Page 33 of Rejected Alpha Mate

Because despite everything, despite the darkness, the corruption clawing at my veins, the chaos waiting for us tonight, this is still where my heart comes to bleed.

Still, where her absence hurts the most.

Still, where I know, with terrifying clarity, that letting her go was the single greatest mistake of my life.

And when I finally lift my head, breath shuddering out of me, I don’t miss the irony of it when I see the rock beneath me. The rock didn’t just inspire the memory. It inspired the truth.

I can’t let the past swallow me whole, or it’ll destroy everything.

I blink hard, dragging myself back to the present, realizing I must have been here for longer than I thought I was, wallowing in my sorrows. The sun has dipped lower, painting the forest in soft gold that only feels mildly comforting. My body aches, but the darkness in my veins has quieted.

The anger has subsided, too—still present, but not controlling me—and my claws have since retracted.

A shadow moves in front of me, and I close my eyes again and hold my breath, but then her voice follows, real this time, not from memory—but my breath remains stuck in my throat.

“Nick…?”

My eyes snap open, and I find Donna standing a few feet away, framed by the setting sun, her hair glowing like copper fire.

For a second, I swear I’m still dreaming. She’s ethereal, like an angel who came to save me from myself, to deliver me from the anguish and regret that still haunts me as if it were yesterday when I rejected her.

“Donna,” I breathe, my throat dry.

She crouches beside me, her expression softer than I’ve seen these past few days, almost confirming that she’s not actually real, but a figment of my imagination.

“Delilah sent me to find you. You scared them back there.”

I let out a rough laugh, rubbing a hand over my face as I sit upright. “Scared myself too,” I admit nervously, my airways now filled with the sweet scent of lavender she exudes, and I know she’s real.

“Can you stand?”

“I think so.” I push off the rock slowly, wincing when my shoulder protests. She steadies me, her hand small and warm against my arm. That single touch quiets the remnants of the darkness still clinging to my chest.

“You need to come back,” she says gently. “We’re doing the ritual tonight.”

I look at her, trying to read the calm on her face. “How are you okay with any of this?” I ask, my voice rougher than intended as my brows knit. “You just learned that you’re a witch.”

She hesitates, eyes flicking away. “I don’t have a choice. I’m doing this for Dom.”

The words hit harder than I expected.

Of course. Her brother. Not me.

I nod slowly, swallowing down the ache in my throat. “Right,” I murmur. “You’re doing it for him.”

Donna exhales shakily and starts to turn away, but I catch her wrist. The contact burns in the best and worst way. It’s warm, grounding, and painfully human.

“For what it’s worth,” I say quietly. “I wish things were different. I wish you didn’t have to do this.”

Her gaze meets mine, her eyes unreadable. “Yeah,” she whispers after a beat. “Me too.”

I stare at Donna as she gently pulls her hand free and starts walking toward the house, her figure dissolving into the glow of the fading sun, realizing that she’s only acting brave. Deep down, this must be affecting her more than she’s willing to let on, but for her brother, she won’t show weakness.

I know her well enough. It’s why Dom doesn’t even know about last summer.

But for the first time in days, the air feels still. The darkness inside me stirs faintly, but it doesn’t rise.

Because even if she doesn’t love me, even if she’s not doing this for me, her presence keeps me going, keeps the darkness out.