Page 59 of Broken Rejected Mate

My heart is in my throat, and I shake my head, forcing out a sound, anything so Sarina doesn’t catch onto the fact that my world is imploding right now.

She’s nine. Turning ten. Not eight, turning nine. Not turning eight.

She’s turning ten. Which, coincidentally, lines up perfectly with the timeline of that night. The night that Veva came to me to tell me she thought she might be pregnant.

The entire thing flashes through my mind, like I’m watching the movie of what happened. Veva climbing through my window that night. Going home, packing her things, leaving the territory. Finding that camp and having our daughter, alone. Raising her there, caring for her. Doing it all without me.

Without anyone.

But then, returning. Coming back, realizing this pack could be a home. And still, keeping this information from me. Lying right to my face when I asked.

I get the first time, in the hospital. I even understand the lying before her heat. Before we had each other and held each other for nine straight days.

When I lift my head, I see Veva across the roof from me, her eyes locked on mine. There’s something strange there in her expression. Ash stands in front of her, trying to have a conversation, and I watch as Veva excuses herself, starts making her way toward me.

“Oh, look,” Sarina says. “Mom is coming!”

I want to stand up out of this chair, confront Veva about this. But it’s not the right time, not the right place. This is private, and not something I want to talk about in front of half the pack. Not something I want to talk about in front of Sarina.

So I stick it out through the rest of the party, anger and disbelief churning, hot and sticky, in my stomach. I can’t believe she lied to me.

I can’t believe I fell for it.

Chapter 33 - Veva

Emin is silent for the entire ride home. He sits still in the driver’s seat, looking straight ahead out the windshield, his lips pressed into a flat line. It mists gently outside, coating the windows and making the water run like quicksilver down the sides of the car.

It almost never rains here, the land dry and barren. When it does rain, it’s usually brief. It will likely even be done by the time we pull in at home.

Sarina is asleep in the back seat, the excitement of the day having worn her out.

I chew on my lip, wanting to just come out and tell him right now. But he’s already in a bad mood, and I’m not sure why. Then, I glance at Sarina in the back seat.

Maybe I’m ready to tell Emin, but I don’t want to her to overhear it if she’s not asleep. When we tell her, we need to plan for it. Come to her as a united front.

The last thing I’ll ever do is make her feel like Emin is someone she can lose. I’ll tell him first, make sure he wants to be a father to her, then move forward with telling Sarina the truth.

Up until this moment, I didn’t think it was even a question—that Emin wants her. Wants us. But when he pulls into the driveway, he barely looks at me as we climb out of the car. I move to the back seat to gather Sarina in my arms and carry her inside, but Emin just brushes me off, reaching in and picking her up. In her sleep, Sarina lets out a low noise and wraps her arms around Emin’s neck.

It makes my chest tighten. How much she trusts him already.

Together, we move inside, getting her into her room. I tuck her into the bed, undressing her, and Emin returns when she’s in her pajamas, handing me a warm cloth. I wipe off her face, and she curls into me, blinking sleepily.

I lean down and kiss her forehead. “I love you, baby. I’ll come to bed soon, okay?”

She sighs, blinks again. “Okay.”

When I step out into the hallway, Emin is already sitting in his room, roughly yanking off his dress shoes. Still not looking at me.

“Emin,” I start, but when I step inside, shutting the door behind me, he whips his head up to glare at me, the look full of hurt and anger.

“You lied to me.”

It’s only four words, but it makes my stomach drop to the floor.

“Emin,” I start, shaking my head and taking a step toward him. “I was going to tell you—”

“When?” he snaps, still keeping his voice below a whisper. Even angry with me, having just found this out, he’s careful not to wake her, not to frighten her. “Whenwere you going to tell me, Veva? When she turned eighteen?”

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