Truths and Regrets

***Marcella***

“What?” I snap. The word tears from my throat. My sanity hangs by a single, fraying thread. I stare at the man who was just my husband, the man who just broke my soul into jagged pieces. “You’re taking her as your Luna?”

Cassian shrugs. He doesn't look away. He doesn't flinch. A cruel smirk plays on his lips as he nods toward the heavy oak doors. “What I do now is no longer your concern. See yourself out. Now.”

Sabrina steps closer to him. She links her arm through his, pressing her chest against his bicep. She practically glows with victory, her eyes shining with a sickening triumph. She mouths a lame apology to me, but the wicked curl of her lips betrays the lie.

A million vile thoughts flood my brain. I want to scream. I want to claw her eyes out. Instead, I bite the inside of my cheek until I taste copper. I bend forward into a low, mocking bow, letting my hair fall to hide the hot tears threatening to spill over my lashes.

“I wish you two a long and happy reign together,” I whisper. My voice holds the coldness of a winter grave. I clutch the stupid wedding rings in my hands, the metal biting into my palms.

A microscopic sliver of hope still clings to my ribs. A foolish, desperate part of my brain prays this is a test, a sick joke, a nightmare I will wake up from.

Then Cassian turns his head and kisses her.

That sliver of hope turns to ash. Sabrina whimpers into his mouth. She jumps up, wrapping her legs around his waist. Cassian catches her, his hands gripping her thighs as he deepens the kiss. Her moans echo off the walls of the Alpha’s office, high-pitched and eager.

The sight makes my stomach heave. Tears spill down my cheeks. I spin on my heel and sprint out of the room. I run down the long, carpeted hallways of the pack house, my chest burning, unable to stomach the sight of them for another second.

I hold back my sobs until I reach the guest bedroom. I throw open the closet door and drag out the duffel bag I hid there days ago. My throat aches from the wails clawing to get out. I carry the bag down the hall to the main bedroom—the room I shared with Cassian.

Sitting on the edge of the massive king-sized bed is the leather luggage he had a maid pack for me.

I stare at it. Rage replaces my grief. I want nothing from him. I unzip the leather luggage and grab handfuls of the expensive clothes inside. Silk dresses, cashmere sweaters, lace lingerie. I march to the large window, throw the sash open, and hurl the clothes into the bushes below. Next go the designer heels. They clatter against the stone pathway outside. I grab the velvet jewelry boxes sitting on the vanity. Necklaces, diamond studs, tennis bracelets. I throw them all out into the dirt.

I don't give a rat's ass about his money. I don't want his bought affection. I want my freedom.

I turn back to my own duffel bag. I start searching the drawers for my essentials when the creak of the bedroom door startles me. I spin around.

Sabrina stands in the doorway. A vicious smirk paints her lips. She steps into the room, trailing her fingers over the mahogany dresser.

My muscles lock. It takes three deep breaths to keep my hands from wrapping around her throat.

“You must be upset,” she says quietly.

Growing up, we were polar opposites. We had nothing in common. I was the quiet bookworm; she was the social butterfly. But she was my sister. Blood was supposed to mean something. I would never betray her.

“But I just wanted to get some things off my chest before you go,” she adds. She steps further into the room, her chest puffed out.

I ignore her. I turn back to my duffel, shoving my passport, driver's license, and birth certificate into the side pocket.

“I love Cassian,” she says, her tone hardening when I don't react. “I always have. And you took him from me the day I introduced you two. He was supposed to be with me, and you just waltzed right in and took him!” Her voice rises into a sharp snap. “So I’m not sorry. It’s about time you knew that he and I love each other.”

I pause. My hands hover over the zipper of my bag. I want to laugh at her delusion.

“We’re getting married in a week,” she continues, crossing her arms. “Just so we’re clear, you’re not invited. It’s my turn to be loved. You have always been the center of attention. The pride and joy of our family. The one everyone wanted to love, and I’ve always just been second best!”

Fake tears line her eyes, but her smile remains cruel. “Well, not anymore! I win! I get the prince and you get nothing!”

I stare at her. She is delusional. Sabrina was the Prom Queen. She was the one everyone adored, the prettier sister, the life of every party. I was the invisible one hiding in the library. Her twisted jealousy makes no sense.

“So there it is. That’s all I have to say to you,” she sighs, a look of profound relief washing over her face.

A dark, boiling rage thrums in my veins. My sister is a selfish, twisted bitch. I nod my head, turning back to my bag.

