Page 13 of Pregnant, Rejected and Exiled By the Lycan King (Forbidden Alpha Kings #45)

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Rhea

The service roads Ronald took wound through territories I’d never seen, despite living here my whole life.

Smuggling routes, he explained, designed for those who needed to move unseen.

My father apparently maintained networks I never knew existed.

The car smelled of citrus air freshener and old coffee, mundane scents that grounded me while my world imploded.

Ronald kept checking mirrors with paranoid frequency, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.

The pre-dawn darkness wrapped around us like a shroud.

We had maybe two hours now before sunrise, before the execution order went into full effect.

Every minute counted now. Ronald drove without headlights where he could, navigating by memory and moonlight through back roads that didn’t appear on any official pack maps.

In my lap, the leather journal my mother had pressed into my hands felt heavier than it should.

I opened it carefully, angling it to catch the dim dashboard light.

Her precise handwriting filled page after page.

Remedies for everything from wolfsbane poisoning to difficult births.

Healing techniques passed down through generations of omega women who couldn’t rely on alpha or beta doctors.

Survival tricks for those cast out. She’d been preparing this for years, I realized.

Adding to it steadily, knowing this day might come.

Tucked between the pages were photographs I’d never seen.

My parents before I was born, young and hopeful.

Me as a toddler, face covered in birthday cake.

The three of us at last year’s harvest festival, before everything went to hell.

The casual cruelty of it broke what was left whole in my chest. These images were all I’d have of the life stolen from me.

“Your father transferred those contact names before we left,” Ronald said, noticing my silence. “Check the phone they gave you.”

The burner phone showed dozens of contacts.

Codes instead of names, but I recognized my father’s system.

Safe houses marked with bird names. Allies with tree codes.

Emergency resources tagged with numbers.

Twenty years of carefully cultivated omega networks passed to me in a few desperate minutes while guards waited outside.

“How do you know these routes?” I asked, needing distraction from the ache in my chest.

“Your father saved my daughter once, as you already know. Got her out of an alpha’s grudge match that would’ve killed her.” Ronald spoke to fill the silence, sharing debts owed. “Been waiting fifteen years to repay that. Though I’d hoped it would be under better circumstances.”

He navigated a particularly narrow path between abandoned warehouses, the sedan barely fitting. This wasn’t his first time running these routes. How many other omegas had he ferried to safety over the years? How many families had my father helped escape through these shadow networks?

“Jenna was barely sixteen,” Ronald continued. “Wrong place, wrong time. Alpha’s son took interest in her. When she objected...” He shrugged, the gesture saying everything. “Your father intervened eventually. Used his position to get her treatment after the attack. He saved her life. And mine.”

I had known that my father had helped a wounded omega, but I had not known the extent of the story. Now it made sense why he had looked so weary when Damon had presented me as his mate in front of the council.

The bandage at my neck had soaked through twice already, and I pressed a fresh gauze pad against it.

Mate wounds wanted to bleed, my body rejecting the unnatural severing.

Each throb reminded me of what I’d lost. Not just Damon, but the future I’d glimpsed so briefly.

Safety. Belonging. The dangerous illusion of being chosen.

“Don’t look back. Not even once,” my father had said in those final moments. The words echoed now as Ronald turned onto another unmarked road. But how could I not look back? Everything I’d ever known lay behind me. Ahead stretched only uncertainty and exile.

“There’s a rest stop about ten miles out,” Ronald said, checking his mirrors again. “I need to switch plates there. Can’t be too careful.”

The sky was starting to lighten at the edges, purple-black giving way to deep blue. Dawn was approaching like a deadline. Once the sun rose, I’d officially be banished. Any pack member who saw me could execute me on sight. The thought should have terrified me. Instead, I felt oddly numb.

“Take care of each other,” I’d begged my parents, knowing how hollow the words were. The outbacks didn’t allow for care. They barely allowed for survival. But what else could I say in those final seconds?

“We’ll find each other again,” my mother had whispered, the lie sweet between us. We all knew the truth. Families didn’t reunite after banishment. They simply learned to live with the ghosts.

“I love you both,” I’d managed before Ronald’s urgency cut short any more words. Now those three words felt insufficient. A lifetime of love compressed into a single phrase, thrown out like a life preserver to parents who were already drowning.

This is how families died, not all at once, but in pieces. First the physical separation. Then the slow fade of memory. Eventually, even grief became a luxury you couldn’t afford when survival took everything.

Ronald pulled into the rest stop, little more than a cleared area with rusted picnic tables.

He worked quickly, swapping license plates with practiced efficiency.

I watched the woods around us, every shadow potentially hiding threats.

But we were alone except for the earliest birds starting their dawn chorus.

“Almost there,” he assured me, but I caught the worry in his voice. The bus station was still twenty minutes away, and the sky was brightening faster now. We were cutting it close.

Back on the road, Ronald pushed the sedan harder, risking attention for speed.

The narrow routes gave way to actual roads as we neared the town.

Not pack central, but close enough that early morning joggers might be out.

Close enough that someone might recognize me despite the bandages and rough clothes.

“Where will you go?” Ronald asked as the bus station came into view.

“Away. Far as money takes me,” I said, unconsciously pressing a hand to my neck over the mark. I needed to put distance between him and me.

Each mile increased the chance I’ll never see home again. But home was already gone, wasn’t it? Carved away as surely as the mark on my neck. What I was driving toward wasn’t home but simply continued existence.

Ronald pulled into the back of the bus station lot, engine idling. Through grimy windows, I could see a few early travelers inside. The ticket counter was open, harsh fluorescent lights making everything look sickly and surreal.

“This is as far as I can take you,” he said unnecessarily. We both knew he’d already risked too much. “Your father would be proud. You’re surviving.”

But as I gathered my single bag and prepared to face whatever came next, I felt a strange flutter. Stronger than any I had felt before. My hand went to my abdomen as realization crashed over me like ice water.

My heat had never fully completed its cycle. The violence of the rejection, the trauma of the trial, had interrupted the natural process. Which meant...

“Thank you,” I managed to tell Ronald, not trusting my voice with more. He deserved better than my problems. Deserved to get home before anyone noticed his absence.

As Ronald’s car pulled away, leaving me alone in the graying dawn, I stood frozen by a new terror.

An incomplete heat meant unpredictability.

It could resurge at any time, without warning.

And I was about to board a bus full of strangers, heading into unknown territories with no protection, no pack, no way to predict when my body might betray me again.

The sun’s first rays touched the horizon as I forced myself to walk toward the station entrance. Time had run out. Whatever came next, I’d face it alone, carrying secrets that could destroy what was left of my world.