Chapter Two – The Rejection Meant Nothing

Kade’s POV

The scent of her still lingered in the halls. Pine smoke and crushed herbs. No matter how many times I bathed, no matter how many incense sticks the priestesses burned in the temple baths, it clung to me. It seeped into my skin, into my lungs. I scrubbed myself raw, but I could not erase her.

The bond pulsed in my chest like a bruise that would never heal.

I stood on the high balcony of Silver Keep, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the treeline where her cottage lay beyond the mist. The courtyard below bustled as if nothing had happened. Warriors sparred in the training yard, their blades clashing like ringing bells. Servants lit torches in neat lines, priestesses sang praises to the Moon. The world went on, but inside me everything was fractured.

All I could see was her face. The way she looked at me when I said it.

“I reject you.”

Her eyes had cracked like glass struck by a hammer, but she had not begged. Not once.

The crowd did not expect it, and neither did I. They had leaned forward, waiting for her to throw herself to the ground, to grovel and plead as every scorned mate before her had done. But she hadn’t.

She had just bowed her head and said softly, “Yes, my lord.”

And I, Alpha of Silvermoon, heir of a bloodline unbroken was left standing like a fool in front of them all.

I had spat venom then, words to mask my shame. You are a stain. A mistake. I needed them to believe I felt nothing, but gods help me, I felt everything.

The golden thread of the bond pulled taut inside me, tightening around my ribs until every breath hurt. My wolf howled, snarling at me, tearing against my control. He wanted her. He knew her. Mine, he whispered.

But I buried him. Locked him down in the dark corners of my chest. Because weakness kills.

I knew that truth better than anyone.

My father had been weak. Too merciful, too trusting. He had believed loyalty was enough to hold a pack together. He had believed his warriors would bleed for him because they loved him. But love is fragile and fear is iron. My father had been murdered by the very wolves he trusted most.

And because of that, I had become the youngest Alpha in Silvermoon’s history. Because weakness destroyed him, I had sworn it would never destroy me.

“Kade.”

The voice slid into my bones like cold water. I didn’t turn.

“Mother.”

Lady Morwen always arrived without sound, but her presence carried weight. Heavy. Suffocating. She stepped beside me, her gown of midnight silk whispering across the stones, her silver hair gleaming in the torchlight like a crown. Her eyes were sharp, the same silver as mine, though hers were colder.

“Your display last night was reckless,” she said smoothly, her lips curving in faint disdain. “But necessary. I must applaud your courage.”

My jaw tightened. “She was my mate.”

“Then the Moon has gone mad.”

Her words struck harder than I expected, though I didn’t let it show.

“She should have been killed the moment she set foot in the circle,” Morwen continued, each word precise, a knife in silk. “That filthy girl. She reeks of shadow. I smell it clinging to her skin.”

“She bewitched no one,” I snapped before I could stop myself. The words were out, a raw defense I hadn’t intended to voice.

Her smile was faint, cruel. “Then why can’t you forget her?”

I said nothing. Because she was right.

“You think you can bury this bond,” she whispered, tilting her head. “But the people saw your hesitation. They saw the way your eyes followed her. And they will whisper.” Her hand, pale and cold, brushed my arm. “You must cut this thread before it strangles you.”

My voice was low. “And if I don’t?”

“Then you will fall, just as your father fell. And Silvermoon will rot.”

She said it like a promise.

For a moment, we stood in silence, the courtyard below echoing with distant laughter. My wolf clawed at me, furious, begging me to push her away. But another part of me—the part that still remembered the girl who pressed herbs to children’s cuts, who sang under her breath when she thought no one listened—hesitated.

Morwen’s eyes glittered. “Let me take care of it.”

I turned to her slowly. “What are you planning?”

Her lips curved into a smile that chilled my blood. “Trust me, son. By the time the sun sets tomorrow, she will be gone. And no one will question you again.”

Before I could answer, a knock rattled the doors. One of the outer patrol guards stumbled in, pale and breathless.

“Alpha—one of the noble pups went missing since dawn.”

The words dropped like stones in my gut.

Another guard rushed in behind him. “Evidence was found. In a cottage near the border. The omega girl’s.”

My head snapped toward him. “What kind of evidence?”

“Blood, my lord. A child’s cloak and witch signs carved into her walls.”

The words twisted like a blade. Too neat. Too convenient.

And that was the moment I understood.

Morwen stood still beside me, calm as a carved statue. She did not flinch at the accusations, did not blink at the mention of witch signs. She only smiled, faint and satisfied.

Rage flared in my chest. Not at Elara. At her, my mother.

I dismissed the guards and turned on her the moment the doors closed. “You planted it.”

Her brows lifted, unbothered. “You needed a reason.”

“You dare you!” My hands curled into fists. “She is innocent.”

“Innocence is irrelevant,” she said softly. “Power is all that matters. And mercy is a disease.”

“She is my mate!” The words ripped from me before I could stop them, raw and violent.

“And that is exactly why she must burn,” Morwen whispered, stepping close, her cold hand gripping my jaw. “You are chained to her. She will undo you. Better to sever the bond before it festers.”

I stared at her, chest heaving, wolf thrashing inside me. “You’ll destroy me in the process.”

Her smile curved. “No. I will save you. I vow it.”

The guards returned moments later, dragging Elara between them. Her wrists bore silver cuffs, her skin blistered and raw, but she didn’t resist. She didn’t cry. Didn’t even lower her head.

She lifted her chin, her voice hoarse but steady. “I’m innocent. You know I would never harm a child.”

“You expect us to believe this?” Morwen snapped, eyes burning with hatred. “Your herbs, your runes, your scent in the woods?”

“I never touched him,” Elara whispered. “I know this was planted.”

Her gaze found mine. Not pleading. Not begging. Just searching.

And for a heartbeat, my wolf stirred, pressing against the bars of my chest. Mine. I shoved him down. I couldn’t afford weakness.

“You disgraced me at the festival,” I said, forcing the words out hard, sharp. “You trespassed where you did not belong. You do not belong here, Elara. You never did.”

She flinched, but her eyes never wavered. That steadiness unnerved me more than tears would have.

Morwen’s smirk cut across my vision. The council would side with her. The people already whispered. If I faltered now, I would lose everything.

I turned away, my voice flat, final. “Her trial is at sunset. Let the pack witness what happens to witches who betray us.”

Her silence followed me, echoing louder than any scream. She didn't beg, she didn't plead. Just silence. And somehow, that cut deeper than anything else.