Without a Fight

Maddox

Maddox stood rooted in the center of his expansive office, his broad chest heaving with every ragged breath. Each pull of air felt like dragging crushed glass down his windpipe, a potent mix of blinding grief and raw fury tearing at his insides. He glared at the closed heavy oak door, his hands curling into tight fists at his sides. He wanted to storm out into the grand hallway, grab Genevieve by her slender shoulders, and shake her silly. He needed her to lose her iron control. He wanted her to scream at him, to hurl heavy bronze bookends across the room, or to pitch a furious, screaming fit over losing her prestigious position as his Mate and Luna. Real couples fought. They tore at each other, bleeding emotions onto the floor when things fell apart.

Instead, she had knelt on his rug, coldly issued her formal rejection, and walked away. She slipped out of his territory just as quietly as she had arrived eight years ago, rigidly following the strict, clinical terms of their mating alliance to the very letter. No tears blurred her vision. No desperate pleas left her lips. No rage fueled her departure. Just a polite, devastating exit that left him drowning in the sudden silence of the room.

Gamma Declan stood by the entryway, his hand dropping from the brass handle. He had just pulled the heavy oak door shut, the metal latch clicking into place with a finality that made Maddox’s stomach churn. Declan let out a low, heavy sigh, turning slowly to face his Alpha.

Maddox pivoted sharply, his heavy boots grinding into the plush Persian carpet. "What did you get from her? What does she feel, Declan?" he demanded, his voice tight and rough. Declan possessed the rare gift of aura reading; he knew the subtle emotional undercurrents of everyone he touched or observed.

Declan frowned, a distinct shadow of pity crossing his weathered features. "Not much. Pain from the severing," he replied evenly, his eyes losing focus for a fraction of a second as he analyzed the lingering emotional resonance he had just brushed against. "Which is to be expected."

Maddox knew that pain intimately. The severing had felt like a blazing branding iron pressed directly against his throat. When her intricate mating mark dissolved from his skin, the burning physical agony nearly forced him to his knees. He had seen the exact same raw torment twist Genevieve’s delicate features when she spoke the words.

"There was also relief," Declan continued, pacing slowly toward the large mahogany desk. "A profound sense of relief as she stood up from the floor. It mixed heavily with the physical pain, making it hard to parse clearly. But it was there, heavy and undeniable in her aura."

Maddox’s jaw clenched so hard his teeth groaned. He hated the thought of her feeling any measure of relief. Had she been relieved the physical torment was fading, or relieved to finally be rid of him forever? She had marched into his office without a hint of hesitation, ready to sever their bond the moment the clock ran out. She initiated the break.

"And sadness," Declan added softly, pausing his pacing. "A quiet, lingering sadness."

Maddox’s head snapped up. His heart hammered a frantic, desperate rhythm against his ribs. A scrap of reckless hope flared in the dark pit of his stomach. "But?" he pressed aggressively, closing the distance and stepping directly into Declan’s personal space. "Sadness about us? Tell me, Declan. If she regrets it, I’ll go out there right now and drag her back into this room. I’ll send the Goddess-Gifted girl packing back to her territory today if Genevieve wants to stay and fight for this." He was desperate for any scrap of reason, any flimsy excuse to chase her down the hall and refuse to let her leave. He hoped blindly that beneath her stoic mask, she was secretly grieving the loss of their intimate bond.

Declan shook his head. The movement was slow, deliberate, and soul-crushing. The pity in his Gamma’s eyes deepened, offering no comfort. "It’s not related to you, Maddox. I’m sorry."

The words struck Maddox like a physical blow to the sternum, knocking the wind from his lungs.

"She feels a quiet sadness about leaving the pack members behind," Declan explained, his tone gentle but unyielding. "She likes the people here. She always considered Obsidian Moon a better home than the bloodline she came from. The grief is for the community. Not for the marriage."

"So she hates me," Maddox muttered, running a rough hand over his face, feeling the cold sweat on his forehead. "For forcing her into a loveless mating alliance."

"It’s not hate." Declan let out another sigh, crossing his arms. "It’s indifference towards you, Maddox. Indifference."

Defeated and hollowed out by the agonizing realization that the woman he shared a bed with for eight years felt nothing for him, Maddox took a stumbling step back. The hollow ache in his chest expanded, devouring whatever oxygen remained in the room.

The air in the office suddenly felt too thick, suffocating him. A metallic tang hung heavy in the room—the lingering scent of Genevieve’s blood from the severed bond, mixed with her signature subtle fragrance. It clawed at Maddox’s throat, a visceral reminder of what he had just lost. He needed to escape it before it drove him mad.

Without another word to Declan, Maddox turned and retreated from the office. He navigated the wide, polished corridors, his mind a turbulent mess of deep regret and stinging rejection. He pushed through the heavy double doors into the pack dining room, seeking any distraction. The midday sunlight streamed through the tall arched windows, casting long beams across the wooden tables where various pack members sat eating their lunch.

