ELENA POV
"I, Cassian Vandenberg, reject you, Elena Hartwood, as my mate."
The words hit me like silver bullets, each one tearing through my chest.
I stood at the altar in white silk, the full moon bright above us, every member of the Obsidian Pack watching.
I had never seen Cassian's hateful expression before, and it wasn't aimed at me.
"Your father murdered my family," he said, his voice carrying across the ceremonial grounds, "your bloodline is poison."
I tried to speak, but nothing came out.
The bond between us, the thing that had hummed and pulled and made me feel complete for the first time in my life, started to crack.
"Cassian, please," I whispered, reaching for him, "let me explain."
He stepped back as I'd burned him.
"There's nothing to explain," he said, "you're the daughter of a monster, I was a fool to think the bond meant anything."
His uncle Marcus stood beside him, one hand on Cassian's shoulder, steady and supportive.
Marcus looked at me with something like pity.
"I'm sorry, dear," Marcus said softly, "but the truth always comes out."
I saw Victoria then, Cassian's ex-fiancée, standing in the front row.
She wore red, which should have been my first warning; one wears red to a mating ceremony.
She smiled at me, slow and satisfied.
The bond shattered.
I'd heard about rejected mates, read the stories, and thought I understood what it meant.
I understood nothing.
Pain exploded in my chest, white hot and devastating, like someone reached inside and ripped out my heart.
I collapsed, my knees hitting the stone altar steps hard enough to bruise.
Blood soaked through my white dress, blooming across my chest where the bond had been.
The supernatural wound that came with rejection, visible proof of a severed connection.
"Elena!"
Someone shouted my name, but the voice sounded far away.
I looked up through tears and saw Damien, Cassian's younger brother, pushing through the crowd.
His face was pale, desperate, like he wanted to stop this but couldn't.
Cassian turned away from me.
He didn't even look back.
Marcus guided him down from the altar, whispering something I couldn't hear, and Cassian nodded.
The pack members started to whisper, their voices blending into a buzz I couldn't separate.
"Her father killed Alpha and Luna."
"Can't believe Cassian almost bonded with her."
"The Hartwood name is cursed."
I forced myself to stand, my legs shaking, blood still spreading across my dress.
No one helped me.
Sophie, my best friend, tried to reach me, but someone held her back.
I saw her struggling, crying, mouthing my name.
I couldn't stay here.
I ran.
Down the altar steps, through the crowd that parted like I carried a disease, past the decorations I'd helped hang this morning.
White flowers and silver ribbon meant to celebrate the happiest day of my life.
I made it to my car somehow, my hands shaking so hard I could barely get the key in the ignition.
The engine roared to life, and I drove.
I didn't know where I was going, didn't care, just knew I had to get away.
Away from Cassian's hatred, from Marcus's pity, from Victoria's smile.
Away from the pack that had just watched me bleed and did nothing.
The road blurred through my tears.
My chest burned where the bond wound kept bleeding, soaking through the bandages I didn't have.
I drove for an hour, maybe two, until my hands stopped shaking enough to realize I couldn't see the road anymore.
I pulled over on some random highway shoulder, surrounded by darkness and trees.
The moment I put the car in park, my stomach lurched.
I barely got the door open before I vomited onto the gravel.
Once, twice, three times until there was nothing left.
I stayed bent over, hands on my knees, gasping for air.
The rejection, I thought, my body couldn't handle the trauma.
But even as I thought it, I knew it wasn't true.
I'd been feeling sick for weeks now, brushing it off as stress from the upcoming ceremony.
The exhaustion that hits me every afternoon.
The way certain smells made me nauseous.
The missed period I'd ignored because I had too much to plan.
No.
No, no, no.
I straightened slowly, one hand pressed against my stomach.
The timing, it couldn't be.
That night three months ago, the pack celebrated after Cassian closed his biggest business deal.
I remembered drinking wine, dancing, and Cassian pulling me into a dark hallway.
Everything after that was fuzzy, like trying to remember a dream.
I'd woken up the next morning in my own bed, alone, with gaps in my memory I couldn't explain.
But my body remembered something.
"Please no," I whispered to the empty night.
I pulled out my phone with shaking hands, searched for the nearest pharmacy.
Twenty minutes away.
I got back in the car and drove, my mind racing faster than the engine.
If I were pregnant, if I were carrying Cassian's child, he'd just rejected me.
Rejected us.
He'd made it clear what he thought of my bloodline, calling it poison in front of everyone.
What would he do to a baby that carried that blood?
The pharmacy was bright and sterile, too many people inside for this late at night.
I grabbed three different pregnancy tests, didn't care which brands, paid cash and avoided eye contact.
The cashier didn't look at me twice, bored and scrolling on her phone.
I made it back to my car before the shaking started again.
I couldn't take the test here, not in a pharmacy parking lot.
I needed to get somewhere safe, somewhere private.
I started driving again, this time with purpose
My apartment, small and cheap on the edge of pack territory.
I could go there, take the test, and then figure out what to do.
The bond wound on my chest throbbed with every heartbeat.
My stomach churned with morning sickness that had nothing to do with morning.
I gripped the steering wheel tighter and kept driving.
Behind me, the Obsidian Pack compound disappeared into the night.
Ahead of me, three pregnancy tests sat in a plastic bag.
And inside me, maybe, possibly, impossibly, a piece of the man who'd just destroyed me in front of everyone he knew.
I pressed harder on the gas.
Whatever those tests said, whatever happened next, I knew one thing for certain.
Cassian Vandenberg would never know.
He'd made his choice, and I would make mine.