Empty Vows

Alpha Gideon’s POV

Five years.

Half a decade.

That was the staggering amount of time Nadia and I had been officially mated. As I forced my heavy eyelids open to the morning sun bleeding through the heavy bedroom curtains, all that greeted me was the cold, unwrinkled expanse of an empty bed beside me. The mattress held no warmth. The pillows bore no indentation. It was a sterile, lifeless space. The suffocating emptiness of our relationship gnawed at my chest, an ever-present ache that festered in the space where a mate’s bond should thrive. My inner wolf paced in the dark corners of my mind, restless, starving for a connection that never came.

I threw off the covers and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. The hardwood floor chilled my bare feet, a fitting parallel to the state of my marriage. I mechanically went through the motions of the morning. I stepped into the bathroom, turned the shower handle to the coldest setting, and let the freezing water shock my system. I needed the ice to numb the frustration simmering beneath my skin. Stepping out, I dried off and walked into my expansive closet. I pulled a heavy, dark blue suit from the rack, dressing myself in my Alpha attire. I fastened the buttons, adjusted my tie, and rolled my shoulders. The tailored fabric fit my broad, muscular frame like a second skin, projecting the flawless image of a powerful Alpha King. On the outside, I was unbreakable. On the inside, the foundation of my life felt like crumbling ash.

I stepped out of the master suite and walked down the sweeping grand staircase. Halfway down, a rich, savory aroma drifted upward, catching my attention. The scent of sizzling butter, cracked eggs, and toasted bread filled the cavernous halls of the pack house. My boots halted on the carpeted stairs. The maids rarely cooked this early unless commanded, and their meals never carried this specific, homely scent.

For a singular, foolish heartbeat, a fragile hope flared in my chest.

Maybe it was Nadia. Maybe, after five grueling years of cold shoulders and locked doors, she had finally decided to act like a true mate. Maybe the Moon Goddess had finally sparked something within her icy exterior.

Driven by that pathetic sliver of optimism, I strode down the remaining steps and pushed through the double doors leading into the sprawling kitchen. The morning light poured over the granite countertops and stainless steel appliances. A woman stood diligently at the stove, her back to me, working a spatula over a hot skillet.

Reality hit me like a physical blow.

It was my sister, Giselle. She had returned unannounced, standing there in casual clothes, humming a soft tune. The fragile hope in my chest died instantly, turning to ash.

A heavy sigh escaped my lips, louder than I intended.

Giselle turned off the burner at the sound of my boots on the tile. She glanced over her shoulder, wiping her hands on a dish towel. A warm, knowing smile spread across her face, but it didn't reach her eyes. Her gaze softened with a pity I despised.

"Good morning, brother," she said, her voice gentle. "Surprise."

I walked deeper into the kitchen, the sharp frustration evident in my rigid posture. I sank heavily into a wooden dining chair at the island counter. The accumulated weight of the past half-decade pressed down on my shoulders like a physical burden, making my broad frame hunch forward.

"I didn't know you were coming back," I muttered, rubbing the tension from my jaw.

"I wanted to surprise you," she replied, plating the food. She slid a hot plate of eggs and toast across the granite counter toward me. She studied my face for a long moment. "You look disappointed."

I stared at the steam rising from the food. I did not pick up the fork. I hated lying to her, and I hated hearing the truth spoken aloud even more. "I genuinely thought she was the one cooking."

Giselle sighed. She leaned her hip against the counter, crossing her arms over her chest. "Nadia?"

"Who else?" I shot back, my voice laced with sharp bitterness.

Giselle shook her head, the pity in her blue eyes intensifying. "Gideon, it has been five years. You should know by now that Nadia is never the type to domesticate herself. She does not cook. She does not care if you eat. Why do you keep torturing yourself with these expectations?"

I dragged both hands down my face, exhaling a rough, jagged breath. I looked at my sister, stripping away the Alpha mask, and laid bare my darkest secret.

