The Rejected Luan's Chosen Path

Chapter 5: Best Friends?

Angelina

The moon hung high, a pale guardian in the ink-black sky, casting ghostly beams over the dense, brooding forest. The cold light trickled through the canopy, painting the ground in shifting silver patterns that seemed to dance with every whisper of the wind. The general’s instructions echoed in my mind, each word etched like a map carved into my thoughts. “Follow the northern trail until the stream splits, then veer east. You’ll know you’re close when you smell the diesel.”

The chill night air bit through the thin fabric of my hoodie, the only barrier between me and the creeping cold. My jeans clung to my legs, damp from the dew-soaked underbrush, and my worn boots muffled the crunch of fallen leaves. The scent of pine mingled with the damp earth, grounding me as I moved like a shadow through the undergrowth. Every step felt like a trial—my agility, my senses, my willpower—all put to the test. Twigs snapped underfoot, and the distant rustle of unseen creatures prickled the edges of my nerves. But I pressed on, forcing each breath to stay even, each movement to remain deliberate.

A little faster, Angelina, Nyra's voice whispered in my mind, steady and encouraging. We’re almost there.

A sudden growl sliced through the night, low and guttural, vibrating through the ground beneath me. My heart stuttered, a sharp thud against my ribs, but I didn’t freeze.

Trust your instincts, Nyra urged. We’ve trained for this. You can handle it.

I dropped into a crouch, my pulse pounding in my ears, my eyes straining to pierce the shadows. There—a pair of glowing eyes reflected the moonlight, a rogue wolf emerging from the darkness. Its matted fur bristled, and a low snarl curled from its lips as it crept closer. I could feel its hunger, its desperation seeping into the air like poison.

You’re stronger than it, Nyra reminded me, her voice a warm presence in my mind. We won’t lose ourselves like that.

When it lunged, I was ready.

The wolf sprang, a blur of snarling teeth and claws, but I sidestepped, driving my elbow into its ribs as it sailed past. A sharp yelp burst from its throat, but I wasn’t done. Spinning on my heel, I delivered a swift kick to its hind leg, sending it sprawling.

Good, Nyra praised, pride swelling in her voice. Keep moving. Don’t let it recover.

I didn’t wait for it to recover. My legs propelled me forward, adrenaline surging through my veins, my pulse a roaring drumbeat in my ears. The forest closed in around me, branches clawing at my skin, roots snatching at my boots. But I was faster. I had to be.

We’re almost at the stream, Nyra urged. Just a little further.

The distant sound of rushing water filled my ears—the stream. My muscles burned, but I pushed harder, lungs screaming for air until I burst through the trees and skidded to a halt at the water’s edge.

The rogue was nearly on me.

Jump!

Without hesitation, I leaped into the icy current. The cold hit me like a slap, stealing my breath and numbing my limbs. The water tugged at me, pulling me downstream, but I fought against it, my hands grappling for slippery rocks to propel myself forward.

You’re doing great. Nyra’s voice steadied me, even as the chill gnawed at my bones—just a little more.

On the bank, the rogue snarled, pacing in frustration, but it didn’t follow. After a tense moment, it melted back into the shadows, leaving me shivering and soaked but alive.

We did it, Nyra whispered, relief and pride mingling in her voice.

I dragged myself onto the opposite shore, my body trembling from the cold, my clothes clinging like a second skin. But there was no time to recover. I forced myself to my feet, my legs shaky beneath me, and veered east as instructed. The forest grew denser, the terrain rougher, but I pressed on, driven by the fire burning in my chest.

We’re not just surviving, Nyra said firmly. We’re becoming stronger. We’re going to be an Elite Warrior.

The scent of diesel hit me like a beacon, sharp and acrid in the cool night air. My heart leaped, pushing me forward through the final stretch of trees. When I stumbled into the clearing, my breath caught in my throat.

The bus sat at the edge of the forest, its rusted frame bathed in the harsh glow of its headlights. The paint was chipped, the metal scarred from years of wear, but to me, it was more than a battered vehicle. It was hope.

