Rejected Mate's Madness

The crisp autumn air bit at my cheeks as I stepped out of the sleek black sedan, my fingers instinctively reaching for the International Healer's Excellence Award pendant hanging around my neck. The golden disc felt heavier than usual against my chest, its weight a reminder of everything I'd worked for—and everything I was about to risk.

Silvermoon Pack's territory stretched before me like something out of a postcard, all towering pines and granite cliffs that caught the late afternoon sun. But it was the crowd gathered in the main courtyard that made my stomach clench. Dozens of pack members stood in neat rows, their faces a mixture of curiosity and barely concealed judgment. At the front, Beta Roman Martinez waited with a smile that didn't quite reach his dark eyes.

"Welcome home, Freya Herrera," Roman's voice boomed across the courtyard, his tone pitched perfectly for the audience. "The Silvermoon Pack is honored to receive not only our future Luna, but the youngest recipient of the International Healer's Excellence Award."

Applause rippled through the crowd, but I caught the whispers underneath—speculation about my bloodline, my qualifications, whether I deserved the position being handed to me. My jaw tightened. If only they knew the truth about my father's influence in arranging all of this.

Roman stepped forward, his hand extended in what looked like a welcoming gesture but felt more like a claim of ownership. "As your mate and Beta of this pack, I'm pleased to announce that Freya will immediately assume the position of head healer, bringing her internationally recognized expertise to serve our pack."

The words hit me like a slap. Head healer? I hadn't even been consulted about taking such a position, let alone agreed to it. But Roman's expectant smile and the watching crowd left me little choice but to nod graciously, even as irritation flared in my chest.

"Thank you for the warm welcome," I managed, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside. "I look forward to serving the pack's healing needs."

The ceremony concluded with more pleasantries and introductions, but my mind was already racing ahead to the private conversation I knew was coming. Roman's presumptuous announcement had set the tone—this wasn't going to be the partnership I'd hoped for.

Two hours later, I found myself in Roman's office, a spacious room dominated by dark wood and pack memorabilia that screamed of masculine authority. He closed the door behind us with a soft click that somehow sounded ominous.

"Now that the formalities are over," Roman said, moving to pour himself a glass of amber liquid from a crystal decanter, "we need to discuss your first official duty as head healer."

I remained standing, my hands clasped behind my back. "I assumed my first duty would be to review the current medical protocols and meet with the existing healing staff."

Roman's laugh was sharp, humorless. "There's been an incident, Freya. A serious one." He turned to face me, his expression grave. "One of our warriors, Marcus Thompson, died three days ago during a healing procedure. Silver poisoning from a rogue attack."

My blood chilled. Silver poisoning was treatable if caught early, but it required precise knowledge and careful monitoring. "What happened?"

"That's exactly what I need you to help me manage." Roman set down his glass and moved closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "The pack is grieving, angry. They need someone to take responsibility, to show that we're handling this tragedy with the gravity it deserves."

Something cold settled in my stomach. "Take responsibility? Roman, I wasn't even here when—"

"As head healer, the buck stops with you now." His tone was reasonable, almost gentle, but there was steel underneath. "A public acknowledgment of the tragedy, an apology for the loss, and a commitment to preventing future incidents. It would show incredible leadership and strengthen our bond in the eyes of the pack."

I stared at him, hardly believing what I was hearing. "You want me to take blame for a patient's death that happened before I even arrived?"

"I want you to show the kind of grace and responsibility that befits a Luna." Roman's voice hardened slightly. "Marcus had a family, Freya. A mate, two young pups. They deserve to see that their pack leadership cares about their loss."

The manipulation was so smooth, so perfectly wrapped in concern for the grieving family, that for a moment I almost questioned my own instincts. Almost. But the award around my neck seemed to pulse with warmth, reminding me of every case I'd fought for, every patient I'd saved through skill and determination rather than political maneuvering.

"Who was the healer responsible for Marcus's treatment?" I asked quietly.

Roman's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "That's not the point—"

"It's exactly the point." I stepped closer, my voice gaining strength. "A pack member is dead, Roman. Someone made a mistake that cost Marcus Thompson his life. If you want me to address this tragedy, I need to know what actually happened."

For a long moment, we stared at each other across the suddenly charged space of his office. Outside, the sun was setting, casting long shadows through the windows that seemed to divide us into light and dark.

Finally, Roman spoke, his voice careful and controlled. "The healer was Jasmine Powell. But Freya, you have to understand—her family connections, her position in the pack—it would be... complicated to hold her accountable."

And there it was. The real reason behind his request, laid bare in all its corrupt simplicity. My hands clenched into fists at my sides as the full scope of what he was asking hit me. Not just to lie, but to sacrifice my professional integrity to protect someone else's political connections.

The pendant at my throat felt like it was burning now, a reminder of everything I'd worked for, everything I'd earned through my own merit. And Roman wanted me to throw it all away for pack politics.

"I need to see Marcus's medical records," I said finally, my voice deadly quiet. "All of them."

Roman's face went very still. "Freya—"

"Now."