Chapter 2 : Night of Rejection

Lyra's POV

Lyra moved quietly through the banquet hall, head down, doing her best to go unnoticed. Tonight was her eighteenth birthday, though no one knew- or cared. In her world, birthdays weren’t celebrated. They were just another reminder that she was alone.

She could hear laughter and music echoing through the hall, a stark reminder of the life she was excluded from. Her hand shook slightly as she cleared plates, but she pushed her emotions down, focusing on her tasks. It was just another night. She had learned not to expect anything more.

“Happy birthday, Lyra.” A gentle voice echoed in her mind.

Lyra stilled, surprised. Her wolf, a spirit that had always felt more like a dream than reality, had only recently begun to speak to her. Lyra was grateful for her presence, but also confused; she didn’t even know her wolf’s name.

“Thank you… I didn’t know you could talk to me like this,” Lyra thought back, feeling a strange warmth. “Do you have a name?”

“My name is Thalia,” her wolf responded, a gentle strength evident in her tone. “And I’m here for you, no matter what. Don’t forget that.”

Lyra smiled faintly, the warmth of her wolf’s presence comforting her, even if only slightly.

As the night wore on, the crowd grew louder, and Lyra caught glimpses of the pack’s elite—Alpha Lucien and Luna Mara, along with their son, Aiden. He was the pack’s golden boy, known for his strength and charm. Lyra’s gaze landed on him, and her heart fluttered.

And then, everything changed.

As she approached to clear a table near him, her body stiffened. A strange sensation washed over her, her heart pounding as an intoxicating scent enveloped her senses—a mix of cedar and rain. Her pulse quickened, and she felt a tug, an undeniable pull toward him. She looked up, her eyes meeting his. It felt like the air between them crackled, her heart racing with the sudden realization.

Aiden… He’s my mate.

“Thalia, it’s him! It’s really him!” she whispered in her mind, excitement and wonder flooding her.

“Be careful, Lyra…” Thalia’s voice was soft but firm, a hint of caution underlying her words.

Unable to resist, Lyra took a few hesitant steps toward Aiden, her gaze locked on him as if he were the only person in the room. She barely noticed her surroundings, her heart pounding louder with each step. She stopped mere inches away from him, her entire being drawn to the one person who was supposed to make her feel safe, to lift her out of this life.

Aiden turned, and for a brief, beautiful moment, she thought she saw recognition in his eyes. But then, his expression changed, a coldness settling over him as he looked her up and down, his lip curling in disgust.

“Is this some kind of joke?” he said, his voice loud enough for everyone around them to hear. “An Omega slave? You thought you’d get my attention by coming near me?”

The laughter that followed stung like a slap. Lyra’s heart shattered, her spirit crumbling as he continued, each word landing like a blow.He hesitated, glancing at Seraphine before returning his gaze to her. “I think it’s time you understand your place,” he said, his voice flat and devoid of emotion.

Lyra felt her heart shatter. “Aiden… I thought… we’re meant to be together.” The words slipped out before she could stop herself, the desperation evident in her tone.

He took a step back, as if her words repulsed him. “No. I reject you, Lyra.” The words hung heavy in the air, a death sentence that echoed in her mind. “You’re nothing but a slave. I will not be bound to someone like you.”

The laughter of the crowd roared to life again, but all Lyra could hear was the crushing weight of his rejection. It was a finality she had feared but never truly believed would come. She felt as though the ground had fallen away beneath her, leaving her suspended in a void of despair.

“You disgust me,” he sneered. “You’re nothing but a lowly servant. Did you actually think someone like me would want you as a mate?”

Lyra stumbled back, barely able to breathe, her mind reeling from the rejection. The laughter grew louder, the crowd’s disdainful sneers and mocking whispers surrounding her. She wanted to disappear, to escape the shame flooding her.

“Lyra, I’m here,” Thalia said, her voice firm, but Lyra could feel the ache of betrayal seeping through her.

Before she could fully process the pain, Seraphine appeared, a cruel smile stretching across her face as she sauntered up to Lyra. “Oh, look at you, pathetic little Omega. Rejected by the Alpha’s son. How sad.” She laughed, her friends joining in, their voices dripping with malice.

Lyra took a shaky step back, but Seraphine seized her arm, her grip painful. “What, you’re running away already? The fun’s just getting started,” she sneered.

Seraphine’s friends surrounded her, their faces twisted in glee as they dragged her out of the hall and into the garden. Lyra struggled, but they were too strong, their laughter ringing in her ears.

Once outside, they shoved her to the ground. Seraphine loomed over her, a gleam of satisfaction in her eyes as she looked down on Lyra’s trembling form. “You thought you could stand near us, like an equal? You’re nothing, Lyra. Nothing.”

A kick landed hard against Lyra’s ribs, the force of it sending her sprawling across the ground. She gasped in pain, trying to curl in on herself, but Seraphine’s friends pulled her up, forcing her to face them.

They took turns mocking and hitting her, each slap and kick tearing down whatever hope she’d held onto. Seraphine watched with a smug smile, enjoying every moment.