“Okay,” I whisper. I tighten my grip on the wedding rings still resting in my palm. “Well then, I best get going. I wouldn’t want to get in your way any longer.”

My deadpan reaction stunts her momentum. Her smile falters.

“Seriously?” she asks, her eyes narrowing. “You’re just going to walk away without a fight?”

“Why would I fight you for him?” I shrug. I zip my bag with sharp finality and sling the strap over my shoulder. I walk toward the door, closing the gap between us. A primal urge to hurt her takes over my mind.

I stop inches from her face. I lean in.

“But just remember this the next time he sucks on your tits while you ride him,” I say, watching her eyes widen in shock. “He left me because I couldn’t give him a pup. Not because he loved you more.”

I grab the heavy bottle of aspirin sitting on the nightstand. I turn back to her, holding her gaze.

"And if he could leave me, his fated mate, so easily... how quickly do you think he'll drop you when he gets bored of you too?"

Her face flushes bright red. She opens her mouth to scream, but I don't give her the chance. I slam the heavy plastic bottle of aspirin hard against her chest. She stumbles back a step, grabbing her sternum.

"You'll be needing these soon," I smile, batting my eyelashes at her. "For the headaches to come. Just be glad we don’t have another sister."

I step out of the room and slam the door in her face. I can hear her shrieking muffled curses through the wood.

I march down the hallway, keeping my chin high. As I round the corner toward the grand staircase, I slam right into a solid chest.

Cassian.

His hand shoots out, gripping my arm with bruising force. His cold eyes glare down at me.

“What did you say to my future wife?” he snarls.

I brace myself for the electric shock of his touch, the familiar hum of the mate bond. But there is nothing. The sparks are dead. His grip feels like the touch of a stranger. Only a hollow void remains between us.

The rings in my palm feel heavy. I harden my jaw, gather my strength, and yank my arm out of his grasp.

"Here," I say, slapping the expensive wedding bands directly onto his chest. The metal clinks against his shirt buttons before falling to the carpet. "You can pawn them off for all I care."

“Keep them!” Sabrina’s voice echoes down the hall as she jogs to catch up. She sneers at me, linking her arm back through Cassian's. "You'll need the money more than we do. Maybe buy yourself a vibrator. You seem a little tense."

I bite my tongue. I refuse to give them the satisfaction of a reaction.

Cassian doesn't even look down at the rings. He looks past me, focusing on Sabrina, a sickening smirk returning to his face. He ignores my existence, shifting his body to block me from her.

I turn and head down the stairs. My boots hit the wooden steps with heavy, rhythmic thuds.

I reach the grand foyer. The heavy front doors stand between me and freedom. But Gamma Gideon stands in my path. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, his dark eyes clouded with guilt.

“Mar… I uh… I.. I…” he stammers, rubbing the back of his neck. He refuses to meet my eyes.

I straighten my spine. “I don’t need you to comfort me, Gid. There’s no need to pretend we’re friends anymore. You’re finally free of me. See ya.”

“I was never pretending, Luna—I mean, Mar,” he argues, stepping into my path. “I-I just… Iron Fang is my home. I couldn’t possibly leave it all behind.”

I tighten my grip on my duffel strap. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine on my own. I’m not your problem anymore.”

I step around him. He reaches out and grabs my wrist.

My body reacts on instinct. I twist my wrist free, pivot on my heel, and swing my arm. My palm connects with his cheek in a loud, echoing crack.

Gideon stumbles back, his hand flying to his face. He stares at me in shock.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did that hurt?" I ask dryly. "It's probably just all in your head."

“Mar… I-I—” he stutters.

“Save it,” I snap. I hold my hand up, cutting him off. “Thanks for being such a pal all these months. I’m so glad this gamma bond meant so much to you.”

I reach the heavy brass handle of the front door.

“Mar, look, at least let me escort you to wherever it is you’re staying,” he calls out, his voice pathetic. “I’d just like to make sure you’re safe.”

I glance over my shoulder. Where was this concern when my husband was fucking my sister?

“No thanks,” I reply. “I can manage on my own.”

I pull the door open and step out into the brisk afternoon air. I march down the driveway to the waiting taxi. I open the trunk, toss my duffel bag inside, and climb into the back seat.

“To the airport, please,” I tell the driver, handing him a thick stack of cash. “And not a word to anyone about where you took me.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nods, pocketing the money.

The tires crunch over the gravel as we pull away. I stare out the rear window. The massive stone structure of the Iron Fang Pack House shrinks into a small speck against the tree line. The icy numbness in my chest spreads, freezing over the last remnants of my grief.

