Rejected by The Beta

The stars above Duskthorn Pack hung dim and sparse, like the sky had forgotten how to shine. A low mist clung to the ground, curling around the streetlamps and softening the edges of the world. The air was heavy with damp moss and lingering wood smoke — the kind that crawled into your lungs and made you feel like you'd swallowed a memory.

Mera walked beside me, her voice drifting like perfume — all silk and vanity, light on substance. Something about lilies. Or was it hydrangeas?

"Blush tones really bring out my eyes, don't you think?" she asked, turning her head just enough for me to notice the way her earrings caught the light.

I made a vague sound of agreement. The kind that didn't mean yes, but wouldn't start a fight.

Because my mind wasn't on flowers. Or colors. Or even this sidewalk beneath our feet.

It was still caught in the flicker of the television screen in the Alpha's Hall. The soft static glow. The breathless silence that had fallen across the room the second her voice filled the air.

Dwyn.

Not the girl I used to know — not exactly. She was different now. Not changed, but more… whole. Like the silence had carved out all the broken places and her voice had grown to fill them.

It wasn't just singing.

It was raw. Reckless. Unapologetically real.

And the worst part?

She looked happy.

Not the painted smile she used to wear at pack events. Not the quiet, patient kind of happy that waited for the world to catch up. But a happiness that pulsed from the inside out.

And somehow, it shattered me.

Mera slipped her arm through mine, anchoring me back to the present. Her perfume — sugary jasmine with a chemical bite — stung my nose.

"You've been quiet all night," she said, pouting. "The engagement reveal is in four days, Kael. You can't be broody when everyone's watching."

"I'm just tired," I muttered.

"Hmm." Her fingers tightened around my wrist. "You weren't this tired when we were planning things yesterday."

No. Yesterday I hadn't seen Dwyn's name trend alongside a repost from Hozier himself.

Yesterday I could pretend I hadn't ruined the only real thing I ever had.

Now? I couldn't stop hearing her voice in my head.

Do you know, I could break beneath the weight…

Gods. She sounded like the ocean—wide, impossible, and aching to be known.

The Night Before Mate Giving Day.....

My father's study smelled like leather, ash, and pressure. The fire in the hearth burned low but sharp, throwing long shadows across the stone floor. His whiskey sat untouched, but the scent clung to him anyway.

He didn't bother greeting me. "Sit."

I did.

"You know what tomorrow is."

I nodded. "Mate Giving."

His jaw flexed. "Then you know what you have to do."

My stomach twisted. "I think— I think Dwyn might be—"

"I don't give a damn what the moon says," he snapped, slamming his glass down. Liquid sloshed over the rim.

I stared at him. "She's your Alpha's daughter."

"She's a girl," he spat. "An unmated girl who's been named heir to the Alpha seat. Do you understand what that means, Kael?"

I didn't speak.

He stood and came around the desk, pointing a finger in my face. "If you stay tied to her, you'll live in her shadow. You'll be her Luna. You'll kneel beside her throne like some pretty little pet. Is that the future you want?"

My chest burned. "She's not just some girl. She's strong. She's... she's everything."

"She's a goddamned brat," he hissed. "A half-blood, born of whatever filth her mother was and a stupid Alpha. You think this pack will follow you if you're standing behind that?"

I rose. "I love her."

"Then be man enough to let her go," he snarled. "Break her before she breaks you."

Silence crashed between us.

That was the night I made the worst decision of my life.

Now, Mera's voice jolted me back. "Kael?"

We were at the Beta House. The porch light glared above us, making her curls shine gold and copper. Her smile was flawless. Her lipstick hadn't smudged. She looked like the kind of future people applauded.

But all I could think about was the past.

About the way Dwyn's eyes used to crinkle when she smiled. About how she'd rest her head on my chest and whisper that she felt safe there.

And how I ripped that away.

"Yeah?" I forced out.

She kissed my cheek. "Come inside. I'm freezing."

I nodded.

But when she turned to the door, I didn't follow.

I looked back. Down the empty street. Past the trees. Toward the train station. Toward the sea.

Toward everything I threw away.

And it hit me, so hard I almost couldn't breathe:

What if I'd been brave?

What if I'd chosen her?

What if I'd walked into that hall, taken her hand, and said, Yes. I will be yours.

Not because I wanted power.

But because I loved her.

The night wind stirred, and for just a moment, I thought I could hear her voice again.