I hid behind a nearby tree and quickly changed into dry clothes before walking to the bus.

This is it, Nyra whispered, her voice soft with awe—our new beginning.

I hesitated at the door, my hand hovering over the cold metal railing. My heart pounded against my ribs louder than ever. Was I really doing this? Leaving everything behind?

Yes, Nyra answered firmly. We deserve better.

I climbed aboard. The moment my foot hit the metal floor, a heavy silence descended. Every head turned, a dozen pairs of eyes pinning me in place. Their gazes were sharp, assessing, filled with a mixture of curiosity and disdain.

“What’s a rogue doing here?” someone muttered from the back.

“No pack,” another whispered. “She won’t last a week.”

Ignore them, Nyra urged, her voice a shield against their judgment. They don’t know your strength.

I ignored them, forcing my chin up even though my insides twisted with apprehension. I found an empty seat near the middle of the bus, the cracked vinyl cushion lumpy beneath me, reeking faintly of old sweat and fear. Perfect.

You belong here, Nyra assured me. We’ll show them.

As the bus rumbled to life, I stared out the grime-smeared window, watching the trees blur past in streaks of shadow and light. The weight of their stares burned into my back, but I refused to show weakness—not here, not now.

You’re not alone, Nyra whispered, her presence a steady warmth in my mind. You have me.

And as the miles slipped away behind us, I realized Nyra was right. I wasn’t alone. Not anymore.

The bus rattled beneath us, its worn-out shocks groaning with every bump in the road. I stared out the window, letting the darkness blur past, my thoughts as empty and hollow as the miles slipping away behind us. It stopped several times along the way, collecting recruits before it rambled on. The seat next to me had been empty for most of the ride, and I’d grown used to the solitude. The quiet hum of the engine was the only sound keeping me company, other than Nyra sporadically speaking to me in my mind.

But then the seat creaked.

I barely glanced over, expecting some random passenger looking for a spot. Instead, a guy slid into the seat beside me like he belonged there. His dark hair was still damp from the night air, curling slightly at the ends. His sharp blue eyes caught the dim, flickering light above us, gleaming with a kind of lazy confidence that made it impossible to ignore him.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low, smooth, with just a hint of something warmer underneath. “Name’s Beck.”

I didn’t respond right away; I just stared at him, trying to figure out what his angle was. There was something about the way he carried himself—relaxed, sure of who he was, like nothing, and no one could shake him. That kind of confidence was dangerous. I’d learned that the hard way.

Finally, I muttered, “Angelina.”

His smile widened just a fraction, like he’d won some silent battle by getting me to talk. We sat in silence for a while, the only sound being the soft rumble of the bus and the occasional creak of the seats. I figured that would be it, and he’d leave me alone. But no such luck.

“So,” Beck said, glancing at me from the corner of his eye, “you heading to the same place as the rest of us?”

I shrugged, not really in the mood for small talk. “Guess so.”

“You guess?” His eyebrow quirked like he found that amusing. “Elite Warrior training is not exactly a vacation spot, you know.”

I didn’t respond, hoping he’d take the hint. But Beck didn’t seem like the type to give up easily.

“I mean, the way I see it,” he continued, leaning back in his seat like we were old friends, “you’ve got two kinds of people on this bus. The ones who are here because they want to be, and the ones who are here because they’ve got nowhere else to go.”

I snorted before I could stop myself. “What about the ones who don’t give a damn either way?”

Beck chuckled, a low, easy sound that somehow made the cold night feel a little less suffocating. “Fair enough.”

For a while, we just sat there, the conversation slipping into a comfortable silence. But I could feel him watching me out of the corner of his eye like he was trying to figure me out. I hated that.

“You know,” I said finally, breaking the quiet, “you’re probably better off avoiding me.”

That got his attention. He turned to face me fully, one brow raised in curiosity. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

I kept my eyes on the window, watching the dark blur of trees flash by. “I went rogue. Chose it, actually. And from the looks of things, the recruits don’t seem to like rogues much.” I shrugged like it didn’t matter. Like the isolation hadn’t been eating at me. “So, if you’re smart, you’ll steer clear.”

