The Rejected Omega

Chapter Nine – Whispers in the Pack

The morning sun rose over the pack grounds, warm and bright, but Elara felt none of its comfort. She had spent most of the night awake, staring at the ceiling of her small chamber. Whenever she closed her eyes, she heard the council’s voices again. Rejected Omega. Weak. Worthless. Each word had cut into her until her chest ached.

But the pack needed her. Patients needed her. So she forced herself out of bed before the first training horns sounded. She washed her face, tied her dark hair back, and slipped into her healer’s robe. The fabric was plain, but it was the only thing that ever gave her a sense of purpose.

She gathered her satchel of herbs and walked toward the infirmary.

The village was already alive. Smoke curled from chimneys, and the clatter of wooden practice swords echoed from the training yard. Elara kept her head down as she passed.

Whispers rose almost at once.

“There she is.”

“The King’s… mate.”

“An Omega? Impossible.”

Elara’s stomach tightened. She gripped the strap of her satchel tighter and quickened her steps.

A group of women at the well glanced at her and leaned close to each other. One shook her head, another smirked. Elara didn’t need to hear the words to know what they were saying.

She’s not worthy. She’ll never be Luna.

Her cheeks burned, but she kept walking until the infirmary came into view.

Inside, the air smelled of herbs and clean linen. This was her safe place. Here, she could push aside the world’s voices and lose herself in the steady rhythm of healing.

Patients were already waiting—two warriors with training injuries, a child with a fever, and an elderly woman with stiff joints. Elara greeted each one softly, checked their wounds, and moved from bed to bed. Her hands were steady even if her heart was not.

“Thank you, Healer,” the child’s mother said when Elara placed a cooled cloth on the girl’s forehead. The gratitude in her voice surprised Elara. For a moment, it made the storm inside her quiet.

Yes. Here, she mattered. Even if only in small ways.

By midday, the infirmary had calmed. Elara stepped outside to gather fresh herbs. She walked along the edge of the forest, basket in hand, breathing in the scent of pine and damp earth.

Her mind, however, refused to stay still.

She thought of Kaelen. Of the way he had stood in the council hall, his voice firm, his eyes burning as he defended her. No one had ever spoken of her like that before. No one had ever believed in her so fiercely.

But was he wrong? Could he be blinded by the bond? The elders’ voices still echoed louder than his.

Not fit to be Luna. Not strong enough.

Her hand trembled as she reached for a sprig of feverfew.

“You work even when the sun is high.”

The deep voice startled her. She spun around, nearly dropping her basket.

Kaelen stood a few steps away, his dark cloak brushing the ground, golden eyes fixed on her. How had she not heard him approach? His presence always carried weight, like the air itself shifted around him.

“My work never ends,” she said quickly, looking away.

He stepped closer. “And yet, you carry it all alone.”

Elara’s throat tightened. She did not know how to answer. She bent back to her herbs, pretending to study the leaves.

Kaelen’s shadow fell across her. “I heard the whispers today,” he said, voice low but steady. “Do not think I am blind to them.”

Her heart clenched. “Then you know what they say. That I don’t belong. That I can’t be your Luna.”

“I know what they say,” Kaelen replied. “But I know what I see.”

Slowly, she lifted her gaze to his. His eyes were fierce, steady, unshaken.

“I see a woman who wakes before the sun to serve her people. A woman who heals without asking for praise. A woman who has endured rejection but still stands. Tell me, Elara—how is that not strength?”

Her lips parted, but no words came. The weight of his certainty pressed against the walls she had built inside herself.

She shook her head, looking down. “Strength is not enough for a Luna.”

“Then I will teach you the rest,” Kaelen said firmly. “But you will never stand alone again.”

The words wrapped around her like warmth, but also like chains. She wanted to believe him, but fear held her back. What if she failed him? What if the whispers were right?

Before she could speak, a horn sounded from the village. Urgent, sharp.

Kaelen’s head snapped toward the sound, his expression hardening. “Stay here,” he ordered. Then, after a pause, softer, “I’ll return for you.”

And then he was gone, moving swift as a shadow back toward the pack grounds.

Elara stood frozen, her basket clutched to her chest, the echo of his words still ringing in her ears.

You will never stand alone again.

But even as her heart raced, the whispers of the pack lingered. And Elara knew that her greatest battle was not with them, nor even with Kaelen. It was with herself.