I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone. I pop the side tray open, extract the small SIM card, and drop it onto the rubber floor mat. I press the heel of my boot over the tiny plastic chip and grind it into the floorboard. I hear it snap. Cassian and his trackers will never find me.

At the airport, I walk straight to the ticket counter. I pay cash for a one-way ticket to Wyoming. I don't know a single soul in the Midwest, but Iron Fang has no allies there. It is safe. I can lay low, change my name, and find a rogue doctor to help me with the birth.

I board the plane and find my window seat. The engines roar to life. The plane races down the runway and lifts into the clouds.

I watch the city shrink below me. I let out a long, slow breath. I move my hand down, resting my palm against my flat belly. I rub the soft fabric of my sweater in small, soothing circles.

“We’ll be okay, frijolito,” I murmur against the hum of the cabin. “We’ll be okay.”

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Two months later.

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***Cassian***

I lap my tongue over Sabrina’s cunt, plunging my face between her thighs. She cries out, her high-pitched moans bouncing off the soundproofed walls of my office. Her sweet juices coat my lips. I take two fingers and press them against her clit, rubbing in firm, circular motions.

Her thighs tremble against my cheeks.

“Oh Goddess, Cassian!” she gasps, rolling her hips upward, chasing the friction.

I keep my tongue working over her slick pussy folds until her voice turns hoarse. Her breath comes in jagged, ragged pants. The scent of her arousal fills the room, driving my own lust over the edge.

I pull back, grab her by the waist, and drag her down the edge of the leather sofa. I position her beneath me, unbuckle my pants, and free myself. I line up and ram my cock into her tight entry. The top disappears into the wet haven of her pussy with a loud slap of skin against skin.

She throws her head back, her mouth hanging open. I roll her hard nipples between my fingers, pinching the sensitive peaks as I rail into her. The friction builds fast. I watch her eyes glaze over, the ecstasy of a building orgasm taking over her features.

“Want to taste?” I purr. I reach down, dragging my fingers through the wetness between her legs, coating my skin in her sweet nectar.

She moans a breathless yes.

I push my slick fingers into her mouth. She sucks on them eagerly, her tongue swirling around my digits to clean off her own juices. I pump my fingers in and out of her mouth, mimicking the rhythm of my hips. My cock grows even harder as I finger fuck her mouth.

Her lips form a tight O. Her pussy walls clamp down around me, gripping my shaft like a vice. She explodes, her body shuddering violently around my cock. The tight spasms milk me over the edge, and I cum deep inside her with a low growl.

I pull out, chest heaving, and wipe the sweat from my brow.

It has been two months since Marcella left. Two glorious months of physical bliss. Sabrina is a goddess in the bedroom. She lives to please me, eager to satisfy my every carnal demand. We have been fucking nonstop since her Luna Ceremony.

Yet, the moment we step outside the bedroom, the reality of my choice sets in.

Sabrina is an airhead.

I pull my pants up and buckle my belt while Sabrina lays on the couch, catching her breath. I walk to my desk and pour a glass of bourbon.

Being a Luna requires strategy. It requires natural authority, intellect, and grace. Marcella had all of that. Even as a human, Marcella commanded a room. She handled the territory disputes, managed the pack's finances, and commanded respect from the most hardened warriors.

Sabrina spends her days frivolously planning lavish, useless parties. She obsesses over flower arrangements and seating charts. When I need her to review patrol routes or manage the elders, she stares at me blankly and suggests hosting a dinner party instead.

My inner wolf, Brutus, paces restlessly in the back of my mind. He misses Marcella. The pack misses their former Luna. I catch the way the Omegas whisper in the halls, the way the warriors roll their eyes when Sabrina tries to give an order.

But I push the guilt away. I had no choice.

I need an heir. I am twenty-six years old. Most Alphas have a pup by now. Marcella was infertile. I loved her, I kept her despite her human status, but she failed her one essential duty. I resented her for it. Sabrina promised me an heir. That justifies everything.

My afternoon musings shatter when a mind-link hits my brain.

*“Alpha,”* Beta Soren’s voice echoes in my head. *“Dr. Greta is here to see you. She says it’s urgent.”*

I frown. Dr. Greta rarely visits the pack house. If she demands an urgent meeting, it is serious.

*“Send her in,”* I link back.

