TOO LATE PRINCE! I'M NO LONGER YOUR CHUBBY LUNA

LYDIA POV

"I, Patrick Silversson, reject you, Lydia Blackthorn, as my mate and Luna."

The words hit me like a physical blow.

I stared at him, frozen, as the mate bond-the bond that had just slammed into my chest only moments ago, ripped apart. Pain exploded behind my ribs so violently I gasped. My knees buckled. Tears burned my eyes before I could stop them.

"Why?" The word tore out of me, raw and broken. "You don't even know me. You looked at me for three seconds and decided I was nothing. Why would you do that?"

Patrick's eyes stayed cold. He didn't flinch at the tears spilling down my face. He didn't look sorry. He looked bored, almost irritated that I had spoken at all.

"Because the Moon Goddess made a mistake, and I will correct that mistake," he said, loud enough for the entire hall to hear. "I reject you, fatass. Stay away from me."

Laughter erupted around us like a living thing.

It started near the front and spread outward in waves-cruel, delighted, unrestrained. Ranked warriors threw their heads back. She-wolves covered their mouths but their eyes shone with vicious pleasure. Someone actually clapped. Another voice called out, "Finally, someone said it!" A third shouted, "The Moon Goddess must have been drunk!" The sound bounced off the high ceiling and slammed back into me from every direction.

My sister Seraphina's giggle cut through it all, clear and bright and unmistakable. She stood only a few feet behind Patrick, one hand resting lightly on a warrior's arm, looking like she had just been given the best gift of her life.

I couldn't breathe. The broken bond felt like someone had reached into my chest with silver claws and torn out everything warm. Tears kept falling. I hated them. I hated that he was watching them fall. I hated that hundreds of eyes were watching them fall.

"Please" My voice cracked. "You didn't even give me a chance. You don't know anything about me."

Patrick turned his back on me like I was a plague he's avoiding. He accepted a drink from someone without missing a beat. The celebration resumed around him as if the last minute had been nothing more than mild entertainment.

That was when my parents reached me.

My mother's hand cracked across my face so hard my head snapped to the side. The sting was sharp and public. Gasps of fresh laughter rose from those closest to us. My father grabbed my arm hard enough to bruise and shook me once, hard.

"Stop embarrassing us," he hissed, loud enough for the wolves nearby to hear every word. "No man in his right mind would ever take you as a mate. Look at you. Standing here crying like a child because the Alpha Prince refused to saddle himself with... this." His eyes dragged over my body with open disgust, making sure everyone saw what he saw. "You should be thanking him for being honest. He could have humored you. Instead he saved the entire pack from the joke of watching you stand beside him."

My mother slapped me again, lighter this time but just as humiliating. The sound still echoed. "Wipe your face. You're making it worse. The Prince has standards. You never did. We told you for years to stay quiet and stay out of sight. Now look what you've done."

More laughter. It felt endless. I could feel every eye in the hall on me-the plus-size Beta's daughter, rejected by the Alpha Prince and now being corrected by her own parents in front of the entire kingdom. A group of younger ranked wolves near the dessert table openly pointed. One of the elder she-wolves shook her head with a pitying smile that somehow felt worse than the open mockery. Someone muttered, "Even her own blood knows she's a lost cause."

Tears kept streaming down my cheeks no matter how hard I tried to stop them. My wolf was screaming inside me, wounded and confused and terrified. The bond was gone. The hope that had flared for three stupid seconds was gone. All that remained was the taste of blood in my mouth and the sound of my parents defending the man who had just publicly destroyed me.

A warrior I had once healed in secret-just a small cut after training-looked straight through me as if I had never existed. An older omega woman who used to nod at me in the corridors turned her face away. Even the ones who had never been cruel before now stood silent, watching, choosing the safety of the crowd over a single word of defense.

Patrick still didn't look back.

He simply walked deeper into the hall, already accepting congratulations, already smiling at something Seraphina said, as if the girl whose heart he had just shattered no longer existed. The pack closed around him like water. I had been erased in real time.

