Page 48 of Rejected and Pregnant by the Lycan King

Maximus

Every territory marked on the map was now marred with thick strokes of black ink, serving as a monument to every failure. Nobody knew where she was. She wasn’t anywhere within the kingdom. Despite everything, my mate had slipped through my fingers. Vanished beyond my reach. Gone.

A violent crack rang through the air like a battle cry as a chair shattered against the wall. First the chairs, then the tables. Each piece of furniture shattered under the force of my rage, leaving ornate woodwork reduced to broken remnants littering the floor. Despite the wanton destruction, I couldn’t sate the anger inside me.

The severed bond was a relentless fire that burned within me. It should have faded. It should have dulled with time and distance. The cruel promise of a broken connection was that the pain would shrink into something bearable. Eventually.

But it hadn’t.

Months had passed since Kylie ran, and still, memories of her haunted me. Every thought, every memory, every whisper of her scent reignited the bond anew, tearing through me with fresh waves of agony. It was never truly gone. Never truly over.

No amount of destruction could drown out the ache of losing her.

It wasn’t like the other kingdoms would care if I asked them to search for her. They’d tell me to fuck off without a second thought, and I’d return the favor without hesitation. Kings never cared about anyone beyond their own borders. That was how things had been for centuries.

And I had no reason to believe that would ever change.

Not for me. Not for anyone.

I paced the length of my office, weaving through the wreckage I had caused, my gaze fixed on the map.

If not for the king’s command to search every house, I would have ordered them to go back—to scour the kingdom again, to leave nothing unchecked. But the search had been thorough. Everyone sworn to me had felt the command ripple through the pack bonds. This was a force they couldn’t resist. No one could lie to me, and no one could twist the truth to hide her.

However, she remained lost to me.

The heavy and unrelenting weight of it pressed down on my chest. Kylie was gone, and I had to face the possibility that I had lost her.

Bullshit. I can’t accept that.

She had to be somewhere. There had to be some overlooked corner or forgotten path. She couldn’t have vanished without a trace.

Escaping into another kingdom was nearly impossible. My borders were patrolled relentlessly, ensuring no one entered or left without my knowledge. No lycan could slip through unnoticed. If Kylie had somehow breached those barriers, I would know.

Someone would have seen her and reported it.

They had to. Right?

Unease curled in my chest, gnawing at the certainty I had once clung to. If no one had seen her, if no trace of her had surfaced…

Had I underestimated her? Had she outmaneuvered me?

Or was she somewhere I hadn’t even considered?

Eli’s presence settled into the room before his scent reached me—a sharp note of citrus, crisp and grounding. He bore the weight of the pack now, filling the space I had abandoned, holding things together while I unraveled.

He was the only one who dared to check on me anymore. The only one who wasn’t afraid to step into my orbit.

Amara wasn’t allowed near me for her own safety. Eli had made sure of that. I became more volatile the longer I was without my mate. Burning frustration boiled beneath my skin, threatening to spill over. I was unpredictable in my grief and rage, and he feared what I could do.

I would never hurt his mate, but he didn’t know that.

Nor did he care. It was his job to protect her, and he believed the safest thing for her was to keep her away from me. I couldn’t blame him.

“I like what you’ve done with the place.” His tone was deadpan, but I could sense his concern.

I turned to face him, and whatever smirk he had been wearing vanished instantly.

Days had slipped by in a blur since I’d last stepped outside this room. Time felt irrelevant—an empty thing measured only by the aching absence of Kylie. The only thread keeping me from unraveling completely was the hope, however thin, that I might still find her.

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