Fleeing From The Heartless Alpha

I've been bound to Damian Westbrook for two years, and I finally made up my mind to change my last name to match his, to make our sacred bond official in every way. It felt like the right step, you know? A way to cement us, to show the world I'm his she-wolf, his mate, forever.

But when I got to the pack's records office, things went sideways fast. The clerk, a wiry wolf with glasses perched on his snout, scanned my papers, muttering, "Name: Amelia, 23, unbound."

"Hold up," I cut in, my voice sharper than I meant. "I've been bound to Damian for two years!" I yanked out the ornate binding scroll, its wax seal gleaming with our pack's crest, and slid it across the counter.

The clerk's eyes flicked over it, then back to me, his expression twisting into something unreadable, like he'd just sniffed out bad meat. A few minutes later, he pushed the scroll back, his voice low. "Ms. Westbrook, I suggest you take this to the pack's council hall. You can still change your name without being bound, if you want. Do you?"

My stomach churned. I didn't even answer-just grabbed my stuff and bolted, hailing a ride to the council hall like my life depended on it.

What I found there hit me like a claw to the chest.

"She-wolf," the council elder said, her amber eyes soft with pity, "Damian's mate, as recorded, is Hazel Wynn. Not you."

The world tilted. My right ear, the one that's been deaf since forever, started ringing, a sharp, piercing wail that drowned out everything. My knees buckled, and as I crumpled, one thought clawed at my mind: Hazel's just a stand-in, right?

She was supposed to be the she-wolf Damian clung to while I was gone for three years, studying abroad in another pack's territory. A substitute to ease his longing for me. So why-why-was she listed as his mate?

I woke up in the healer's den, the sterile scent of herbs stinging my nose. My first thought was Damian. I needed answers. I needed him to tell me this was all a mistake. But when I got to his den, I froze outside the door, overhearing voices that shattered me all over again.

"When are you gonna get that birth-block ring out of Amelia's body?" a gruff voice demanded-probably Marcus, Damian's old healer friend. "It's shifted already. If it stays in, she'll get womb-rot. She'll never bear pups!"

Birth-block ring?

My hand flew to my belly, disbelief choking me. I flashed back to two years ago, right before our binding ceremony. I'd been doubled over in agony, and Damian, his face tight with something I couldn't read, swore it was just a bad gut flare-up. "Nothing serious, Amelia," he'd said, all calm and certain. "Just a quick fix." When I woke up after the healer's work, my stomach felt wrong, heavy, but Damian's soft voice soothed me. "Just recovery jitters, love. Don't worry-it won't mess with our first night as mates." I'd blushed, burying my face in his chest, too smitten to notice the shadow in his eyes.

"No rush," Damian's lazy drawl snapped me back to the present. "Wait till Hazel's done with her pack-wide tour. Just give Amelia some pain-dampers for now."

Pain-dampers? My blood ran cold.

"I don't get it," Marcus growled. "You and Amelia defied the whole pack, endured three years apart, and now you're finally together. So why bind yourself to Hazel? Be real, Damian-have you caught feelings for her?"

Silence hung heavy, each second a blade twisting in my gut.

Then Damian spoke, and his words killed something inside me. "Those three years Amelia was gone? Hazel was the only thing keeping me sane. She wants a sacred bond as compensation, so I gave it to her. But in my heart, it's always been Amelia."

My vision blurred. The cigarette I didn't realize I was holding burned my fingers as I clenched it tighter. My throat locked up, and I swallowed a sob.

Marcus didn't let up. "You're a damn fool, Westbrook. Amelia's fierce-she stood up to your whole pack for you. If she finds out, she might rip your bond apart for good!"

Damian's voice dropped, low and raw. "Then she can never know."

Their footsteps faded, and I sank to the ground, muffling my cries with my hands. Despair clawed me raw.

Our fathers were sworn brothers, both Westbrooks, wolves who fought side by side, bled for each other. Until my dad died saving Damian's. The Westbrook pack took me in, a stray pup with nowhere else to go. Damian and I grew up together, two pups chasing each other through the woods, inseparable. But as we got older, our bond-our real bond-became something the pack couldn't accept. My blood wasn't pure enough, not for their golden wolf.

Still, I fell for him, hard. At eighteen, we stole moments of forbidden love, hands clasped under the dinner table, sneaking kisses in dark corners, tangled up in each other's arms every night. It was reckless, wild, perfect-until the pack decided Damian needed a proper mate, a she-wolf from a rival clan.

I'll never forget the day he took my hand in front of everyone, defying the elders. "Amelia's my mate," he swore, his voice like thunder. "No one else."

