure the storm was truly over.

I had torn the cleanest part of my gown into strips and wrapped Lior against my chest beneath Maera’s cloak. It was not perfect, but it kept him close and mostly covered. His silver eyes had not opened again, and I was grateful.

I did not know who might be watching. The river had taken the satchel.

The knife. The coin. The herbs.

Everything Maera had given me was gone.

All I had was my son, a torn dress, a dead woman’s cloak, and a body that felt like it might collapse with every step.

Still, I followed the river south. Maera had told me to.

Do not stop until dawn.

Dawn had come, but stopping felt like betrayal.

My feet were bruised and bleeding. Every few minutes, I had to pause and lean against a tree while dizziness washed over me. My stomach cramped. Milk leaked through my torn bodice. My entire body smelled of blood, birth, river water, and fear.

No wolf could miss that scent. Unless the river had truly hidden us. I looked down at Lior.

He slept against me, mouth soft, lashes dark against his cheeks. His tiny hand rested over my heart.

“You are very demanding for someone who only arrived tonight,” I whispered. A tired smile tugged at my lips.

It vanished when I heard voices. I froze.

Not wolves. Human voices. A man laughing.

A woman scolding him. The creak of wheels.

My heart began to pound.

I crouched behind a cluster of wet shrubs and peered through the leaves.

A narrow dirt road cut through the forest ahead. On it, a wooden cart rolled slowly behind an old brown horse. A human couple sat at the front, both wrapped in heavy traveling coats. The woman held a basket of apples in her lap. The man guided the horse with loose reins.

Humans. Not pack. Not rogue.

Not safe either. But maybe safer.

Lior stirred, making a small hungry sound. The woman’s head turned.

I held my breath.

She squinted toward the trees. “Did you hear that?”

The man beside her stopped the cart. “Hear what?”

“A baby.”

Fear and hope collided inside me.

The woman climbed down before he could stop her.

“Elsa,” he said, “do not go wandering into the bushes. We are already late.” “Then be late.”

She came closer.

My arms tightened around Lior. I could run.

No, I could not. I could hide.

Not with a newborn.

I could threaten them.

With what? My bleeding feet?

The woman pushed aside the branches. Her eyes widened.

For one long moment, we stared at each other.

She was older than me, maybe in her forties, with kind brown eyes and streaks of gray in her dark hair. Her gaze dropped to the bundle against my chest, then to the blood on my dress, then to my bare feet.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she whispered. The gentleness nearly broke me.

The man came up behind her and froze. “Moon above,” he muttered.

The woman shot him a sharp look. “Blanket. Now.” He hurried back to the cart.

I tried to stand.

Pain stabbed through me.

“Please,” I said, though I did not know what I was asking for. “Please do not tell anyone you saw us.”

The woman knelt slowly, keeping her hands visible. “I am not going to hurt you.”

“That is what people say before they do.” Sadness passed over her face. “Sometimes.”

Lior whimpered.

Her expression softened. “He needs warmth.”

“I know.”

“And you need a healer.” “No healers.”

She studied me carefully.

“You are running from someone.” I swallowed.

“Yes.”

“A husband?”

My throat tightened. “No.”

Not a husband. Not anymore.

“A pack?” she asked. I went still.

Her eyes flicked briefly to my throat, where the mark Cassian had once given me was hidden beneath mud and hair. The bite had faded when the bond broke, but the scar remained.

“You know what I am,” I whispered.

“I know enough not to ask foolish questions on a forest road.”

Her husband returned with a thick wool blanket. He kept his distance, eyes worried but not cruel.

Elsa took it and held it out.

“You and the baby can ride in the back. We are heading to Briar Glen. Human town. No packs inside the walls. Not officially.”

I stared at the blanket. Kindness felt like a trap now. “What do you want?”

“Right now?” Elsa looked at Lior. “To get that child out of the cold.” “And after?”

The woman’s mouth tightened.

“After, you can decide whether to trust us. But if you stay here, whoever you are running from will not need to find you. The fever will.”

She was right.

I hated that she was right.

My body was shivering too hard. My vision kept dimming at the edges. Lior needed dry cloth, warmth, milk, safety.

Temporary safety.

I forced myself to stand. The world tilted.

Elsa caught me before I fell.

I flinched so violently she released me at once. “Sorry,” she said softly.

I shook my head. “No. I am sorry.” “You have nothing to apologize for.” I almost laughed.

I had spent my life apologizing for breathing too loudly.

The man helped clear the branches, and together they guided me to the cart. Every step was agony. By the time I climbed into the back, I was sweating despite the cold.

Elsa covered me and Lior with the blanket. The warmth made my eyes fill again. “What is your name?” she asked.

I hesitated.

Names had power. Maera had known mine.

The forest had known mine.

The rogues had known my son’s blood. “Nyra,” I said finally.

Elsa smiled gently. “And the baby?”

I looked down at him.

His eyes remained closed. “Lior.”

“Light,” Elsa said. My head lifted. “What?”

“In the old tongue. Lior means light.” I looked at my sleeping son.

Light.

Of course.

Elsa climbed into the front of the cart beside her husband. “Rest, Nyra.”

I should not have.

I knew I should not have.

But the blanket was warm, Lior was breathing, and my body had survived more than it should have.

As the cart began to roll, I let my eyes close.

The last thing I saw before sleep took me was the river slipping away behind the trees. The last thing I heard was the ancient voice, softer now.

