The Rejected & Claimed

CHAPTER 02: THE BREAKING POINT

NYQUEE'S POV

A sharp cough rips through my chest, and before I can stop it, thick, metallic-tasting blood splatters onto the dirt floor. The taste lingers, bitter and heavy on my tongue. A fresh wave of pain tears through my ribs, each breath feeling like jagged knives slicing through my lungs. My body trembles, too weak, too broken. The bruises across my skin are only the visible wounds; the deeper ones, the ones that gnaw at my spirit, are far worse.

Lumi, my wolf, stirs sluggishly in the back of my mind. She’s trying, so hard, to push her strength into me, to heal me. But we don’t shift often, not like the others, and our healing is slow, too slow. Even as she tries to reach out, to comfort me, I know we’re beyond the point where mere strength will save me. The pain in my chest, in my soul, is too much. My body, my spirit, they're all worn down, frayed at the edges.

Still, I force myself to move. I push through the haze of pain, dragging my broken body toward the small shred of hope that’s left: the possibility of standing, of fighting back. But as I rise, a sharp heel slams into my leg, and I collapse back onto the dirt with a scream. The world tilts as my vision blurs, and for a moment, I feel like I might just let go.

Ashina stands over me, her cruel, mocking smile stretched across her face. She presses the pointed tip of her shoe into my throat, the pressure biting into my skin. Her voice rings out, sickly sweet and full of contempt.

"It would be so easy," she muses, her gaze never leaving my face. "Just a little more pressure, and you’d finally be out of your misery."

The words cut deeper than the pain in my body, and I can feel my heart racing against the weight of her heel. My pulse is deafening in my ears, drowning out everything else. Lumi growls, her voice weak in my mind, urging me to fight, to resist. But how? How can I fight when I’m so broken? When every part of me is screaming for mercy?

I don’t want to die. I refuse to die like this.

Lumi surges forward, lending me what little strength she has left. The force of her presence flares in my chest like a tiny flame, warming me against the coldness of the world. I won’t submit. Not to her. Not to anyone.

With a desperate grunt, I lift my leg and kick out, aiming for Ashina’s knee. The impact sends her sprawling, her smirk vanishing as she crashes to the dirt. The shock of it burns through me, but I don’t stop. I can’t stop.

Her minions gasp, their shrill screams ringing in my ears, but none of them make a move to stop me. They’re all watching. Silent. Almost like they’re waiting for something to happen.

Anger surges through me like a torrent of fire. It burns away the weakness, the self-doubt. Adrenaline drowns out the pain as I lunge at Ashina’s fallen form. Straddling her body, I slam my fist into her face. Again. And again. The satisfying crack of bone under my knuckles fills my ears, and for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel small. I don’t feel helpless. I feel alive, filled with rage, with defiance.

Blood splatters, hot and sticky, painting her face in red. I don’t care. I don’t care about the consequences. All that matters is that I’m not just a victim anymore. I am more than that.

A roar erupts around us, the sound of warriors forming a circle. Their shouts fill the air, some cheering me on, others urging Ashina to fight back. But she doesn’t. She never does. She’s all bark and no bite.

Just as I’m about to strike again, a tingling sensation rushes down my spine. Before I can react, huge, strong hands grip my arms, lifting me off the ground with terrifying ease. I thrash, my fists flailing, but it’s useless. Lumi snarls, fighting against my captor, but she can’t win this battle.

"Let me go!" I scream, struggling with all the strength I have left, my body jerking in every direction. But the grip on my arms tightens, and I’m yanked backward, away from Ashina. My feet leave the ground, and for a moment, I’m weightless.

And then, I see him.

Glaive Vaelmont. The Alpha. He stands before me, his towering frame casting a long shadow under the midday sun. Sweat dampens his hair, making it stick to his forehead in loose strands. His bare chest rises and falls with steady breaths, and despite the anger in my heart, I can’t help but notice how breathtaking he is. Powerful. Dominant. Everything an Alpha should be.

And I hate myself for noticing.

His lips curl into a smirk, and for a second, it feels like he knows exactly what I’m thinking. My face burns, and I quickly look away, my fists clenching at my sides, too ashamed to meet his gaze.

"Causing trouble again, Omega?" His voice is cold, cutting through the air with sharpness that makes my blood run cold.

"She attacked me first!" I snap, my frustration leaking out in every word. I’m not afraid anymore. Not of Ashina. Not of him. I’m done with being quiet. Done with cowering.

His smirk fades, replaced by a hard, unreadable expression. "Do you even know who she is?"

Before I can respond, his hand shoots out, gripping my throat with terrifying force. I gasp as my body slams into the rough bark of a tree, the air stolen from my lungs. His grip tightens, and the world tilts. My vision darkens, my nails clawing uselessly at his wrist as I struggle to breathe.

"She’s your Luna," he growls.

The words hit me like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, I can’t think. My body is numb. My mind is foggy. Luna. Ashina. The Alpha’s mate.

I gasp again, the weight of it sinking in. My chest tightens, my heart racing in panic as the world spins around me. I’m nothing. Nothing but a weak, broken Omega caught in a world that doesn’t care about me.

I try to fight. I try to push him off, but it’s like hitting a wall. His strength is unyielding, a constant, suffocating pressure that I can’t escape. My body is weak, my limbs like dead weight, and no matter how hard I thrash, I can’t break free from his grasp. Every attempt to resist is futile. My mind screams at me to fight, but my body is too broken, too worn down.