I stood there shaking, face stinging from the two open-handed slaps, tears falling freely now, while my parents dragged me toward the side doors. My mother's voice was low and vicious in my ear, but she made no effort to keep it private.

"You will never speak of this again. You will never approach him again. And if you ever make a scene like this in public, we will disown you ourselves. Do you understand me? You are a humiliation. You have always been a humiliation. Tonight you simply made it impossible to ignore."

My father added, louder, for the benefit of anyone still watching, "The Alpha Prince did what any sensible man would do. Be grateful he didn't let the rejection drag on."

The doors opened. Cold night air hit my wet face.

Behind me, the celebration continued without missing a beat. Music swelled. Glasses clinked. Laughter rose again-lighter now, as if the entertainment portion of the evening had ended and everyone could return to enjoying themselves. I heard Seraphina's voice one last time, bright with satisfaction, telling someone that the Moon Goddess had clearly come to her senses.

I didn't fight my parents as they pulled me outside. I just cried-ugly, helpless sobs that I could no longer hold back-while the broken pieces of the mate bond bled quietly inside my chest and the words "no man in his right mind" repeated over and over in my head.

Every face in that hall had watched.

Every voice that mattered had stayed silent or joined in.

My own blood had stood beside the man who called me fatass and told me I should be thankful.

That was the moment something inside me cracked.

Not just from the rejection.

But From the pure, undiluted betrayal of an entire pack that had looked at my pain and chosen to laugh.

LYDIA POV

They didn't take me home.

My parents dragged me past the kitchens, past the training grounds, and down the narrow stone steps that led to the old basement beneath the pack house. The air grew colder with every step. I stumbled, still crying, still begging them to stop, but my father's grip only tightened until I thought the bone might snap.

"You embarrassed us in front of the entire kingdom," he snarled. "The Alpha Prince rejected you and you still had the nerve to question him. Tonight you will learn your place."

The heavy wooden door slammed shut behind us. The lock turned with a final, ugly click.

I barely had time to turn before the first blow landed.

My mother's hand cracked across my face again, harder than before. I fell against the cold stone wall. My father didn't speak. He simply struck me across the shoulders, then the back, then the side of my head until I dropped to my knees. Pain exploded through my body. I curled inward, arms over my head, sobbing openly now.

"Please...stop..."

They didn't stop.

The door opened once more. Seraphina stepped inside, still wearing the elegant dress she had danced in, a pair of sharp shears dangling from her fingers. Her smile was bright and cruel.

"She doesn't need all that hair," she said lightly. "It only makes her look messier. And the minister won't care about it anyway."

I froze.

Minister?

My mother grabbed a fistful of my dark hair and yanked my head back. The shears closed with a harsh metallic sound. Chunk after chunk fell to the dirty floor. I thrashed, cried, begged, but the hands holding me were too strong. Tears streamed down my face as my hair, the only thing I had ever privately liked about myself, was cut away in uneven, humiliating handfuls. When they finished, cold air touched the back of my neck. I could feel how ragged and short it was.

Seraphina tossed the shears aside and crouched in front of me, tilting her head.

"There. Now you look exactly like what you are."

I was shaking so hard my teeth chattered. "What... what minister?"

My father answered, voice flat and final.

"Elder Minister Varkas from the eastern territory. He's been looking for a new... companion. He's old, wealthy, and he doesn't care about appearance as long as the girl is obedient and quiet. We already accepted his offer. He'll take you off our hands at dawn. The embarrassment ends tomorrow."

The words hit harder than any slap.

They were going to sell me.

Not just punish me. Not just lock me away. But to Sell me over to an old man like I was livestock that had become inconvenient.

Seraphina laughed softly. "Don't look so shocked. No one in this pack will ever want you after tonight. At least this way you won't starve. You should be grateful we're arranging anything at all."

My mother delivered one last slap, almost absent-minded, then stepped back.

"Stay quiet until morning. If you scream, no one will come. They're all still celebrating the Prince."