I turn to Sabrina. I kiss her swollen lips and tell her to head up to our room. Once she wraps herself in a robe and leaves, I straighten my shirt and sit behind my heavy mahogany desk.

A moment later, Dr. Greta steps into the office. She looks nervous. She clutches a small cardboard box to her chest, her knuckles white.

“Dr. Greta,” I say, leaning back in my leather chair. “What can I do for you?”

“Hello, Alpha. I apologize for interrupting your day,” she replies. She sets the small box on the edge of my desk, tapping her fingers against the cardboard. “I just wasn’t sure what else to do.”

I raise an eyebrow, waiting for her to get to the point.

“I-I don’t know the circumstances of your divorce, nor is it any of my business,” she begins, offering a tight, uncomfortable smile. “But I know in her condition, Marcella’s health is still important to you.”

I sit forward. I narrow my eyes.

“Care to elaborate, Doc? I’m not sure what you mean. Did Marcella contract an illness before she left?”

Dr. Greta blinks. Confusion washes over her face.

“Why, the pregnancy, Alpha,” she answers, speaking slowly as if I am dense. “I know you’re divorced, but surely you care about the health of your firstborn.” She slides the box closer to me. “These are the prenatal vitamins and medications she will need to carry this baby to term. She’s a human carrying an Alpha pup inside her. She needs to prepare her body for the birth if she wants to survive the strain. I wanted to mail them to her, but I realized I didn’t have a forwarding address.”

I stare at the box. I let out a sharp, mocking scoff.

“Pregnancy?” I shake my head. “Doc, you seem to have your patients mixed up. Marcella can’t have kids. She is infertile.”

Dr. Greta’s brow furrows deeper. “What do you mean she’s infertile, Alpha?”

Annoyance flares in my chest. I don't have time for this incompetence.

“She showed me the fertility tests herself,” I state, my voice dropping to a low, dangerous octave. “The results clearly stated she is infertile and incapable of conceiving. That is exactly why we divorced.”

Dr. Greta shakes her head. She stands her ground, her posture stiffening.

“I administered the test myself, Alpha,” she insists, reaching into the pocket of her white coat. “I can assure you, Marcella is anything but infertile. She is approximately three months along now.”

She pulls out a folded piece of medical paper and a glossy black-and-white photograph. She places them flat on my desk, right in front of me.

“This is the result of the test I gave her two months ago.”

I look down.

I stare at the medical document. I read the bold print. *Patient: Marcella Vega. HCG Levels: Positive.*

My hands shake as I pick up the glossy ultrasound photo. I stare at the small, peanut-shaped blur resting inside the black void of a womb.

I read the date. I read her name again. Three times.

The world crashes down around me. The air rushes out of my lungs.

Marcella is pregnant. She is carrying my child.

She lied to me. She handed me fake fertility documents to escape.

*You fucking idiot!*

Brutus roars in the deep recesses of my mind. The sheer force of my wolf's fury slams into my skull like a freight train. My vision blurs with red.

*I told you to be patient!* Brutus screams, his claws tearing at my consciousness, fighting for control of our body. *But you just had to go stick your dick in that stupid cunt of a sister! Now look at what you’ve done! You sent our Mouse away to birth our pup alone!*

I grip the edges of my desk. My knuckles turn white. I can't argue with him. I humiliated Marcella. I paraded her sister in front of her. I threw her away when she was doing exactly what I wanted. She was growing my heir.

My mate. My pup. Gone. Out there, alone and unprotected.

*Find her!* Brutus snarls, his bloodlust rising to an apocalyptic level. *Find her and bring her home to me, or so help me Moon Goddess, I will destroy everything you’ve built! I will tear this pack apart! I will kill everyone, starting with that useless bitch you call a wife now!*

The threat vibrates through my bones. Brutus means it. He will rip Sabrina’s throat out the moment he takes control. He will burn Iron Fang to the ground.

Panic suffocates me. I squeeze my eyes shut, gritting my teeth as I force my will against my wolf. I shove Brutus down, locking him behind a mental cage just long enough to act.

I hit the intercom button on my desk.

“Soren. Gideon. Get in here. Now.”

Seconds later, the office door bursts open. Beta Soren and Gamma Gideon rush inside. They freeze when they see me. The murderous aura leaking from my body makes them stagger back. They stare at me in sheer terror.

I sit at my desk. My fists are clenched so tight my fingernails break the skin of my palms. I stare at the ultrasound photo.

“Find Marcella,” I command, trembling as I shove Brutus back into the recess of my mind. “Your next Alpha is coming.”