In the far corner, Delta Brant sat rigidly in a heavy dining chair, acting as a physical barricade. Behind him sat Vivienne.

The moment Maddox stepped into the bustling room, Brant’s voice echoed in his mind through the private pack link. *‘Alpha. She tried twice to physically force her way past me. Wanted to barge right into your office.’*

Maddox paused near the entrance, his eyes narrowing as he focused on the pair. *‘Did you have to use force to stop her?’*

*‘I had to grab her arm and order her back to her seat,’* Brant reported, his mental tone clipped with clear disapproval. *‘She swatted me away. Slashed her hand at me, told me not to touch her, and arrogantly announced to the kitchen staff that she was the new Luna.’*

A sharp spike of irritation pierced through the heavy shroud of Maddox’s grief. He frowned deeply, his boots thudding against the hardwood floor as he approached their table. She wasn't the Luna. He hadn't Claimed her. He hadn't Marked her. He hadn't even shared a bed with her yet. The sheer presumption of her parading around his packhouse, snapping at his elite warriors, and claiming a title she hadn't earned grated on his raw nerves.

He stopped a few feet away, studying his new Goddess-Gifted Mate. The biological pull of the mate bond hummed faintly beneath his skin, a primal whisper urging him to close the distance, to breathe in her scent, to touch her skin. Yet, looking across the room at the woman destined for him by the moon, Maddox felt zero desire to bridge that gap. The spark of pure lust he expected to feel was buried under heavy layers of exhaustion and annoyance.

Deep within his soul, Kael, his inner wolf, had receded to the darkest, quietest corner of his mind. Kael was curled up in a ball of misery, mourning in silence. The massive beast was grieving the eight years they had shared with Genevieve. Even if they never shared a true destined bond, Kael had grown accustomed to her gentle presence, finding comfort in her steady heartbeat during the dark nights. Now, that comforting presence was gone, ripped away, leaving a gaping wound in his spirit. Kael refused to look through Maddox’s eyes at the new female.

Vivienne was nothing like his former mate. Genevieve had always been soft-spoken, diplomatic, bringing a calming aura to the most chaotic pack meetings. She wore muted tones, moved with deliberate grace, and always thought before she spoke. Vivienne, on the other hand, was sharp edges and impatient energy. She vibrated with constant annoyance. Her posture was tense, her movements jerky and demanding. They possessed nothing in common.

As Maddox stopped in front of the table, Vivienne’s sharp, predatory gaze immediately locked onto his neck. Her eyes zeroed in on the bare expanse of skin right over his pulse point—the exact spot where his mating mark to Genevieve used to reside just minutes ago. The intricate scar was gone, leaving only flushed skin behind.

"About bloody time, you got rid of her," Vivienne grated out, her voice dripping with venom. She didn't bother lowering her tone, indifferent to the surrounding pack members who paused their meals to listen.

Maddox stiffened. He glanced down at the heavy silver watch circling his left wrist. It had been exactly nine minutes. Nine minutes since he had accepted Genevieve’s rejection. Nine brief, agonizing minutes since his reality had shattered. Vivienne clearly found this minor delay unacceptable. She expected him to sever an eight-year marriage the second she demanded it.

To Maddox, nine minutes felt way too short. It was far too brief a time to erase an eight-year physical and emotional bond. If he had his way, he wouldn't have accepted the rejection at all. The only reason he had spoken the formal words of acceptance was to spare Genevieve from the excruciating physical agony of the severing process. When she issued the rejection, the magic of the broken bond tore at her flesh, bringing her to her knees in front of him. Had she not been in such visible, agonizing pain, he would have stubbornly dragged the rejection out. He would have refused her for hours, forced her to stay locked in that office, just to provoke her into a real, passionate argument. He wanted her to fight for her place by his side.

"When are you going to announce me?" Vivienne demanded loudly, harshly interrupting his internal spiral of grief. She pushed herself up from the table, closing the distance between them with demanding strides. "You should do that right away, so the pack knows who I am."

Maddox’s jaw tightened until his teeth ached. He stared down at her, the irritation boiling over into simmering anger. "After Genevieve has left the pack," he replied coldly, his voice a low, warning rumble. He was reminding her of the strict contractual rules surrounding the dissolution of his mating alliance. The transition of power had to be orderly. The alliance terms dictated a grace period. Genevieve had to be gone, her presence fully removed from the territory, before a new Luna could be named.

Vivienne scoffed, rolling her eyes in blatant disrespect. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest, jutting her chin out in defiance. "I don’t care about those rules, and you’ve rejected her now." She glared up at him expectantly, her eyes flashing with pure entitlement. "I’m your priority. Or should be."