The door shut. The lock turned. Their footsteps faded up the stairs.

And Finally I was alone.

I stayed on the floor for a long time, forehead pressed to the cold stone, sobbing until no more sound would come out. My scalp burned where the hair had been torn and cut. My body ached from the blows. The broken mate bond still throbbed in my chest like an open wound that refused to close. Patrick's voice kept repeating in my head. "I reject you, fatass." My parents' voices followed. "No man in his right mind." And now a new one: "He'll take you off our hands at dawn."

Something inside me cracked wider.

I lifted my head.

The basement was almost completely dark except for a thin rectangle of moonlight coming through a small, barred window high on the wall. I stared at it until my vision cleared. The drop on the other side would be high. Dangerous. Possibly deadly if I landed wrong.

But dawn was coming.

And with dawn, I will be sold off to the old minister as his fourth Wife's.

I forced myself to stand. Every movement hurt. I dragged an empty wooden crate beneath the window, climbed onto it with shaking legs, and reached for the bars. They were old and rusted. I braced my feet and pulled with everything I had left. One bar shifted. Then another. The gap was narrow-barely wide enough for me-but I didn't stop. I shoved my head and shoulders through, skin tearing on the rough stone. I didn't care. Pain was already everywhere. A little more meant nothing.

The night air hit my face, cold and sharp.

I looked down.

The ground was farther than I expected.

I jumped anyway.

The impact stole the breath from my lungs. I hit hard, rolled across the grass, and lay there for several seconds, gasping, certain something was broken. Then I forced myself up. My ankle screamed. My palms were scraped raw. Blood trickled down one knee. I still ran.

I ran into the trees that bordered the eastern edge of the territory, barefoot, beaten, hair roughly shorn, the black dress torn and dirty. Branches clawed at my arms. Roots tried to trip me. I kept going because stopping meant being dragged back to that basement and handed over to a stranger at dawn.

Behind me, the pack house still glowed with celebration lights. Music drifted faintly on the wind. They were still laughing. Still dancing. Still toasting the Alpha Prince who had rejected me in front of everyone.

I didn't look back.

I pushed deeper into the woods until the lights disappeared and the only sound was my own ragged breathing and the distant night insects. My legs finally gave out near a fallen log. I collapsed onto the damp earth, arms wrapped around myself, and cried again-quiet, exhausted tears this time.

I had escaped the basement.

But I had nowhere to go.

No money. No allies. No family who would claim me. My own blood had beaten me, cut off my hair, and tried to sell me to an old man so they would never have to look at me again.

I forced myself to my feet once more, wiped the tears and dirt from my face with a trembling hand, and kept walking into the dark.

I had no plan.

I only knew one thing with absolute certainty.

I would rather die free in these woods than live as the thing they had decided I was.

LYDIA POV

I ran until my legs threatened to give out completely.

Every step sent a sharp, sickening pain up my twisted ankle. The cuts on my palms burned. My scalp still throbbed where the shears had torn through my hair. Branches slapped my face and arms as I forced my way deeper into the forest, but I didn't stop. Behind me, the first angry voices of my father's guards were already entering the trees.

"Spread out! She can't have gone far!"

"Check the eastern ravine - the minister is expecting her at dawn!"

"If she's damaged, your heads will roll with hers!"

Their words cut through the night louder than any howl. They weren't searching for a missing daughter. They were hunting property that had escaped.

I bit down on a sob and pushed harder. Tears mixed with sweat on my face. The black dress I had worn to the celebration was torn and filthy, hanging off me in ruined pieces. The uneven ends of my hair brushed against my neck with every movement, a constant, humiliating reminder of what Seraphina and my parents had done. My body screamed for rest. My lungs burned. Still I kept moving, because stopping meant being dragged back to that basement and handed over to an old man at first light.

I stumbled over a root and fell hard. Pain exploded through my ankle. For a moment I stayed on my hands and knees, forehead pressed to the damp earth, gasping. The broken mate bond in my chest throbbed in time with my heartbeat, a cruel reminder that even the Moon Goddess had given me something only to watch it be ripped away.

