Rian's POV
Blood.
So much blood.
Marcus's blood, staining my hands, my clothes, my soul.
"Rian," he gasps, voice fading. "Rian, please—"
"I've got you." My voice breaks. "Stay with me. Please, Marcus, stay—"
But I don't have him. I never had him. Not when it mattered.
Kaine's laughter echoes through the warehouse. "Look at the mighty Alpha. So helpless. So weak."
Thirty wolves hold me down—I fought, god I fought, but there were too many. They force me to watch as Kaine circles my mate like a predator.
Marcus tries to stand. Fails. The silver chains burn his skin, keeping him helpless.
"Stop," I beg, shame forgotten. "Please. Take me instead. Kill me. Just let him go."
"But where's the fun in that?" Kaine crouches beside Marcus, claws extending. "You tried diplomacy, Blackwood. Tried to be the peaceful Alpha. Look where it got you."
"Kaine, please—"
"Begging now? How pathetic." His claws trace Marcus's throat. "Your mate will die because you were too weak to protect him. Remember that."
"No!" I struggle desperately. "NO!"
Kaine strikes.
Marcus's scream tears through me—through our bond, through my soul. I feel everything. Every cut, every wound, every moment of agony.
"MARCUS!"
Through our bond, I feel his pain. His fear. His love.
I don't blame you, his thoughts whisper. Not your fault. Love you. Always loved you.
"Don't leave me," I sob. "Please don't leave me—"
But he does.
I feel it—the exact moment our bond breaks. Like having my heart ripped out. Like dying but being forced to keep breathing.
Marcus's eyes go vacant. Empty. Gone.
A howl tears from my throat—grief and rage and absolute devastation. Something inside me shatters. Breaks beyond repair.
Kaine releases me. I crawl to Marcus, pulling his broken body into my arms.
"Come back," I whisper, rocking him. "Please come back. I can't—I can't do this without you—"
But the dead don't return.
"This is what weakness gets you, Blackwood," Kaine says, walking away. "Remember that. When you find another mate—and you will, fate is cruel that way—remember how easy it is to lose them."
His wolves follow, leaving me alone with Marcus's corpse and the shattered remains of my soul.
I don't know how long I sit there. Hours. Days. Time has no meaning.
Eventually, my pack finds me. Damon pulls me away gently.
"Alpha. Rian. We need to go."
"I failed him," I whisper. "I wasn't strong enough."
"This isn't your fault—"
"It IS!" The words explode from me. "I should have fought Kaine when he challenged me. Should have killed him before he could hurt Marcus. But I tried diplomacy. I tried to be good. And Marcus paid the price."
Damon has no answer. What answer exists?
They take me home. Bury Marcus with full honors. The pack grieves.
But I don't grieve. Grieving implies healing, moving on. I'll never move on.
I close myself off. Become the Alpha everyone expects—ruthless, strategic, cold. No mercy. No negotiation. No weakness.
No love.
Never again.
Five Years Later...
I stand in the cemetery, visiting Marcus's grave. I come every week. Penance. Remembrance. Punishment.
"I'm sorry," I whisper to the headstone. "I'm so fucking sorry."
The mate mark on my chest—Marcus's mark—has faded to a scar. But it still aches. Phantom pain from a bond forever broken.
"Alpha." Damon approaches carefully. "There's been a rogue incident. Near the eastern border."
"Casualties?"
"None. We drove them off. But—" He hesitates. "There was a human there. In the woods. He saw everything."
My blood runs cold. "A human witnessed a werewolf fight?"
"Yes. Young male. Mid-twenties. He ran before we could... handle the situation."
Handle. Meaning kill. We can't risk human exposure.
"Find him," I order. "Bring him to me. I'll deal with it personally."
Damon nods and leaves.
I turn back to Marcus's grave. "I won't fail again. Whatever it takes. I won't be weak again."
The wind whispers through the trees. No answer. No forgiveness.
But I don't deserve forgiveness.
One Week Later...
I track the human to his grandmother's old cabin. Remote. Isolated. Perfect.
Through the trees, I see him. Sitting on the porch, sketching in the moonlight.
My wolf surges forward—interested, alert, hungry.
I freeze. No. It can't be.
I move closer, staying downwind. Get a better look. Better scent.
Dark hair with silver streaks. Lean build. Focused expression. Beautiful in a way that makes my chest ache.
And his scent. God, his scent. Like pine and rain and something uniquely intoxicating.
My wolf roars in recognition.
MATE.
No. No, no, no.
I can't have another mate. Can't risk it. Won't survive losing someone again.
But my wolf doesn't care. It wants him. Needs him.
I should leave. Walk away. Let him live his human life, safe from my world.
But Kaine's words echo in my head: When you find another mate, remember how easy it is to lose them.
If I leave him, Kaine will find out eventually. Will use him against me. Kill him like he killed Marcus.
Unless...
Unless I claim him first. Bond him. Make him strong enough to survive. Keep him close. Protected. Mine.
It's wrong. I know it's wrong.
But I've already lost one mate to my weakness.
I won't lose another.
Two Weeks Later...
I've been watching him for weeks. Learning his patterns, his habits. Making sure he's really my fated mate.
He is. Every instinct confirms it.
Tonight, he's in the forest again. Painting under the full moon. Alone. Vulnerable.
Perfect timing.
A rogue pack attacks—different rogues, wrong place, wrong time. They're going for human prey.
They're going for him.
My control shatters.
I shift mid-run, my black wolf tearing through the rogues. Protecting what's mine even though he doesn't know it yet.
When the last rogue falls, I turn to him.
He's backed against a tree, terrified and beautiful. Our eyes meet.
The bond screams at me to claim him. Protect him. Make him mine.
I approach slowly. He should run. Doesn't.
I press close, breathing in his scent. My wolf is frantic—claim him, mark him, keep him.
I shouldn't. He hasn't consented. Doesn't even know what I am.
But Kaine is out there. Waiting. Watching.
And I can't lose another mate.
I shift to human form, naked and desperate. "Finally," I breathe. "I found you."
"What—who—"
I cup his throat, feeling his pulse race. "Mine," I growl.
My canines extend. He's going to hate me. I know he'll hate me.
But he'll be alive. Safe. Mine.
I bite.
His scream echoes through the forest as the bond snaps into place. Forced. Permanent. Unbreakable.
He collapses, and I catch him, holding him close.
"I'm sorry," I whisper against his hair, even though he can't hear me. "I'm so fucking sorry. But I can't lose you. Won't lose you."
The mate mark blooms on his throat—silver and beautiful. Mine.
I lift him into my arms and carry him home.
My captive.
My mate.
My second chance.
God forgive me for what I've done.
But I won't regret it.
I can't regret it.
Because this time, I'll be strong enough.
This time, I won't fail.