Page 12 of The Alpha's Auctioned Pregnant Mate

He had the grace to look uncomfortable. "I've heard that rogue children can be accepted into packs," he said, but he sounded uncertain now.

Wren laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Oh, really? And how many packs do you know that would take in a rogue child? How many would risk their precious reputation to help someone they see as less than dirt?"

He opened his mouth, then closed it again, clearly at a loss for words.

"That's what I thought," she said, disgust churning in her stomach. "You have no idea what the real world is like. You sit in your safe, comfortable pack and judge us without knowing a damn thing about our lives."

His brow furrowed, a mix of confusion and concern crossing his face. "I didn't mean to offend you," he said softly. "I'm just... I've never had a chance to meet them before. Everything I know about rogues comes from stories and warnings."

"And it never occurred to you that those stories might be biased?" she challenged. "That maybe the packs have reasons for keeping rogues demonized?"

There was a flash of understanding in his eyes, and he gasped. "Fuck… You're a rogue… I didn't know. I mean, I would never have thought. I didn't mean…"

Wren turned to walk away, too livid to listen to whatever ignorant shit he wanted to say. She had a feeling nothing he said would make her feel any better.

His firm hand grabbed her wrist, and he leaned forward, his eyes intense. "Then tell me," he said. "Help me understand. What's it really like, being a rogue?"

For a moment, she was tempted. The earnestness in his voice, the genuine curiosity in his eyes—it was almost enough to make her believe he really wanted to know.

But then she remembered all the others who'd asked similar questions, their interest nothing more than a fleeting curiosity, a desire for a thrilling story about life on the wild side.

"It's not my job to educate you," she said coldly. "If you really want to know, open your eyes and look around. We're not monsters or criminals. We're just people trying to survive in a world that's decided we don't deserve to exist."

He flinched at her words, and she saw a flash of something in his eyes—regret? Shame? But it was gone too quickly for her to be sure.

"I'm sorry," he said, and he sounded sincere. "I didn't realize... I mean, I never thought about it that way."

"Of course you didn't," she replied, her voice bitter. "Why would you? You've probably never had to think about anything beyond your comfortable pack life."

He shook his head. "That's not fair. You don't know anything about me or my life."

"And you don't know anything about mine," she retorted. "But at least I'm not the one making assumptions based on prejudice and fear."

He winced but didn't back down. "You're right," he admitted. "I made assumptions, and that was wrong. But I'm trying to understand now. Isn't that worth something?"

Wren studied him for a long moment, torn between her instinctive distrust and the tiny part of her that wanted to believe he was sincere. But in the end, it didn't matter. One conversationwasn't going to undo a lifetime of prejudice, and she wasn't naive enough to think she could change his mind.

"Understanding takes more than just asking a few questions," she said finally. "It takes time, effort, and a willingness to challenge everything you think you know. Are you really prepared to do that?"

He hesitated, and that was all the answer she needed.

"I didn't think so," she said, her voice flat. "Enjoy your drink. There are plenty of other bars in town if you find the company here too... dangerous."

She was trembling now, anger and old pain threatening to overwhelm her. Without waiting for his response, she turned on her heel and stalked away, leaving him staring after her.

She headed straight for the back door, needing air, needing to escape before she did something stupid like cry in front of a bar full of people. Mara called her as she walked past but she rushed for the exit even faster.

As she pushed through the door into the cool night air, she could still feel his eyes on her back. But she didn't look back. She couldn't. Because if she did, she might see regret in those blue eyes, and that would be even worse than ignorance.

So she kept walking, letting the door swing shut behind her, cutting off the noise and the light and the memory of a man who, for just a moment, made her forget who she was and where she came from.

Chapter 5 - Articus

He watched her walk away, her words echoing in his head. The disgust in her voice, the hurt in her eyes—it was all seared into his memory. He'd fucked up royally. And he had no idea how to fix it.

The door swung shut behind her, attracting more than a few eyes. He was left sitting there, feeling like the world's biggest idiot. How could he have been so blind? So ignorant?

He took a long swig of his drink, wincing at the burn. She wasn't lying about the kick. It was almost as potent as the guilt churning in his gut.

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