Finally, she pulled a small, silver knife from her belt, twirling it in her hand. “Maybe we should leave a mark on you, so you remember your place,” she said, her voice icy.

Lyra’s eyes widened, and she tried to crawl back, but Seraphine grabbed her by the hair, yanking her back. Without hesitation, Seraphine pressed the blade against her skin, dragging it down her arm. The pain was immediate and searing, the silver burning into her flesh.

“Stop! Please…” Lyra’s voice was weak, her strength fading with each moment.

But Seraphine only laughed, cutting her again, deeper this time, ensuring the wounds would scar.

Lyra lay sprawled in the cold dirt of the garden, the remnants of her dignity slipping away with every second under Seraphine’s mocking gaze. The night air bit into her exposed skin, and the faint, far-off music of the banquet only made her misery sharper—a reminder that she was supposed to be celebrating her birthday, not lying bruised and bloodied in the mud.

Seraphine laughed, a sound sharp and cutting, as she circled Lyra like a predator savoring her prey. Her friends surrounded them, watching with smirks that sent a fresh wave of shame rolling over Lyra.

“You really thought you could stand next to Aiden? Look at yourself,” Seraphine sneered, nudging Lyra’s chin up with the toe of her pointed heel. “Pathetic.”

Lyra tried to pull back, but Seraphine dug her heel into her jaw, pinning her face to the ground. The pressure sent a fiery pain up her jawbone, and Lyra’s mouth filled with the metallic taste of blood.

One of Seraphine’s friends, a girl with auburn hair and cruel, glittering eyes, laughed as she leaned down to yank on Lyra’s tangled hair. “She thought she’d be his mate! A little nobody like her,” she scoffed, twisting her hand deeper into Lyra’s hair until tears pricked the corners of Lyra’s eyes.

The words stung, but Lyra pressed her lips together, willing herself not to cry out. Thalia stirred in her mind, but Lyra couldn’t even draw strength from her wolf—she was too worn down, too humiliated. Hold on, she told herself, clutching to her wolf’s silent support. Just survive.

“Get up, Omega!” Seraphine demanded, yanking Lyra by the arm and forcing her to stand. Lyra’s legs wobbled beneath her, barely able to hold her weight, but she obeyed. She knew any resistance would only make things worse.

Seraphine tilted her head, her eyes narrowing with cruel amusement. “Still standing? Let’s see how long you last.” She raised her hand and slapped Lyra across the face, the impact ringing in her ears. Before she could recover, Seraphine’s friends joined in, their hands and feet slamming into her with vicious delight.

Every kick and punch tore at her fragile resolve, but Lyra refused to cry out, biting her lip until she tasted blood. Her skin burned, her vision blurred, but she held her silence, determined not to give them the satisfaction of her pain.

“Stay with me, Lyra,” Thalia’s voice echoed faintly, her presence soft and comforting.

But Seraphine’s malice only grew when she saw that Lyra wouldn’t beg. “Oh, you’re tougher than you look. Maybe we need to make sure you remember this lesson,” Seraphine whispered, pulling a small silver blade from her boot. Its edge glinted dangerously in the moonlight, a terrifying promise in the cold air.

Lyra’s heart pounded, her eyes wide as she tried to scramble back, but Seraphine gripped her arm, her fingers digging into the bruised flesh. “You should be grateful, you know,” Seraphine said softly, dragging the knife against Lyra’s forearm. “This will leave a mark. So you’ll never forget who you are.”

The pain was like fire, searing and sharp, tearing a cry from Lyra’s throat. The silver burned as it sliced her skin, sending shockwaves through her body as she crumpled, clutching her arm to her chest. Seraphine only laughed, savoring the fear and agony in Lyra’s eyes.

“Oh, she screams now,” Seraphine mocked, pressing the blade deeper into Lyra’s shoulder, twisting it until Lyra could barely see through the haze of pain. “That’s better. Finally remembering your place, aren’t you?”

Lyra’s breathing grew shallow, each inhale painful as the silver continued to tear through her skin, leaving jagged, angry marks that would scar. She felt her strength slipping, the pain blurring into numbness as her body began to shut down.

Finally, Seraphine grew bored, wiping the blade on Lyra’s tattered dress with a disdainful sneer. She let Lyra slump to the ground, her body battered, blood seeping into the dirt. “Take her away,” she called to the guards, her voice bored. “She’s wasting space here.”

Finally, satisfied, she dropped Lyra’s limp body to the ground. “You’re nothing but a stain on this pack. "

As the guards approached, Lyra felt herself slipping into unconsciousness, the pain too much to bear. She barely registered the strong hands lifting her, the rough shove as they dragged her back inside and down to the dark, cold cell beneath the pack house. They threw her to the floor, her battered body unable to resist.

As darkness closed in, she heard one of the guards mutter to another. “She’s barely breathing. Call the healer,” he said, his voice grim.

The door slammed shut, and Lyra was left alone in the cold, silent cell, her blood pooling around her as her consciousness slipped away.

“Lyra… stay with me,” Thalia’s voice echoed faintly in her mind. “Hold on.”

But Lyra couldn’t answer. The last thing she felt was Thalia’s comforting presence before everything faded to black.