"It’s been five damn years, Giselle, and I still don’t feel the mate bond. Not a spark. Not a pull. Nothing." I slammed my fist lightly against the table, the frustration leaking into the room. "Every day feels forced. Every interaction feels like a business transaction. I wake up every morning feeling hollow."

"Then why do you endure it?" Giselle asked, her voice steady but demanding. "You are the Alpha. You have the power to sever this."

I let out a harsh, humorless laugh. "Do I? You know the intricate political trap I am in. The conservative elders practically worship the ground Nadia walks on. To them, she is the epitome of a strong, flawless Luna. She handles the galas, she shakes the right hands, she smiles for the cameras. If I formally reject a bond ordained by the Moon Goddess, the council will tear me apart. I would appear weak to the pack. A leader who cannot even manage his own fated mate cannot manage a kingdom. They would question my judgment, my strength, and my sanity."

Giselle’s eyes flashed with anger. "The elders only see what she wants them to see. They do not see what happens behind closed doors."

"Behind closed doors, the reality is a nightmare," I snarled, my inner wolf pacing closer to the surface. "She is an iceberg. Cold. Emotionally detached. She recoils if our shoulders brush in the hallway. And worse, you know how she treats the pack. She casually treats the lower-ranking members, the omegas, like dirt beneath her expensive shoes. She barks orders, demands absolute servitude, and offers zero protection in return. A Luna is supposed to be the heart of the pack. Nadia is just a tyrant in a designer dress."

Giselle pushed away from the counter and stepped closer to me. Her voice dropped to an urgent, gentle register as she challenged me. "The mate bond is supposed to be the deepest magic our kind knows, Gideon. If she is truly your fated mate, ordained by the Moon Goddess herself, ask yourself this—why would a true mate ever leave you feeling so inherently empty?"

The question hung in the air, heavy and sharp. I opened my mouth to respond, to defend the ancient magic I had grown up believing in, but a sudden sound severed the moment.

*Click. Click. Click.*

The sharp, rhythmic clicking of designer heels echoed on the hardwood floor of the hallway, growing louder with every second. The atmosphere in the kitchen shifted instantly. The warmth Giselle brought vanished, replaced by a biting chill.

Nadia stepped into the kitchen.

She was dressed impeccably. She wore a tailored black dress that clung to her curves, paired with lethal stilettos. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders in perfect, calculated waves. Her makeup was sharp, highlighting her high cheekbones and dark eyes. She was a walking portrait of the flawless Luna she portrayed to the public. But her eyes held none of the warmth a mate should possess. Instead, she looked at Giselle and me with the guarded suspicion of a complete stranger.

She stopped near the island, crossing her arms. Her gaze darted between us.

"What are you whispering about?" she demanded, the accusation clear in her sharp, commanding tone.

My inner wolf stirred at the blatant disrespect. A low rumble of silent, instinctual anger vibrated in my chest. I stayed seated, but my posture stiffened. "Is that an appropriate way to greet your husband in the morning?" I spat back, my jaw clenching.

Nadia rolled her eyes, unapologetic. "I am not in the mood for pleasantries, Gideon. I asked a question."

Giselle stepped forward, attempting to defuse the rising tension. She kept her voice cautious but firm. "We were just talking, Nadia. We were discussing the mate bond. It is a sacred thing. It should naturally draw two people closer over time. It should bring warmth to this house."

Nadia let out a harsh, dismissive scoff. The sound grated against my ears. She flipped her perfectly styled hair over her shoulder and looked at Giselle as if my sister were a naive child. With a few callous words, Nadia shattered the sanctity of our union.

"The mate bond is what it is," she declared coldly, her dark eyes locking onto mine. "It is biology and politics. We don’t have to be sickeningly in love like some fairy tale. We have an understanding, Gideon. You lead the pack. I stand by your side. We project power. We keep the elders satisfied. We don’t need to pretend to be something we’re not."