Beck was quiet for a second. Then he let out a short laugh. “Yeah, well, I’ve never been accused of being smart or given a s**t what anyone else thinks.”

I glanced at him, surprised to find no judgment in his eyes. Just… understanding. As if he knew exactly what it felt like to be on the outside, looking in.

“I don’t care if you’re a rogue,” he said, his voice softer now but no less certain. “It really doesn’t matter to me. If anything, it makes you more interesting than the other recruits.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I said nothing. But Beck wasn’t done.

“So, what’s your story?” he asked, his tone casual, but there was something sharp beneath it, like he wasn’t going to let this go.

“There’s no story,” I muttered, hoping that would be enough.

But Beck just leaned in a little, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Come on, Angelina. Someone as beautiful as you doesn’t just choose to go rogue for no reason. What happened?”

I clenched my jaw, staring hard at the darkness outside. I could feel the words rising in my throat, bitter and heavy, but I didn’t want to say them out loud. Saying them made it real. But Beck’s presence—steady, patient—wore down my defenses in a way I hadn’t expected.

“My mate rejected me,” I whispered, the words tasting like ash on my tongue. “He is the alpha of my pack. He looked at me like I was nothing and just… tossed me aside for another. But that wasn’t all. He decided that though he didn’t want me as his Luna, it didn’t mean he couldn’t keep me as his side piece. Regrettably, for him, I preferred to turn rogue rather than be the other woman, which is why I left. I knew if I didn’t, he wouldn’t leave me alone.”

Beck was silent for a moment, and I risked a glance at him. His blue eyes had darkened, a flicker of anger flashing there, not pity—never pity—but something fiercer, protective in a way that made my chest tighten.

“Your former mate is a piece of s**t who didn’t deserve you,” Beck muttered, his jaw tight. “What kind of douchebag does that to his mate?”

I blinked, surprised by the raw conviction in his voice. “You don’t even know him.”

“Don’t need to,” Beck shot back, his gaze never leaving mine. “I know the type. Power-hungry assholes who think being alpha makes them better than everyone else. He thinks he can trample over everyone as long as he gets what he wants. Real strength is not about titles or ranks. It’s about loyalty and respect, which is something your ex-mate lacks, considering he rejected you.”

His words hit something deep inside me, a wound I didn’t even realize was still bleeding. For the first time in a long time, I felt seen.

“What about you?” I asked quietly. “Why are you here?”

Beck’s jaw tightened, and for a second, I thought he wouldn’t answer. But then he sighed, running a hand through his damp hair.

“My dad’s an alpha,” he said, his voice low, steady. “Or was. I was supposed to be the next Alpha of the Alabaster Pack. But when he discovered that I was gay, he stripped me of my rank and gave the position to my brother. The pack agreed with his decision. So, I decided to join the Elite Warriors instead. I figured I’d rather be here than be shamed for something I can’t control.”

His words hung between us, heavy with unspoken pain and defiance. I felt an unexpected kinship with him, like we were two sides of the same broken coin, both cast out for things beyond our control.

“Your father is a fool,” I murmured, and for the first time, Beck’s smirk softened into something real, something vulnerable.

“Damn right, he is. My brother is a lazy womanizer who spends my father’s money thoughtlessly. The pack will be bankrupt by the end of the year,” he said, nudging my shoulder gently. “But that’s the pack's problem, not mine. As for you, you’re stuck with me, Angelina, the Rogue. I’m your new best friend now, whether you like it or not.”

A small smile tugged at my lips before I could stop it. “I already have a best friend. But I can use another one.”

Beck’s lip quirked. “And that’s why I’m here, new bestie.”

As the bus carried us deeper into the unknown, I realized something. Maybe I wasn’t as alone as I thought on this new adventure. Maybe, just maybe, I’d found someone who understood what it meant to be rejected, to be cast out. And perhaps that was enough to start the healing process.