Page 35 of Choosing the Rejected Mate

Pack runs used to be sacred.Then they became unbearable.

When you lose a mate in front of everyone, people don’t only watch you fall.They watch how you stand afterward.Every shift.Every stumble.Every moment your wolf moves slower than she used to.They whisper about strength and weakness and whether rejection hollowed something out of you permanently.

I learned to run alone because alone has fewer witnesses.

My wolf presses harder.Not alone.

I close my eyes.“No.”

She shows me amber eyes, broad shoulders, and a mouth soft with patience until it isn’t.Daniel standing at the bakery door, walking away because I said slow.Daniel keeping his hands on the counter until I put one on my waist.Daniel pulling back because he felt the fear flicker through me before I even understood it myself.

My chest aches.

“Oh, this is manipulative,” I mutter.“Using emotional evidence before coffee is low.”

My wolf is not sorry.

****

By six, I’m in thebakery, and Patricia is already being difficult.

The oven runs ten degrees too hot, the mixer coughs twice just to remind me it’s technically alive but resents everyone, and Maisie walks in wearing a shirt that saysAsk Me About My Boss’s Love Life.

I stare at her, and she beams.“Morning.”

“No.”I point at her clothing.

“You didn’t even read it properly.”

“I read enough.”

“It’s marketing.”

“It’s workplace harassment.”

“It’s support.”

“It’s treason printed on cotton.”

She places two coffees on the counter and spins, showing me the back.Team Handyman.

I point at the door.“Leave.”

“You need me.”

“I need fewer enemies.”

“Same thing.”

I take the coffee because I may be betrayed, but I’m not stupid.

“Did he text?”she asks.

“No.”

“Did you text him?”

“No.”