Marcus POV
Another bottle of whiskey shattered against the wall, its amber contents exploding to join the pile of glass that already littered the Alpha’s office.
Three days.
It had been three days since the wedding—since the Marking.
I hadn't showered. I hadn't eaten. I sat entombed in the dark, drinking until I passed out, hoping to drown the screaming of my wolf. But the screaming had stopped, and the silence in my head was infinitely worse. The bond wasn't just broken; it had been ripped out, leaving a gaping, festering wound in my soul.
"Marcus?"
The door creaked open. It was Richard, the Pack Elder.
"Get out," I growled, my voice rasping like sandpaper.
"We have a problem, Alpha," Richard said, his voice stern. He didn't bow. He didn't offer the respect my title demanded, because I was no longer commanding it. "The patrols haven't been assigned for two days. Rogues have been spotted near the northern border. The pack is nervous."
"Let the Betas handle it," I muttered, waving my hand dismissively as I reached blindly for another bottle.
"The Betas are looking to *you*!" Richard snapped, stepping fully into the room. "Look at yourself! You are an Alpha! Act like one!"
"I lost her, Richard," I whispered, the fight draining out of me like blood from a severed vein. "I rejected her because I thought she was weak. Because I thought she was a nobody."
I laughed bitterly, the sound sharp and jagged in the quiet room. "She's a White Wolf. Do you know how rare that is? And she’s with *him* now."
"You made a choice," Richard said coldly. "Now you must live with it. Or die with it. But do not drag this pack down with you."
He threw a folder onto my desk. It slid across the mahogany surface, hitting my hand. "And you should look at this. It concerns your 'fiancée'."
I frowned, my fingers trembling as I picked up the folder. Inside were photos. Bank statements.
Chloe.
There were pictures of her meeting with Rogues. Transfers of pack funds into a private account. And a diary entry... a copy of a page.
*The idiot actually believes I love him. As soon as I'm Luna, I'll drain the accounts and leave. He's so obsessed with status he can't see what's right in front of him.*
I stared at the paper. The words swam before my eyes, then sharpened into crystal clarity.
I had thrown away my Fated Mate, a White Wolf, for this? For a leech?
A cold fury began to rise in my gut. It wasn't the hot, blinding rage of the Marking. This was icy. Calculated. Deadly.
I stood up. The room spun, but I steadied myself against the desk.
"Where is she?" I asked.
"In her room," Richard said. "Trying on wedding dresses."
I walked out of the office. The pack members I passed shrank away from me, pressing themselves against the corridor walls. I smelled like stale alcohol and violence.
I kicked open the door to Chloe's room. The wood splintered. She spun around, a silk dress held up to her body, her face flushed with excitement.
"Marcus! Darling, look! Do you think this—"
"Get out," I said quietly.
She blinked, her smile faltering. "What?"
"Get out of my pack. Now."
"You... you can't be serious," she laughed nervously, taking a tentative step forward. "We're getting married next week!"
I threw the folder at her feet. Photos scattered across the floor like autumn leaves. Her face went pale as she recognized the images.
"I gave up everything for you," I said, my voice shaking with restrained violence. "I broke her heart for *you*."
I grabbed a silver letter opener from her vanity desk. The metal burned my skin, searing the flesh, but I squeezed it tight, letting the physical pain distract me from the agony in my soul.
"If you are not off my territory in ten minutes," I said, blood dripping from my hand to stain the carpet, "I will kill you myself."
Chloe didn't argue. She saw the look in my eyes—the void where my humanity used to be. She grabbed her purse and ran.
I stood alone in the room. It was quiet.
I looked at my bleeding hand. The silver burn was turning black.
I deserved this pain. I deserved worse.
I walked to the window and looked out towards the south. Towards the Blood Rose Pack.
I knew I had lost her. I knew she belonged to another. But the pull... it wasn't gone. It was just twisted into something agonizing.
I couldn't stay here. I couldn't be the Alpha this pack needed. Not while my soul was bleeding out.
I turned to Richard, who was standing in the doorway, watching me with a mix of pity and resignation.
"Take over," I said.
"Marcus?"
"I'm leaving," I said, grabbing my coat. "I have to find... I have to try."
"She is Marked, Marcus. There is no going back."
"I know," I said, touching the empty spot on my chest where the bond used to be. "But I have to see her one last time. I have to beg for forgiveness. Even if she spits in my face."
I walked out of the Pack house, leaving my title, my home, and my dignity behind. I was just a man now. A man walking into his own funeral pyre.
As I crossed the border, the wind shifted. For a brief, cruel second, I caught the scent of Winter Frost. It was faint, mocking me. I followed it into the darkness, unaware that I wasn't just walking toward my past, but toward a secret Ellie had kept—a secret that would shatter whatever was left of my heart.