I was a mess, sobbing, begging the pack to forgive us. When they refused, I took the punishment alone-eighty-eight lashes, one for every law we'd broken. The final whip caught my right ear, tearing flesh, spilling blood, leaving a scar like a gnarled centipede. It stole my hearing on that side forever.

But Damian didn't care about the scar. He held me, kissed it, called it beautiful. He went on a hunger strike, howling to the pack, "Without Amelia, I'd rather die!" That broke them. They gave us a chance, but it came at a cost: three years abroad, separated, me studying in a foreign pack's lands. Those 1,095 days, I survived on love alone, clinging to his promises.

Then I came back. Day one, a car wreck nearly took me out. Damian rushed to the scene, but he wasn't holding me. He was cradling Hazel, a trembling she-wolf, letting her slap his face as she sobbed. "I'm sorry, Hazel, I got here too late," he said, guilt dripping from every word.

I thought I'd misheard, my damaged ear playing tricks. "Damian?" I whispered.

He froze, then turned, his eyes wide with panic. He explained, apologized, even dropped to his knees in front of Hazel, slapping himself. "Amelia, I messed up. I missed you so much, I found a stand-in. Hazel's just a pup I'm sponsoring, nothing more. I swear, without you, I'd die."

I believed him. Hazel vanished, and I let it go, thinking it was just a bad dream. We formed our sacred bond, and he gave me the grandest binding ceremony the pack had ever seen. I was his mate, his she-wolf, in every way that mattered.

Or so I thought.

Now, standing outside that door, hearing the truth, I realized it was all a lie. Our love, our bond-it was a cruel illusion. Worse than betrayal was knowing we'd once run toward each other, hearts open, only to end up in this nightmare of half-truths and broken promises.

Damian, what am I to you?

That night, I dragged myself back to our den. Damian was on me the second I walked in, wrapping me in his arms like I was his whole world. "You collapsed and didn't stay with the healers? Amelia, you scared the hell out of me! No calls, no texts-where were you?"

His tone softened as he nuzzled my neck, all puppy-like. "I'm sorry, love. I shouldn't have let you go out alone. I should be by your side, always, so you can never slip away."

He loves me. I know he does. But there's another she-wolf in his heart, splitting it in two.

I forced a weak smile. "Just got a little spa treatment. Didn't check my phone."

My voice sounded hollow, and he noticed. He pulled me onto the couch, kneeling beside me, his eyes burning with that intense, wolfish devotion. "Amelia, you're okay, right? The healers said you've been overdoing it with those vitality herbs. Your body can't handle it. We don't need to rush for pups, yeah? We've got time."

Two years, I've beaten myself up over not giving him a pup, thinking it was my fault. I tried everything-herbs, rituals, anything to prove my love. I lost my sense of taste, couldn't sleep, but I took it all, thinking it was worth it. Now I know the truth: he stole my chance to be a mother, hid that birth-block ring inside me.

If I hadn't gone to change my name, worried our pup might question why we share a surname, would I have been fooled forever?

"What's wrong?" Damian asked, his voice tinged with nerves as I stared at him. He grabbed my hand, lacing our fingers together.

I forced another smile, my lips trembling. "Tomorrow's the day we visit the old pack den."

His face lit up, then faltered. He pulled out a pair of star-blue earrings, moving to put them on me, but froze when he saw the scar on my ear. He set them down, gripping my hand tighter. "Amelia, I just remembered-I've got something tomorrow. Can you go alone?"

The Westbrook pack has never accepted me, a half-blood she-wolf. Every visit, Damian's been my shield, promising, "I'm your rock, Amelia, always." Now he's breaking that vow.

"What's up?" I asked, my voice sharper than I meant.

He hesitated, caught off guard. "A friend's got a performance. I promised I'd show up."

"Performance?"

He didn't lie. "It's Hazel. But listen, Amelia, she's just a pup I'm sponsoring. There's nothing between us. If you don't want me to go, I won't. You call the shots."

If I stopped him, would he really stay? Or would he just sneak off anyway?

"Go," I said, my voice barely a whisper.

He exhaled, relieved, and kissed my forehead, all tender and sweet. "That's my Amelia, always so understanding. I screwed up with the earrings. That scar-it's nothing. We'll find a healer soon. They can fix anything these days."

I stared at the earrings, their blue glow like a distant sea. "Do you hate it?" I asked suddenly.

"What? No!" He pulled me close, his arms a cage of warmth. "Amelia, that scar's your mark of love for me. It's my treasure. Don't ever say that again."

".Okay," I murmured, but the word felt like ash in my mouth.