The Rejected daughter chosen by the Alpha (Maya and Atila) novel Chapter 86

Chapter 86

MAYA

Two Years Later

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I woke

up with my heart racing and my skin drenched in sweat, like I’d just run for miles. It took me a few seconds to remember where I was.

White ceiling. Beige curtains shifting in the cold London breeze. Lili’s soft meow somewhere in the apartment.

I dragged in a slow breath.

Just a nightmare. Again.

I scrubbed a hand over my face and pushed myself upright, waiting for my pulse to calm down. The smell of smoke still clung to my senses, phantom and stubborn. I knew it wasn’t real. Didn’t stop my body from reacting like it was.

I glanced at the clock on my nightstand.

Perfect. Almost late.

Oral exam and a trauma flashback before 9 a.m. Love that for me.

I swung my legs out of bed and headed for the bathroom. While I brushed my teeth, my reflection stared back at me-faint dark circles, tight shoulders, that constant edge under my skin I’d learned to live with.

Ever since I ran away two years ago, this was how most mornings started. On alert. Braced for something I couldn’t even name.

After the car accident, my memories shattered into fragments. They said I hit my head. They said the car exploded. They said I almost died.

I don’t remember any of it.

Not the crash. Not the fire. Not even the day I left home. It’s like someone took an eraser to my life and wiped whole sections clean.

All I know is that Beatrice pulled me out of that burning car.

I don’t remember that either.

I don’t remember the first day I met her.

Now she’s my best friend. My savior. The only person who knows about the blank spaces in my

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Chapter 86

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head and never tries to force me to fill them in. She has her own scars. Orphaned young. Raised by an uncle who helps her out-and who, coincidentally, owns the coffee chain where we work.

I slipped out of my pajamas and stood naked in front of the mirror. Turning sideways, I traced the uneven scar along my lower back. The skin there was different. Thinner. More sensitive. A permanent reminder of flames that refused to stay in the past.

Even in my dreams, the fire found me.

I closed my eyes, inhaled deeply, and stepped into the shower. The hot water helped wash away the worst of the panic, even if it couldn’t quiet the unease curling low in my stomach.

When I got out, I layered up-thermal top, dark jeans, thick coat. London in winter was brutal. In the kitchen, Beatrice was already up, stirring something in a small saucepan while the smell of fresh coffee filled the room.

“Morning, sleepyhead.”

“Morning, Bee.”

She looked at me a beat too long.

“You’ve got that face again. The one that says you didn’t actually sleep. What happened?”

“Oral exam. Biological Psychology. With the world’s most unbearable professor.”

She winced. “Dr. Richard Hale still making your life hell?”

“He makes everyone’s life hell. With me, he just likes to get… creative.”

I didn’t say out loud that his “academic feedback” came with lingering looks and comments that felt a little too personal. Beatrice had noticed. She didn’t need details.

“And,” I added, reaching for a piece of toast, “I had the nightmare again.”

S

She froze mid-stir. “The same one?”

I nodded.

“Dark place. Fire everywhere. And a man carrying me.”

“Do you see his face?”

I forced myself to search for it.

Nothing.

Just a tall silhouette. Broad shoulders. Smoke wrapping around him like a second skin.

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Chapter 86

“No. Just the outline.”

Beatrice went quiet, thinking.

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“Maybe I should talk to my uncle,” she said carefully. “About… you know. Therapy. Or someone who could help. He knows people.”

“You don’t have to do that, Bee.”

Her brows knit together. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. I just need to survive this exam.”

I bit into the toast and gave her a half-smile.

“Besides, I still want to meet your mysterious uncle. Two years working at his café and I’ve never even seen the guy.”

She scratched the back of her neck, suddenly uncomfortable.

“He travels a lot. He’s private.”

“Or suspiciously secretive.”

She laughed, but there was tension in her eyes.

“You’ll meet him someday.”

I checked the time on my watch and stood.

“If I’m late, Dr. Hale will absolutely take it as a personal invitation to humiliate me.”

I grabbed my bag, kissed her cheek, and headed out.

The Tube was packed, as usual. I got off at the stop closest to University College London and walked the familiar streets, the wind slicing across my face. Passing through the gates always did something to me.

Purpose. Focus.

The classical façade, the towering columns, students rushing across the courtyard. The mix of historic architecture and sleek modern buildings felt like a contradiction that somehow worked.

I was majoring in Psychology. It had become my dream. Ours, technically-mine and Beatrice’s, as she liked to remind me, “Ever since we met behind that coffee counter,” she always said.

I walked down the main corridor, past the glass walls of the Student Centre, following the signs to Biological Psychology. My stomach tightened as I thought about Dr. Richard Hale and his oral exams. I could already hear his sarcastic tone, feel the way he’d try to throw me off balance.

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Chapter 86

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I stepped into the classroom and took my usual seat-middle row, safely neutral. Some students whispered. Others flipped through notes.

The professor was late.

That was new.

He was never late.

A few more minutes passed before the door finally opened.

It wasn’t Dr. Hale.

The man who walked in carried himself with too much authority to be just another academic. Tall. Broad shoulders under a perfectly tailored white dress shirt. The fabric stretched naturally over solid muscle. Dark hair, sharply cut. And eyes-light, somewhere between blue and green, shifting with the light.

Holy hell.

The room went silent.

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