Chapter 3

The night pressed on, thick with the scent of pine and the distant howl of wolves echoing across the forest. Camille stood there, staring at the spot where Joffrey had disappeared, the echo of his retreating footsteps fading into silence. The rejection still clawed at her insides, but beneath the pain, something else simmered-anger.

How dare he? How dare he stand there and act like he was doing her a favor, like rejecting her was some kind of noble act? She clenched her fists, nails biting into her palms until the sting jolted her out of her thoughts. Anger was better than the pain. Anger, she could use.

"Camille, what are you doing out here?"

The voice startled her. She turned to see Hannah, her best and only friend in the pack, hurrying toward her. Hannah was small and quick, with a cascade of auburn curls and eyes that always seemed to sparkle with warmth. Tonight, though, her eyes were filled with worry.

"Hannah," Camille breathed, relief flooding through her. "I needed some air."

Hannah's face softened, but the worry didn't leave her eyes. "I heard what happened," she said gently, reaching out to squeeze Camille's hand. "I'm so sorry. I can't believe he-"

"Rejected me?" Camille finished for her, her voice raw but steady. "Believe it. He made sure everyone saw it."

Hannah's eyes flashed with a rare anger. "He's a bastard, Camille. You deserve better."

"Maybe," Camille whispered, though she wasn't sure she believed it. She'd spent her whole life believing in the fated bond, the promise that she'd find someone who would see her for who she truly was, who would love her unconditionally. To have that ripped away, and so publicly...

"Come on," Hannah urged, pulling her away from the clearing. "Let's get you out of here. We can go to my place. You shouldn't be alone tonight."

Camille hesitated, glancing back at the packhouse. It was still buzzing with life, laughter spilling out into the night like nothing had happened, like her world hadn't just been turned upside down. She nodded, squeezing Hannah's hand in silent gratitude, and let her friend lead her away.

The two of them walked in silence, the cool night air brushing against Camille's skin like a balm. She focused on the rhythm of her steps, the sound of the wind in the trees, anything but the memory of Joffrey's cold eyes as he rejected her.

They reached Hannah's small cottage on the outskirts of the pack's territory, nestled in a grove of ancient oaks. It was simple, cozy, with the faint glow of candles flickering through the windows. As they stepped inside, the warmth enveloped them, the scent of herbs and fresh bread filling the space.

Hannah shut the door behind them and turned to Camille. "Sit," she commanded, her voice gentle but firm. "I'll make us some tea."

Camille sank onto the worn sofa, her body heavy with exhaustion. She watched as Hannah bustled around the kitchen, her movements quick and efficient. It was comforting, familiar, and for a moment, Camille let herself relax.

Hannah brought over two steaming mugs of chamomile tea and handed one to Camille. "Drink," she insisted. "It'll help calm your nerves."

Camille took a small sip, the warm liquid soothing her raw throat. She closed her eyes, letting the silence stretch between them for a few moments before she spoke. "He didn't even hesitate," she whispered. "He just... rejected me. Like I was nothing."

Hannah set her mug down with a soft thud, her eyes flashing. "You're not nothing, Camille. Joffrey is a fool. He's blinded by his own power, his own arrogance. He doesn't deserve you."

Camille shook her head, her throat tightening. "But he's my mate," she said, her voice breaking. "I've felt the bond since I was a child, dreaming of this moment, of the love we were supposed to share. And now..."

"And now you know the truth," Hannah said softly, but there was steel in her voice. "The bond might be fated, but it doesn't guarantee love. It doesn't guarantee respect. Those are things he's failed to give you, and that's on him, not you."

Camille looked at her friend, surprised by the fierceness in her voice. Hannah had always been the cheerful one, the peacemaker, but tonight, she looked ready to tear Joffrey apart with her bare hands.

"What am I supposed to do?" Camille asked, her voice small, the vulnerability she'd been holding back finally spilling over. "He's the Alpha. He controls everything. I can't just leave, can I?"

Hannah's eyes softened, and she reached out, cupping Camille's cheek. "Listen to me," she said quietly. "You have more power than you realize. You're stronger than you know. You survived years of their cruelty, of their disdain. You can survive this too."

Camille wanted to believe her, wanted to hold on to that tiny flicker of hope, but it was hard when everything she'd known had just crumbled before her eyes. She closed her eyes, leaning into Hannah's comforting touch.

"I just don't know if I can," she whispered.

Hannah pressed a kiss to her forehead, a sisterly gesture that made Camille's heart ache with gratitude. "You can," she said simply. "And you will."

They sat there together in silence for a long time, the only sound the crackling of the fire in the hearth. Camille sipped her tea, feeling the warmth seep into her bones, but the chill of the rejection lingered.

Suddenly, there was a loud knock on the door, startling them both. Camille's heart leapt into her throat. For a second, she thought it might be Joffrey, coming to finish what he started, but then she caught the scent-cologne, and a hint of alcohol.

Derek.

Hannah's eyes narrowed as she got up, marching to the door and yanking it open. "What do you want?" she snapped, her voice sharp.

Derek leaned against the doorframe, a smug grin on his face. He looked down at Hannah, his eyes glazed with drunken amusement. "I came to see our little rejected Luna," he slurred, his gaze flicking to Camille. "Wanted to see how she's handling her first taste of reality."

Hannah stepped in front of him, blocking his view. "She doesn't need you here. Go back to the party, Derek."

He laughed, a cold, mocking sound. "Oh, come on, Hannah. Don't be so protective. I just want to talk."

Camille stood, setting her mug down carefully. She met Derek's eyes, squaring her shoulders. "Leave," she said, her voice steady.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by her boldness. "Look at you," he taunted. "Growing a backbone already? Maybe Joffrey's rejection was the best thing to happen to you."

Hannah moved to slam the door in his face, but Camille stopped her. "No," she said quietly. "Let him speak."

Derek's grin widened. "Oh, you want to hear what I have to say? Alright, little omega. Here's a piece of advice: you should be grateful. Grateful he even looked at you, let alone considered you. You're nothing without him."

Camille's chest tightened, but she forced herself to meet his gaze, unflinching. "You're wrong," she said quietly. "I'm something without him. I'm someone. And one day, I'll prove it."

Derek's smile faltered, just for a second, before he regained his composure. He let out a low, mocking whistle. "Feisty. We'll see how long that lasts."

And with that, he turned and staggered back into the night, leaving the door swinging in the cold wind.

Hannah shut the door with a sharp snap, turning to Camille with wide eyes. "What was that?" she asked, her voice filled with awe.

Camille took a deep breath, the remnants of her anger burning bright in her chest. "That," she said slowly, "was me deciding I'm not going to let them break me."

And for the first time in a long while, she felt a spark of something like hope.