Her blatant, unapologetic disregard for the spiritual connection we were supposed to share snapped the last fraying thread of my patience. Five years of biting my tongue. Five years of sleeping on the edge of the mattress. Five years of burying my wolf’s primal need for a mate.

I erupted.

I surged to my feet and slammed my open palm violently against the granite countertop.

*CRACK.*

The explosive sound echoed off the kitchen walls like a gunshot, making both women flinch physically. My oppressive Alpha dominance instantly flooded the room, heavy and suffocating. The air pressure dropped. The invisible weight of my authority pressed down on every inch of the space, demanding submission from every wolf present. Giselle took a step back, lowering her gaze out of pure instinct.

I leaned forward over the counter, closing the distance between Nadia and myself. My eyes bled into the glowing gold of my wolf. My voice dropped to a dangerously low, gravelly growl that vibrated through the floorboards.

"You are my mate," I commanded explicitly, the Alpha frequency lacing every single syllable. "And you will act like it. I have sacrificed my personal happiness for this pack. I have endured half a decade of misery, waiting for a miraculous shift in your demeanor that is never coming. You take the title, you wear the clothes, you command my people, but you give nothing in return. I am done operating on your terms."

A brief, fleeting shadow of genuine nervousness passed over Nadia's perfectly contoured face. Her breath hitched. Her shoulders tensed under the crushing weight of my aura. For a split second, I saw the crack in her armor.

But she recovered with maddening speed. She masked the fear, lifting her chin to defy my dominance. She smoothly reached past me, picking up a ceramic coffee cup from the rack. She looked me dead in the eyes, her expression reverting to stone.

"Then that is your problem, Gideon," she dismissed coldly, turning her back on me.

She pivoted to walk away, ignoring my authority entirely. The blatant disrespect triggered a primal reflex deep within my nervous system. I did not think. I reacted.

I reached out across the space and clamped my hand securely around her slender wrist. My grip was iron. I violently yanked her backward, halting her retreat instantly.

"Do not walk away from me when I am speaking," I growled, pulling her close enough to feel the coldness radiating off her skin. "I am not merely your disillusioned husband. I am your Alpha King. I demand your absolute respect."

Her dark eyes widened in shock at the physical contact. I stared down at her, searching for any spark, any heat, any sign of the sacred mate bond connecting our souls.

There was nothing. Just cold, empty skin.

Disgusted by her proximity and the hollow reality of our marriage, I abruptly released my grip. I shoved her wrist away, breaking the contact as if her touch burned me.

The sudden loss of tension caught her off guard. She had been pulling against my grip, and without my hand anchoring her, she lost her footing entirely. The lethal stilettos she wore betrayed her balance. She stumbled backward, her eyes wide with panic. Her arms flailed through the air, knocking the ceramic coffee cup from the counter. It shattered on the floor, sending white shards flying across the tile.

A second later, Nadia crashed hard onto the kitchen floor.

She landed awkwardly, her tailored dress bunching up, her perfect image shattered in an instant. She gasped, staring up at me from the ground, her chest heaving with a mix of shock and fury.

I stood over her, my chest rising and falling, my Alpha aura still suffocating the room. Giselle remained frozen near the stove, watching the domestic warfare unfold in stunned silence. The heavy, oppressive quiet stretched between us, thick with unspoken resentment and broken promises.

Before Nadia could scramble to her feet, before she could unleash the venomous words I knew were forming on her tongue, the tense silence was abruptly shattered.

The heavy oak doors leading into the kitchen burst violently open, slamming against the drywall with a thunderous crack.

A border patrol guard stumbled inside, breaking the heavy tension in the room. He was covered in dirt and sweat. He gasped desperately for air, his chest heaving violently. Blood stained the shoulder of his uniform. His eyes were blown wide with absolute, primal panic. He did not notice Nadia on the floor. He did not notice the broken ceramic. His gaze locked directly onto me.

"Alpha," he panted, his voice cracking with terror. "We’re under attack."