Get up.

I forced myself to my feet and limped onward.

The guards were getting closer. I could hear them crashing through the undergrowth, calling to one another, cursing my name. One of them passed so near that I had to drop flat behind a fallen log and hold my breath. His boots stopped less than ten feet away. I could smell the leather of his armor and the faint metallic scent of the weapons he carried. My heart slammed so hard I was terrified he would hear it.

"Nothing here," he muttered after a long moment. "Keep moving. She can't run forever on that ankle."

He moved on. I stayed frozen until the sound of his footsteps faded, then dragged myself up again and continued in the opposite direction. Every step was pure agony now. My vision blurred at the edges. I had lost track of how long I had been running. The night felt endless.

And then a little injury boy caught my attention.

He was lying half-hidden beneath a cluster of ferns, small and still. Blood soaked the side of his shirt. His breathing was shallow and too fast. An omega pup, no older than seven or eight. Probably caught in a trap or attacked during the chaos of the celebration while no one was watching the lower grounds.

I should have kept running.

The guards were close enough that I could still hear them. Every second I stayed increased the chance of capture. The minister's name flashed through my mind again, and with it the memory of my father's voice: *He'll take you off our hands at dawn.*

I dropped to my knees beside the boy anyway.

"Hey," I whispered, voice wrecked from crying and exhaustion. "Can you hear me?"

His eyelids fluttered but didn't open. More blood welled under my fingers when I pressed against the wound. He was dying.

I didn't think. I just pressed both hands to the injury the way I had done with small wounds in secret for years. The familiar warmth stirred under my skin - only this time it came faster, hotter, almost desperate. Soft white light spilled from my palms before I could stop it. The glow lit up the ferns and the boy's pale face, bright enough to push back the darkness.

I watched, stunned, as the bleeding slowed. The torn flesh began to knit together under the light. His breathing eased. Color slowly returned to his cheeks.

The light faded as suddenly as it had come, leaving my hands trembling and my entire body even weaker than before. The healing had cost me. I felt hollowed out, dizzy, on the edge of collapse.

The boy's eyes opened. He stared up at me with quiet, dazed wonder.

I had no time to feel relief.

A shout rose nearby - sharp and triumphant.

"Light! I saw light over there!"

Boots crashed toward us through the trees. Multiple sets. They had seen the white glow.

Panic gave me a final burst of strength. I hooked my hands under the boy's arms and tried to drag him with me into thicker cover. My ankle screamed. My vision swam. I made it only a few steps before my leg buckled completely and we both went down.

The first guard burst into the small clearing, followed by two more. Their faces lit with ugly satisfaction when they saw me on the ground.

"Got her!" one of them barked. "Send the signal - tell the Beta we've recovered his property!"

I shoved the boy behind me and tried to crawl backward, but there was nowhere left to go. My arms shook too hard to hold me up. The broken bond in my chest pulsed weakly, as if even that ruined connection knew I was finished.

One of the guards stepped forward, reaching for me.

I never saw the archer.

I only heard the sharp, vicious whistle of something cutting through the air.

Pain exploded in my left side - hot, deep, and wrong. I looked down in shock. The dark shaft of an arrow was buried in the flesh just below my ribs. Black liquid already seeped from the wound around the wood, spreading under my skin in thin, burning lines.

Poison.

The guard's triumphant expression faltered for a second in surprise, then twisted into something colder.

"That'll keep her from running again," someone called from the trees. "The minister won't mind a little damage as long as she's still breathing."

I tried to speak, to scream, to do anything, but the poison was already moving. Fire raced through my veins. My limbs grew heavy. The faces of the guards blurred and doubled. The little boy's frightened voice sounded far away.

My fingers scrabbled weakly at the dirt.

The last thing I felt before the darkness rushed up to claim me was the poison spreading deeper, and the distant, useless throb of the broken mate bond in my chest - as if even in this moment, some part of me was still waiting for someone who had already rejected me to care.