Just when I think I might black out from the lack of air, his grip loosens. He releases me, and I crumple to the ground like a ragdoll, gasping for breath. My hands claw at the dirt beneath me, my lungs desperate for oxygen. Every inhale is ragged, every exhale painful. It feels like I’ve been suffocating for hours, my body betraying me at every turn.

I can’t focus on anything but the pounding in my chest, the heat that floods my veins, the overwhelming weight of helplessness that wraps around my entire being. My whole body is trembling, and I want to scream, but I don’t have the strength. The world is spinning, tilting around me as I struggle to stay conscious.

Then, just as I’m about to lose myself to the darkness, I feel the ground shift beside me. I lift my head just enough to see Glaive crouching beside me. His face is unreadable, the coldness in his eyes sharper than ever. But for a split second, there’s something else. A hesitation. A softness in the way he looks at me. I don’t understand it. It’s almost like he regrets what just happened—but then his eyes darken, and the expression hardens back into stone, and I know. I know that softness was never meant for me.

"You will be locked in the dungeon for the next few days," he says, his voice cold and indifferent.

A chill washes over me, sinking deep into my bones. The dungeon. I’ve been there before. I know what happens in those walls. The isolation. The darkness. The beatings. Everything that shatters you, piece by piece. The terror rises in my chest, a thick, suffocating weight.

"No," I whisper, my voice hoarse and cracked, betraying my desperation. "No, please. I can’t—"

She started it.

The words slip out before I can stop them, a final attempt to justify myself. But it’s useless. Glaive doesn’t even look at me. He doesn’t care. My voice is just noise to him, something to dismiss and ignore. He turns away from me like I’m nothing more than a bothersome fly, an inconvenience he doesn’t have the patience to deal with. And then, just when I think it can’t get worse, it does.

"Before I forget," he says, his voice low, cold, and emotionless. "I, Glaive Vaelmont, reject you, Nyqxee, as my mate and future Luna."

The world stills.

Time seems to freeze, the weight of his words crashing down on me like an avalanche. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I can’t process it. It’s like a part of me—something deep inside, something I didn’t even realize I needed—is suddenly ripped away. The bond we shared, the connection that had once felt so unbreakable, is gone. And I’m left standing in its ruins, gasping for air, unable to comprehend what has just happened.

His words echo in my mind, repeating, taunting me. They’re like a cruel joke, a twisted punchline that I can’t escape. I had felt it—the bond between us. He had known, too. He’d felt it just as strongly as I had. And yet, he stood by and let them hurt me. He did nothing to stop the pain, the torment. He let me be broken, and now he’s taking the last thing I had left. The last shred of hope. The last glimmer of love.

Ashina stumbles beside him, her face bruised but victorious. Her blonde hair is disheveled, her lips curling into a smug, triumphant smile as she leans in close to Glaive, whispering something in his ear. I can’t hear her words, but I know exactly what they are. She’s gloating. She’s savoring the moment.

And then Glaive speaks again, his voice colder than ever.

"Lock her up," he orders, his words final and unyielding. "Whip her every day until I say otherwise."

The command cuts through me like a blade, and a sharp sting snaps against my cheek, dragging me back into the harsh reality of the moment. I barely have time to react before rough hands grab my arms, yanking me to my feet. I don’t fight. I don’t scream. I don’t beg. There’s nothing left to fight for, nothing left to say. I’ve already lost everything.

I’m dragged through the pack house, past wolves who don’t even spare me a second glance. Their eyes are cold, indifferent. They don’t care. I pass my parents—my mother and father—who don’t even stop this. They don’t intervene. They don’t try to protect me. It’s as if I’m invisible to them, just another pawn in the game they refuse to play.

By the time we reach the dungeon, I am numb. Completely, utterly numb. My body moves on autopilot, my mind a blank, empty void. The guards shove me inside, and I hit the ground hard. My body protests, but I don’t move. I don’t have the strength. I don’t have the will to get up anymore.

The door slams shut behind me, the sound of metal against stone echoing in the silence. Darkness swallows me whole.

And then it happens.

A sharp, searing pain explodes in my chest, like something inside me is breaking apart. My breath catches, my fingers claw at the cold stone floor. It burns. It hurts worse than any beating, worse than any wound. It’s like my heart is being torn from my chest, leaving nothing but a hollow, empty void in its place.

I let out a strangled sob, the sound foreign in my throat. For the first time in years, I cry. I cry for everything I’ve lost—the life I could have had, the family who abandoned me, the mate who was supposed to protect me, who was supposed to love me. I cry for the pieces of me that will never be whole again.

Lumi is silent. She’s withdrawn, curling into the deepest part of my mind. For the first time ever, I am truly alone.

Days pass in a blur. The guards come. They whip me. Over and over, the leather cracks across my back, my skin splitting open, blood pooling onto the cold dungeon floor. The pain should numb me by now, but it doesn’t. It never does.

They give me one meal a day. Stale bread and water. It tastes like ash in my mouth, but I don’t care.

I don’t see Lumi anymore. I don’t feel her presence in my mind. She’s gone, or maybe I’ve lost her. Either way, I don’t feel anything. Not anymore. Not after everything.

And then, on the third day, I rise to my feet. My body trembles with the effort, my muscles aching with every movement. But I force myself to stand, clutching my chest as the words slip out of my mouth, barely above a whisper.

"I, Nyqxee, accept your rejection, Glaive Vaelmont."

I don’t expect relief. I don’t expect freedom. I don’t expect anything anymore.

But nothing happens.