His Rejected Omega

Eight

Kane

The grand hall of Blackridge Manor gleamed with polished marble and the morning’s light.

At the head of the room table sat Elder Ruben, my grandfather the patriarch of the Council, his silver hair like a crown of frost.

To his right was my father, Jarrett, stiff as ever, his expression carved from granite.

The rest of the elders filled the long table, their sharp gazes following us as we entered, hand in hand.

The room went silent.

Rumors had already spread across the entire city of Blackridge.

Everyone knew the Alpha’s wedding had been sudden and unexpected.

A wedding born out of obligation, not affection.

It wasn't even supposed to be my wedding. I just had to return home as a married man.

Funny, isn't it?

Most people had expected Ella to flee by dawn, or worse, end up bruised.

The city whispered cruelly that the Alpha of Blackridge would soon become a widower, that his Luna wouldn’t survive the night under his roof.

Instead, here we were walking in together, fingers intertwined.

Ella’s posture was perfect, chin high, every step measured. The quiet strength in her reminded me of the wolves who survive winter storms, not by fighting the wind, but by standing tall against it.

The elders’ eyes widened slightly. No one had expected this.

Elder Ruben’s lips curved in the faintest smirk. “Alpha Kane. Luna Ella. You seem… well-rested.”

If only he knew.

I inclined my head respectfully. “We are, Grandpa.”

We began the formal greetings, first to Ruben, then my father, then to each family member by rank.

Ella bowed with grace, her movements precise. Not once did she falter, even when I caught the faint flicker of mockery in my father’s gaze.

The greetings concluded, and we moved to the breakfast table. I couldn't wait to get this over with as the Council Elders came next after this family gathering.

Every seat was filled, every gaze sharp and focused on us.

The scent of roast venison and freshly baked bread did little to cut through the tension.

Ella took her seat beside me, her back straight. She didn’t touch her food. Neither did I.

Then, from the far end of the table, a voice rang out, smooth and poisoned.

Irene Evans, my uncle Bertram’s mate, dabbed her lips delicately with a napkin before speaking. “Tell me, Alpha Kane,” she began, her tone dripping with false sweetness, “do you realize the entire city is hoping you’ll become a widower soon?”

The table froze. Forks stilled. A few sharp intakes of breath broke the silence.

Ella’s fingers tightened around her cup, but she didn’t lift her gaze.

My wolf bristled. A low growl threatened to rise, but I swallowed it back, turning to Irene with a smile so cold it could have frozen blood.

“Is that so?” I asked softly. “Then they’ll be disappointed.”

I leaned back in my chair, my eyes glowing faintly with the golden edge of my wolf. “Because I don’t plan on letting my Luna die. And anyone who tries to make that happen will meet the same fate.”

Irene’s face paled.

The silence stretched long and heavy, thick with unspoken warning.

My father looked displeased, but even he didn’t challenge me.

Then, to everyone’s surprise, Ella finally spoke, her voice, calm, steady, and devastatingly polite.

“Perhaps they should stop hoping for death,” she said, setting down her cup, “and start hoping for peace. Because unlike most here, I intend to survive.”

A murmur rippled through the table.

Her voice wasn’t loud, but it carried the unmistakable resonance of her wolf beneath it, soft yet commanding.

I couldn’t hide the smirk tugging at my lips. Spirits, she was magnificent.

Let them whisper. Let them doubt.

If the city was hoping I’d become a widower, they were in for a long, bitter wait. Because Luna Ella of Blackridge was not just surviving, she was going to make every last one of them choke on their words.

And I’d be right beside her when she did.

⸻

That night, when the manor fell silent, I stood on the balcony overlooking the moonlit forest. My wolf stirred restlessly within me, pacing, protective.

Behind me, I sensed her presence.

Ella, quiet as snowfall. She stood at the door, wrapped in her shawl.

“You shouldn’t listen to them,” she said softly. “About… the widower thing.”

I turned, meeting her gaze. “I don’t.”

“Good,” she murmured, looking down. “Because I’m not dying anytime soon.”

I smiled faintly. “I know.”

The wind carried her scent to me. It was wild lavender and a hint of courage.

In that moment, I realized something I hadn’t dared admit before.

The city might hope for my Luna’s downfall.

But I, Alpha Kane of Blackridge had already decided.

I would burn the world before I let this Luna go.