Rejected By The Pack: Claimed By The Cursed Alpha

Chapter six

The door clicked shut behind Lyra, and for a heartbeat, the only sound in the room was the frantic thrumming of my own pulse. I didn't turn around. I didn't want to see the triumph I knew was etched into her perfect features, or the way the evening light caught the silver in her hair a constant, shimmering reminder of the wolf she had and the one I had lost.

I remained seated on the edge of my bed, my back straight, my hands folded neatly in my lap. I was a statue of composure, a mask of the "Little Moon Princess" I had once been, even as the girl underneath felt like she was evaporating into the shadows of the room.

“Well…” Lyra’s voice was a low, melodic purr that scraped across my nerves like a serrated blade. “Isn’t this tragic?”

She didn't wait for an invitation. She never did anymore. I heard the soft, rhythmic click of her heels against the floorboards as she began to circle me, a predator evaluating a wounded creature that had finally stopped struggling.

I lifted my eyes slowly. I didn't let them flicker with the pain that was currently hollowing out my chest. I met her gaze with a calm, blank stare—the kind of look you give a stranger you have no intention of ever meeting again.

Lyra stopped in front of me, leaning lazily against the bedpost. Her posture was relaxed, her eyes bright with a sharp, poisonous amusement that she no longer bothered to hide when we were alone.

“You know,” she continued softly, her lips curving into a smile that didn't reach her cold eyes, “it’s almost impressive how pathetic you’ve become.”

I said nothing. Silence was the only weapon I had left that she couldn't twist and use against me.

She reached out, her fingers trailing over a stray ribbon on my vanity, her touch light and mocking. “Did you really think Cassian would wait forever? Did you truly believe those childhood promises meant anything once the reality of your… condition… set in?”

My fingers tightened almost imperceptibly against the fabric of my dress. I remembered the way Cassian used to look at me, the way he swore no one would come between us. Now, those memories felt like echoes from a life that belonged to someone else.

“He used to talk about you constantly,” Lyra sighed, a sound of mock pity. “'Seraphina this. Seraphina that. My brave little warrior.' It was quite tedious, really.” She leaned down, her face inches from mine, her scent—sweet and cloying—filling my senses. “But people grow up, Seraphina. Men like Cassian need a Luna who can actually lead. A woman who carries the strength of a wolf, not a void where a soul should be.”

I kept my face smooth, a polished stone in the face of her storm. “Are you finished?” I asked, my voice coming out steadier than I expected.

Lyra blinked, the sheer lack of a reaction from me clearly grating on her. Her smile didn't falter, but it sharpened. She stepped closer, invading my space, her presence a suffocating weight.

“You should be grateful,” she hissed softly. “At least Father is letting you stay in this house for now. Though we both know wolfless girls don’t survive long outside the borders. Accidents happen to the weak, Seraphina. Rogues have a way of finding the ones who can't fight back.”

The threat was there, wrapped in silk, but I merely tilted my head. I didn't care about the borders. I didn't care about the accidents. In one month, I would be jumping into the Abyss of my own volition. Her threats were small compared to the fate I had already signed for myself.

“Does it hurt?” Lyra pressed, her voice dropping to a cruel murmur. “Watching him look at me the way he used to look at you? Knowing that when he touches my hand, he isn't thinking of you at all? He told me he’s relieved, Seraphina. Relieved that he finally feels… aligned. With a real wolf.”

I felt a sharp, momentary sting—the last remnants of a dying heart—but I didn't let it show. I realized then that Lyra wasn't just here to gloat; she was here to verify that I was broken. And I wouldn't give her that confirmation.

“If you came here to watch me break, I’m sorry to disappoint you,” I said, my eyes hardening. “I don’t care about this family, and I certainly don’t care about Cassian. He chose you. You two deserve each other.”

Lyra’s jaw tightened, her eyes flashing with a sudden, ugly heat. “Shut up!” she sneered, the mask of the sweet, fragile sister slipping for a moment. “You're a placeholder, a wolfless disgrace who overstayed her welcome. You were never meant to be special.”

The room fell into a heavy, suffocating silence. I let her words hang in the air, let them settle like dust. I had heard worse from the whispers in the halls and the voices in my own head.

“Are you done?” I asked again.

Something in my stillness—my utter detachment—seemed to unsettle her. She searched my face for a c***k, for a tear, for anything that indicated she still had power over me. When she found nothing but the cold reflection of her own cruelty, her fingers curled into fists at her sides.

“You still think you have time,” she whispered, leaning in one last time, her eyes glinting with a strange, knowing smirk. “You think the Blood Moon is just a ritual. But it demands proof of power, Seraphina. When that night comes, you’ll wish you had chosen exile.”

She straightened slowly, her expression shifting back into one of bored dissatisfaction. “You’re no fun anymore,” she muttered, turning toward the door.

At the threshold, she paused, looking back over her shoulder with a final, chilling smile. “Oh, and you should thank me. I’m the one who convinced the elders not to throw you out immediately. I told them it would look heartless. You’re allowed to stay… for now.”

The door closed with a soft, final thud.

I remained on the bed for a long time, staring at the empty space she had occupied. The room felt too quiet, the air too thin. I walked to the window, watching the long shadows of the pack grounds stretch toward the forest. Lyra thought she had won. She thought she had taken everything.

But as I stood there, I pressed a hand over my heart.

Suddenly, I felt it again.

It wasn't a wolf's presence. It wasn't the pack bond. It was a faint, steady warmth, pulsing beneath my palm like a hidden ember. It felt ancient. It felt powerful. And most of all, it felt like it was finally waking up.

My breath caught in my throat. The warmth didn't fade this time; it lingered, a golden thread of something impossible connecting me to a fate the pack couldn't even imagine.

“She thinks she’s won,” I whispered to the darkening sky.

I looked down at my hand, which was no longer trembling. The girl who answered to the name Seraphina Vale was fading, but something else was rising in her place.

The Blood Moon was coming. And for the first time, I wasn't afraid.