No one asked for Devon's side. No one ever did.
He became the pack's favorite target once more, the outcast, the cursed one, the shame they could purge with fists and cruelty.
They made him kneel in the rain, forced him to scrub blood from the training grounds that wasn't always his own. Some days, they locked him outside without food. Other days, they laughed while dunking his head into the icy river until he nearly stopped breathing.
Each time he crawled back to his small corner of the pack house, he told himself it couldn't get worse. Each time, he was wrong.
He no longer knew what day it was when the final blow came. He only remembered the shouting, the Beta's voice booming through the courtyard, rage thick and sharp.
"Bring him out!"
Devon was dragged by two enforcers, his knees scraping across the dirt. A crowd had gathered. His heart pounded as he caught sight of Adrian standing near his father, his eyes avoiding Devon's completely.
The Beta held up a small pouch of herbs, crushed, blood-stained, and reeking of wolfsbane.
"This," the Beta thundered, "was found in the Alpha's chamber. A poison strong enough to kill a full-grown wolf. And it belonged to him."
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Devon's breath caught. "That's not mine! I swear, I didn't..."
A blow silenced him. One of the enforcers struck his ribs hard enough that he choked on his words.
"Enough lies," the Beta spat. "You think I'd believe a weak omega over my own guards? You've been nothing but a curse since the day you were born. I should have had you thrown out long ago."
Devon's vision blurred, panic clawing at his throat. "Please..."
But then he saw Adrian. The one person who could save him. The one person who knew the truth.
"Adrian," Devon whispered, voice cracking. "You know I didn't..."
Adrian's jaw tightened. His eyes remained cold, his silence heavier than any accusation. And that silence condemned him.
The Beta raised his hand, final and unrelenting. "By the order of Redstone Pack, Devon Albert is hereby stripped of all rights and cast out as a rogue. He will leave our borders before sundown or be executed on sight."
The words echoed through the clearing, final as a death sentence. The enforcers didn't bother to let him walk. They beat him again, for good measure, for sport, for hate, until he couldn't even stand. Then they dragged his limp, bloodied body beyond the border and threw him into the mud.
"Consider yourself lucky," one sneered. "Most don't live long enough to see exile."
When they were gone, silence swallowed the forest. Devon lay there, half-conscious, the scent of earth and iron thick around him. Every breath burned. Every heartbeat felt like it might be his last. He didn't know how long he lay there, minutes, hours, maybe longer. The sun had already begun to set, painting the sky in the color of blood.
He could barely move, his body broken, his spirit even more so. His thoughts drifted, to his parents, to the life he never had, to the mate who refused him. Perhaps this was how it was meant to end. Forgotten. Alone.
But somewhere deep inside, a tiny spark refused to die. A whisper, faint but stubborn. Not yet.
With what little strength he had left, Devon crawled forward, toward the dark line of trees that marked the wilderness. Toward the unknown.
Every movement sent fire through his veins, but he didn't stop. If he was going to die, he would die on his own terms, not as Redstone's broken slave, but as himself. And so began the slow, painful walk into exile, into the endless forest where fate waited, silent and unseen.
Night crept slowly across the forest, swallowing the last traces of daylight.
Devon staggered until his legs finally gave way beneath an ancient oak, the bark rough against his torn back as he slid to the ground. His breaths came shallow, each one a ragged whisper of life. The cold bit into his skin, and the wind carried the scent of damp leaves, earth, and blood, his own.
He hadn't eaten in days. His stomach twisted painfully, but hunger no longer frightened him. The ache was familiar, like an old friend that had never truly left. What scared him now was the silence, heavy, absolute, as if the world itself had forgotten he existed.
His body trembled violently, exhaustion spreading through his limbs. He looked up at the stars, faint glimmers beyond the canopy of branches, and wondered if the Moon Goddess still saw him.
Does she still watch over rejects?
A broken laugh escaped his throat, dry and weak. He pressed a hand to his chest where his heart struggled to beat, where that cursed bond still pulsed, faint, unwanted, but alive. The scent of Adrian lingered in his memory, sharp and sweet, haunting.
He hated that it still made his heart ache.
Devon swallowed hard, tears slipping down the sides of his dirt-streaked face. His lips trembled as he forced the words past them, the ones he'd feared to say, the ones that would break him completely.
"I, Devon Albert…" His voice cracked, hoarse and faint. "…reject Adrian Lorne of Redstone Pack… as my mate."
The last word left his mouth like a final breath.
Then came the pain.
It struck him like lightning, searing through every nerve, tearing through bone and soul. His heart convulsed violently, the bond snapping like glass inside his chest. He screamed, or tried to, but the sound was swallowed by the forest. His body arched, his vision white with agony as the rejection took hold.
It was worse than any beating, worse than any wound he had ever suffered. It was death and rebirth all at once, the shattering of something that had once been whole.
When it finally ended, he collapsed back onto the ground, gasping. His body was drenched in sweat, his heartbeat faint but steady. The bond was gone. The warmth that had tied him to Adrian, gone. All that remained was an echo, hollow and cold.
Devon lay there for a long time, staring blankly at the night sky. The moon hung high, silver and distant, watching silently as if in mourning.
He closed his eyes, whispering to the dark, his voice trembling but resolute.
"I accept… that I am no longer part of Redstone Pack."
A pause.
"I am… an exile."
The words tasted bitter, yet they felt like freedom.
He didn't know what tomorrow would bring, if he would even live to see it, but for the first time in his life, the weight of the pack's chains no longer bound him. He was nothing… and maybe that was enough.
The wind sighed softly through the trees, carrying away his final tears.
Devon curled against the cold earth, too weak to move, too empty to hope.
As sleep took him, he didn't dream of home or love anymore, only of peace, and the quiet promise that maybe, somewhere beyond the pain, he would find it.