Sleep, daughter.

The river has hidden you. For now.

When Cassian returned to Nightfall Pack, carrying the Nocturne crest in his bloodied hand, the sun had barely risen.

The pack courtyard went silent. Warriors bowed.

Servants froze. Elders stepped aside.

Cassian walked through them all without speaking.

He entered the great hall where only hours ago he had rejected his mate. The blood had been cleaned from the floor.

That was the first thing he noticed.

Nyra’s blood was gone.

The white silk torn from her gown was gone. The broken glass had been swept away.

The blue candles had been replaced. The hall looked almost normal.

As if nothing had happened.

As if he had not destroyed the woman who carried his child beneath that chandelier. A growl rose in his chest.

Every wolf in the room lowered their heads.

Luna Mireya stood near the platform, speaking quietly with Valeria and three elders. Valeria had changed into a black mourning gown, though no one was dead who mattered to her. Her eyes were red, but Cassian could not tell if it was from crying or effort.

When she saw him, she rushed forward. “Cassian.”

He stopped.

She reached for him.

He caught her wrist before she could touch his chest. Valeria froze.

Around them, the elders went silent.

Cassian looked at the woman he had almost named Luna. Her perfume wrapped around him.

Nightshade and roses.

The same scent clinging to the rogue’s collar. His fingers tightened.

Valeria winced.

“Cassian, you are hurting me.”

“Good,” his wolf said through his mouth. Her face drained of color.

Luna Mireya stepped forward. “That is enough.” Cassian did not look at his mother.

He opened his bloody hand. The silver crest lay in his palm. Valeria stopped breathing.

Cassian smiled. It was not kind.

“I found this on the rogue who tried to take my son.” The hall went deathly quiet.

Valeria’s lips parted. “Your… son?”

Cassian’s eyes flashed gold.

“Yes,” he said, his voice shaking the walls. “My son.” Luna Mireya’s expression hardened.

“Cassian, be careful.”

He finally turned to his mother. “Careful?” he repeated softly.

The softness was worse than a roar. Several elders stepped back.

Cassian lifted the crest higher.

“Nyra was rejected in this hall based on evidence brought by Valeria. Hours later, rogues wearing her family crest attacked the child Nyra was accused of falsely carrying.”

Valeria shook her head quickly.

“No. No, I have never seen that before.” “Then you will not mind answering questions.” Fear flashed in her eyes.

Only for a second. But Cassian saw it.

He saw everything now. Too late, but he saw.

Luna Mireya’s voice turned cold. “You are grieving and exhausted. Do not make accusations that could fracture alliances.”

Cassian stepped toward his mother. “I had a mate.”

The room held its breath. “I had a child.”

His voice dropped lower.

“And because of the alliances you love so much, they are somewhere in the forest, bleeding, hunted, and alone.”

Valeria whispered, “Cassian, I only wanted to protect you.” He turned back to her.

The last thread of control inside him snapped.

“From what?” he snarled. “A woman who loved me? A child who had not even been born?” Valeria trembled.

“She betrayed you.”

Cassian leaned close enough that she stopped breathing.

“If I find out you lied,” he said, “there is no law, no elder, no family name, and no goddess that will save you from me.”

The great hall doors opened behind him.

A warrior entered, dragging a pale servant girl by the arm. Cassian recognized her.

Mina.

One of the chamber maids assigned to Nyra’s rooms.

The girl fell to her knees, sobbing before anyone asked a question.

“I am sorry,” she cried. “I am sorry, Alpha. Lady Valeria made me do it.” Valeria went still.

Luna Mireya closed her eyes.

Cassian felt the world narrow to a single point. The servant looked up, shaking.

“The letter was planted,” she sobbed. “Lady Valeria gave it to me. She told me if I did not place it in Lady Nyra’s drawer, my brother would be sent to the border prison.”

Cassian did not move. No one did.

The confession seemed to hang in the air like a blade waiting to fall. Valeria took one step back.

“Cassian—”

He turned to her.

His wolf rose fully behind his eyes.

The Alpha’s voice that came out of him was no longer only human. “Where is my mate?”

Valeria’s face twisted.

For one second, the mask slipped, and hatred looked out from behind her beauty. Then she smiled.

Small. Cruel. Victorious.

“Gone,” she whispered.

Cassian’s claws slid from his fingertips. Valeria’s smile widened.

“And if the old stories are true, Alpha, you should pray she stays that way.” Cassian lunged.

Three elders and two warriors barely held him back. The hall erupted in chaos.

But above every shout, above every command, above Valeria’s scream as guards seized her arms, one thought burned through Cassian’s mind.

Nyra had told the truth.

Nyra had always told the truth. And he had rejected her anyway.

Far away, south of the river, I slept beneath a human woman’s blanket with my son against my heart.

I did not know that Cassian had finally learned the truth. I did not know that Valeria had been exposed.

I did not know that my name was being spoken in Nightfall Pack not with pity now, but with fear. I only knew that when I opened my eyes hours later, the cart had stopped.

A stone wall rose ahead of us. Briar Glen.

The human town. Safety.

Maybe.

Then Elsa’s husband swore under his breath. I followed his gaze.

At the town gate stood three men in dark cloaks. Their faces were hidden.

Their eyes were not. Yellow.

Wolf.

One of them lifted his head and sniffed the air. Then he smiled directly at me.

“Found you, little mother.”