THE ALPHA I REJECTED

Chapter 9: The Rumor

Crestwood had a way of making private things public without anyone taking direct responsibility for it.

Aria heard the rumor on a Monday morning, from Bette at the diner where she stopped for coffee before her shift. Bette delivered it with the careful neutrality of someone who wanted to share information without appearing to enjoy sharing it — which meant she enjoyed it enormously.

"People are saying Lucien's being pressured to take a chosen mate," Bette said, refilling Aria's cup without being asked. "Now that the bond situation is — well. Now that things are the way they are. The elders apparently think an Alpha without a confirmed mate is a political liability."

Aria wrapped both hands around her cup. "That's pack business."

"Honey, in this town everything is everyone's business." Bette leaned on the counter. "They're saying Helena Crane is being considered. Elder family. Strong bloodline. She's been at the packhouse twice this week."

Aria nodded once. Took a sip of her coffee. Said, "Good for her," in a tone so even it could have been laminated.

She thought about it for the rest of the day with the focused intensity of someone who absolutely was not thinking about it.

It was logical. She understood that. She'd rejected the bond — cleanly, deliberately, with full awareness of what she was doing. Lucien's obligations to his pack didn't pause because she'd walked away. An Alpha needed stability. An Alpha without a mate was, by pack political standards, an open question mark — an invitation for challenge and speculation and the kind of internal fracturing that strong packs couldn't afford.

Helena Crane made sense. Elder bloodline. Pack-born. Someone who understood the life.

Aria closed the shop at six, went upstairs to her apartment, made dinner she didn't taste, and sat by her window watching the main street go quiet in the evening and telling herself with great conviction that what she was feeling was not jealousy.

It wasn't jealousy.

It was the bond. A biological response to information the bond interpreted as threatening. It wasn't real feeling — it was chemistry, it was instinct, it was the leftover frequency of something she'd already chosen to walk away from.

She went to bed at ten.

She didn't sleep until two.