Page 42 of My Fated Mate

How could they?

They haven't had their hearts ripped out and stomped on by the one person they were supposed to trust, the one person destined to love them.

A sharp, searing pain explodes across my back, right between my shoulder blades.

It comes out of nowhere, a white-hot poker jabbed into my flesh. I gasp, the sound a strangled whimper lost in the storm raging inside me.

But the agony fades as quickly as it came, leaving behind a dull ache that throbs in rhythm with my broken heart.

Hatred, a foreign emotion, a bitter seed, takes root in the fertile soil of my heartbreak. He played me.

All this time, his distance, his aloofness – it was all a performance, a cruel charade to lull me into a false sense of security, only to shatter it with his callous rejection.

The anger burns through the fog of despair, a flickering flame against the encroaching darkness. I will not let him break me. I will not crumble under the weight of his rejection.

Elowen, the naive girl who dreamt of fated mates and happily ever after, is dead. In her place stands a woman scorned, a woman forged in the fires of betrayal. And Thorne… Thorne will rue the day he underestimated me.

But even as I vow vengeance, a single, chilling thought slithers into my mind.

What if the pain in my back… what if it has something to do with his rejection?

The thought is dismissed as quickly as it arrives, lost in the maelstrom of emotions threatening to consume me.

There's no time for such things now. There's only the cold, burning need to make him pay.

Anya's voice, laced with panic, cuts through the haze of despair. "Elowen! Wait!"

But my legs are already pumping, carrying me away from the suffocating room, away from the pitying stares, away from the searing agony of his rejection.

I don't know where I'm going. I don't care.

The forest explodes into a blur of green and brown, the familiar path morphing into a labyrinth of twisting trees and tangled undergrowth.

My lungs scream for oxygen, my legs protest with every pounding step, but I push them harder, faster. The only solace I find is in the punishing burn in my muscles, a physical manifestation of the emotional turmoil tearing me apart.

The ache in my back throbs with a dull insistence, a nagging counterpoint to the symphony of heartbreak playing in my head. But even that, even the physical pain, feels insignificant compared to the gaping wound Thorne has ripped open in my soul.

With a guttural cry, I hurl myself over a fallen log, the impact sending a jolt of pain through my already battered body. But I barely register it, my focus solely on putting distance between myself and the pack house and the searing memory of Thorne's cold rejection.

The forest deepens, the sunlight struggling to penetrate the dense canopy of leaves above. Thorns snag at my clothes, drawing blood, but I barely flinch. The physical wounds pale compared to the gaping chasm of betrayal that yawns within me.

Hours melt into a timeless blur of exhaustion and despair. My breath comes in ragged gasps, my legs trembling with fatigue. But still, I press on, driven by a primal need to escape the crushing weight of his rejection.

When I finally stumble to a halt, collapsing beneath the gnarled roots of an ancient oak, the world tilts on its axis. Tears stream down my face, and sweat drips from my brow. I'm lost, utterly and completely lost, both physically and emotionally.

A choked sob escapes my lips as I curl into a fetal position, the cold earth a poor substitute for the warmth I so desperately crave. The pain in my back throbs with a renewed intensity.

Maybe the legends were true. Maybe the mate bond did cause a physical connection. And maybe the dull ache was my body’s way of mirroring the shattered bond I once thought I shared with Thorne.

The thought offers little comfort. In fact, it only deepens the despair threatening to consume me. Lost, heartbroken, and physically in pain—this is where Thorne’s rejection has led me.

Gathering the last dregs of my strength, I push myself upright, the world swaying around me.

My vision blurs, and for a moment, I fear I might succumb to the exhaustion gnawing at my limbs. But the cold, unforgiving earth beneath me is a stark reminder of my situation.

I am alone, lost, and utterly vulnerable.

Taking a shaky breath, I try to recall the layout of the pack territory, searching for any landmark that might guide me back.

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