REJECTED YET CHOSEN

Chapter 50

_Dorian’s POV_

The door to Aaron’s study clicked shut behind me, sealing away the tension that had been suffocating me inside. But even as I stepped into the corridor, my chest remained tight.

Lyla didn’t recognize me.

The words echoed in my mind, each repetition sharpening the cold edge of my frustration. My wolf, Shadow, prowled within me. He was restless and he growled.

She’s our mate. This isn’t right.

I knew it wasn’t right.

Marcus was waiting for me just a few steps down the corridor, his arms crossed, his sharp gaze fixed on my face. He pushed off the wall the moment he saw me. “That took longer than expected,” he muttered. “How did it go?”

I shook my head and exhaled sharply. “Not here. We’ll talk in the room.”

Jason, Aaron’s Beta, was already standing nearby, watching us with his usual unreadable expression. Without a word, he turned and gestured for us to follow.

The corridors of the Blood Moon Packhouse were as imposing as I remembered—high ceilings, dark wooden beams, and walls lined with framed portraits of past Alphas. The sconces along the walls cast flickering shadows, giving the space a heavy, almost suffocating air. The place was built for strength, for intimidation, and it served its purpose well.

Jason walked ahead. His posture was stiff. His silence didn’t bother me. I wasn’t in the mood for small talk. Marcus, on the other hand, had no such patience.

“This place feels more like a fortress than a home,” he told me though the mind link. “They are always this paranoid, or is it just because of us?”

I smirked slightly, but there was no real amusement behind it. “Maybe a bit of both.” I replied through the mind link.

Jason didn’t react. He simply led us through a series of turns until we stopped in front of a heavy wooden door. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a key, and slid it into the lock. The door creaked open, revealing the guest room they had prepared for me.

Jason handed me the key. “This is your room. I trust it will be sufficient.”

I stepped inside, my gaze sweeping over the space.

The room was spacious but cold. The large bed was covered in dark gray sheets, neatly made but uninviting. A fireplace sat against the far wall. Across from it was a small sitting area, a round wooden table with two chairs. The walls were bare except for a single, thick curtain covering the only window. Even the air inside felt still, like the room had been empty for too long.

Jason remained in the doorway. “If you need anything, you can call for me or one of the maids.”

I nodded while placing the key in my pocket. “It’s fine.”

Jason turned to Marcus. “I’ll have a separate room prepared for you.”

I shook my head before Marcus could respond. “That won’t be necessary. He is staying with me.”

Jason’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t argue. He simply gave a curt nod. “Very well.” Then, without another word, he stepped back and pulled the door shut behind him.

For a moment, there was only silence.

Then I let out a slow, measured breath and sat down on the edge of the bed.

Marcus remained standing, watching me closely. “Alright,” he said. “Tell me what happened.”

I ran a hand through my hair, frustration curling in my chest like a vice. “She doesn’t remember me, Marcus. Lyla looked me in the eye and said we had never met before.”

Marcus’s brows drew together. “What?”

“She wasn’t faking it,” I said, my voice tight. “No hesitation, no flicker of recognition. Nothing. She spoke about Aaron like she has been by his side for years. Like she actually belongs here.”

Marcus cursed under his breath and sank into one of the chairs. “That doesn’t make any damn sense. You’re her ex-mate. She should at least react to you.”

I clenched my fists. “Exactly.”

Marcus exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Something’s not right. When she walked out of the study with Aaron, I saw her. She didn’t just look different—she felt different.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “She moved like someone who had no doubts about where she belonged. No hesitation, no second-guessing. It wasn’t just that she was acting like his Luna—it was like she truly believed she was.”

A sick feeling coiled in my stomach. “That’s not possible.”

Marcus hesitated, then said, “Unless… someone made her forget.”

My wolf bristled at the suggestion. My pulse pounded as I considered it. Mind control? No. That wasn’t something an ordinary wolf could pull off. It would take powerful magic to erase memories—magic strong enough to rewrite who she was.

A sudden thought struck me. “The seer.”

Marcus nodded quickly. “Yes. We need to talk to her. If something unnatural is at play here, she’ll know.”

I pulled out my phone and dialed her number. It rang once. Twice. Then—

Nothing.

My grip tightened around the phone as I stared at the screen. Call failed.

I tried again.

Voicemail.

“She’s not answering,” I muttered. A pit of unease settled in my chest.

Marcus frowned. “Is that normal?”

“No,” I said grimly. “She always answers. Or at least calls back.”

Silence stretched between us, heavy with unspoken concern.

Marcus was the first to break it. “Alright. Don’t panic yet. Maybe she’s just busy.”

I wasn’t convinced. The timing was too convenient. First, Lyla didn’t recognize me. Now the one person who might have answers was unreachable.

Marcus must have sensed my frustration because he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “Look, we’ll figure something out. We always do.”

I nodded, though my mind was already racing with possibilities. If someone had tampered with Lyla’s memories, who had the power to do it? And why?

Then—

Tap.

I froze.

Marcus stiffened. “Did you hear that?”

Tap. Tap.

The sound came from the window.

Slowly, I turned my head.

A shadow moved against the glass.

Another tap.

I stood, my heart pounding as I stepped toward the window. The curtains were drawn, blocking my view, but I could see the faintest movement beyond them.

Marcus rose to his feet beside me. “Be careful,” he muttered.

I reached for the curtain and yanked it open.

A raven sat on the windowsill, its black eyes gleaming in the dim light. It tilted its head, then tapped its beak against the glass again.

Tap.

The sound sent a chill down my spine.

Something wasn’t right.

I had seen many ravens in my time, but this one… this one felt different. Its presence wasn’t natural.

I didn’t know how.

I just knew.

And then—

The raven opened its beak.

But instead of a caw—

It spoke.