Page 41 of The Alpha's Bullied Rejected Mate

Neither of them moved.

The tension hung thick between them, electric and fragile. Marcus’s gaze ran down from her eyes and dipped briefly to her lips before snapping back up. She opened her mouth to say something—anything—but the moment broke—

A sudden jolt of magic surged through her skull like lightning behind her eyes, dragging her into a trance.

Her head jerked backward.

Suddenly, she saw a small boy who was dashing across an open field; his cries were sharp and breathless.

Riley.

He was barefoot. His face was streaked with tears and dirt. Panic thudded through every step. He dove into a clump of underbrush, crumpling to the ground. Hunched over, arms locked around his knees, he rocked and wailed into the dark fold of his legs.

She recognized this scene. It was the same vision she had before.

She leaned in, trying to reach his attention.

But she couldn’t. The boy curled tighter, covering his ears.

Then he cried out. A single word.

“Father!”

And she saw him—Marcus. Standing still, watching, unmoved by the child’s desperation.

Her soul twisted.

She turned toward Marcus, screaming his name, begging him to move—but he didn’t.

The scene snapped.

Athena gasped and stumbled out of the vision. Her body seized as if physically struck.

She yanked her hands away from Marcus as if it burned her, her whole frame trembling.

A breath tore from her lungs like a sob. She sat bolt upright, clutching her temples.

Marcus lunged forward, trying to steady her, alarmed. “Aza? What is it?”

“Don’t—” she said hoarsely, shoving his hands away. “Don’t touch me!”

“What is going on?”

“Don’t!” she rasped again, shoving him aside. Her voice cracked. “Don’t. Touch. Me.”

“What the hell was that?” he asked again, confused.

“Nothing,” she hissed, sitting up with her arms crossed tightly across her chest like armor. “Just… stay on your side next time.”

He sat up, too, his eyes flashing. “Right. Because I clearly made the mistake of caring if you froze to death.”

Her jaw clenched. “I didn’t ask for your help.”

“No,” he said coldly, standing. “You never did.”

But she couldn’t respond to him. The more she stared at him, the louder the echo of that small, broken voice still rang in her ears:

Father.