Not in my head.

But in my bones.

In the hollows she left behind.

And I knew — no matter how many ceremonies I stood through, no matter how many smiles I faked for the pack — I would always wonder:

What if she had been mine?

And worse—

What if I never deserved her to begin with?

------------------------------------------------------

We were barefoot, breathless, and absolutely losing our minds.

The beach behind Margot's house stretched out like a secret — hidden between cliffs and sea grass, where the tide whispered and the gulls wheeled above us like they knew something we didn't. The water was cold, the sand packed wet beneath our feet, and Rhea was already shrieking loud enough to scare the gods.

"Nine hundred and sixty-seven thousand!" she yelled, spinning with her arms flung wide, salt spray catching in her copper curls. "Do you know what this means, Dwyn?! You. Me. Viral! I mean — what?!"

I laughed so hard I nearly fell over. "I thought you said the internet was going to ignore us for a cereal challenge!"

"Yeah, well—" she gasped, clutching her phone like it might levitate "—clearly, the universe heard me and decided I was full of crap."

We were standing ankle-deep in the water now, soaked jeans clinging to our legs, our faces red with cold and joy and the ridiculous giddy thrill of it all.

The duet.

Just one session.

One song.

And suddenly… we were everywhere.

The video Rhea had uploaded with no tags, no promo, no filter — just a caption that read:

"Raw session. Unknown/Nth — ft. Dwyn (someone who broke me open in two takes.)"

—was now closing in on a million views.

A million.

I'd never seen that many people in my life, and now they were all listening to me.

And then the repost had come.

I'd nearly dropped my phone.

Now, with Rhea squealing beside me and the ocean crashing in time with our laughter, I suddenly needed more.

I needed to share this moment.

I pulled my phone from the front pocket of my hoodie, fingers slippery with saltwater and adrenaline, and hit the contact labeled Home.

It rang twice.

"Hello?" came a voice — bright, high-pitched, already familiar.

"Liora," I gasped, grinning. "Is Mom there? Put me on speaker, hurry!"

A squeal. "DWYYYYN! SHE'S CALLING!"

A shuffle, a clatter, and then a chorus of voices.

"Dwyn?" Cecil's voice, warm and a little breathless, filtered through the speaker. "Sweetheart? Are you okay we saw you on the news?"

I couldn't stop smiling. "I'm so okay, I might explode."

Vioras voice next. "Why do you sound like you're running a race?"

"I'm on the beach," I laughed. "With Rhea. You need to check your phone. Right now. Go on Instagram. Or YouTube. Just—go!"

A pause. Then the sounds of frantic typing.

A moment later, I heard a collective gasp.

"Oh my stars," Cecil breathed.

"She's FAMOUS!" Fiora screamed in the background.

Cecil's voice wobbled with emotion. "Dwyn… this is you. This is your voice."

"I know," I whispered, suddenly choked up. "It's me. Really me."

The phone rustled again.

"Dwyn."

My father's voice.

Deep. Steady. Duskthorn.

I stood a little straighter. Even barefoot and soaked, something about him saying my name made me want to plant my feet like roots in the earth.

"Papaaa."

"I'm proud of you," he said.

My breath hitched.

"I hope you know that."

"I do," I whispered. "I just— I didn't know anyone would see me like this. Not outside the pack."

"You've always been meant for more than the pack," he said. "The world's just catching up."

Something tightened in my chest. Not fear. Not pain.

Just that wild, terrifying hope.

"I miss you," I said.

"We miss you, too," Cecil added gently. "But don't come back yet. Shine. We're watching. Always baby."

"I love you," I told them, blinking fast.

A chorus of "We love you more!" rose up in answer — the triplets yelling into the speaker until the call ended with a round of kisses and giggles.

I tucked the phone against my chest like it was the only anchor I needed.

Rhea nudged my shoulder. "You good?"

I nodded, teary and grinning. "Yeah. That was my family."

"They sound… chaotic."

"They are," I laughed. "But they're mine."

We turned back toward the waves, letting the water tug at our toes again.

Rhea held up her phone. "We're at 982k now."

My jaw dropped.

"And—oh my God," she hissed, "a label just DM'd me."

"What?"

She looked at me, eyes wide. "They want to talk. About a project. Both of us."

I stared at her.

She stared at me.

Then we screamed again — loud enough to scatter a flock of gulls and echo down the rocks like a promise.

This was our beginning.