2: Broken

Leni's POV

“Don’t you dare!” I muttered, my chest heaving as I took a desperate step backward.

Wesley didn’t even blink. His face remained emotionless, devoid of a single trace of the softness he used to show me.

“I, Beta Wesley of Rainstone Pack, reject you, Leni Ashbrook, as my mate,” he said, his voice echoing off the cold walls of the hospital room.

The words felt like they smashed right through my chest. A violent spasm of agony rushed through my veins, making my knees grow weak. I held onto the wall to keep myself upright.

“Wesley...” I choked out, tears blinding me. “How could you do this?”

“What else should I have done?” Wesley said, the sound of his voice echoed, lingering in the air for longer than necessary.

 “Being with you has brought me nothing but bad luck, Leni. Year after year, I had hope that your wolf would finally wake up, but you’re just broken.” 

“Do you have any idea how exhausting it has been, enduring the whispers behind my back? The laughs?”

“Now that you’re away from me, no one will ever mock me as the Beta with a wolfless mate again.”

Every word felt like he was twisting a knife in my stomach. 

“Now, we can be together without you seeming like the cheating mate.”Mirabel said from behind him, her hands sliding from the space in between his arm to his chest. 

I could barely breathe. 

The room was spinning, suffocating me.

Without another word, I turned on my heel and bolted out the door, running blindly down the quiet hallway, down the elevator, and back out into the freezing night air.

I don't even remember driving away from the hospital. The next thing I knew, I was sitting at a dimly lit bar counter, staring down at an empty glass. My eyes were burning, my throat felt sore, and my head was hammering from the alcohol I had spent the last hour downing.

“Excuse me, ma’am?”

I blinked, slowly lifting my head to look at the young waiter wiping down the counter in front of me.

“We’re closing up for the night,” he said gently, a sympathetic look on his face as he looked down at my disheveled hair and tear-stained face. “You’ll have to head out.”

“Can’t I just stay here?” I rasped out, clutching my empty glass like a lifeline. “Please... I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

It was the painful truth. I had been living with Wesley in his Pack house apartment for the past three years. 

And my best friend, Maya. She's been out of town for the past two weeks. She said she would be returning this week, or maybe next I can't even remember. 

So basically, I had no home to go back to tonight.

The waiter sighed, looking around the empty bar before looking back at me. “Look, I can’t let you sleep here on the booths. My manager would fire me. But there’s a hotel right inside this same compound, you can go book a room there for the night.”

I sat there for a second before nodding numbly. I pulled out my purse, paid my tab, and dragged my exhausted body through the connecting doors into the hotel building.

I paid for a room at the front desk, took the key card, and took the elevator up to the third floor. My legs felt so heavy. As I stumbled down the hallway toward my assigned room, I noticed a room service attendant walking out of an open doorway of one of the rooms. I looked up to see the room number. And then back at my key. 

I couldn’t even read clearly what was written on the door and on the key. 

All I knew is that it looked the same. 

I guess. 

She was trying to close the door.

“You can leave it open.” I said weakly, already moving towards the door.  

The attendant paused, scanning my wrecked makeup, rumpled clothes, and red eyes.

“Are you the escort?” the woman asked, disbelief in her tone. “I doubt Mr. Martinez would think twice before he kicks your sorry ass out.” Her tone sounded disgusted as she ran her eyes over me for a moment. 

I stopped in my tracks, my brain struggling to process her words through the haze of alcohol and exhaustion. 

Who the heck is Mr. Martinez? 

The question never made it out of my mouth, I was already heading in. I just wanted to collapse on the bed and cry myself to sleep. 

When I stepped into the dim, quiet room, I didn't bother turning on the lights. I didn't even take off my shoes. I just threw myself face-first onto the huge, soft bed and let the fresh wave of tears consume me until darkness finally pulled me in.

The next morning, I woke up to a pounding ache. My throat felt really weird and my body unnecessarily heavy.

I groaned, rolling over on the soft mattress and squinting against the bright sunlight streaming through the half opened curtains.

I rubbed my forehead, trying to piece together the nightmare of the previous night. 

“Fuck you, Wesley!” I muttered, tears tugging at the sides of my eyes. 

I had not been able to fully process what the room looked like, until now. 

I booked this place? I thought, my eyes scanning every detail of the part of the room my eyes first landed on.

“Is that how you sleep off on all your clients?”

A sharp, smooth voice cut through the silence of the room.

I gasped, sitting upright so quickly and pulling the duvet tightly against my chest. Sitting on the couch at the far end of the room was a man with long legs, dressed in a fitted suit, his dark hair styled a little messy.

He was watching me with a cold, piercing glare.

“Ah!” I screamed, my heart leaping into my throat. “There’s a man in my room! How did you get in here? What are you doing in my room?!” 

The man lifted a single eyebrow, his gaze full of arrogance and annoyance. “‘Your room?”

He let out a short, dry laugh that lacked any real humor.

“So, you're saying. You're not the slut I booked for last night?” 

My mouth fell open in disbelief, disgust, you name it.

“Me? Slut?” I pointed a hand to my chest. “You must be really crazy for ever thinking I'm a slut.” I slammed, my face burning as anger flared up in me. 

He stood up from the couch, taking a slow step closer as he looked me up and down with disdain. “Well, that certainly explains why you’re dressed so unattractively,” he said, gesturing to my outfit. 

I opened my mouth, then closed it, but no word made it out. 

“If you’re not an escort, then why on earth are you in my room?”

“I booked this room at the desk last night!” I snapped back, swinging my legs over the side of the bed to stand up.

I picked my key from the nightstand. “Here you go!” I said, shoving the key in his face.

“Room 99.” He said out loud, looking back up at me. “Seriously?”

“Since when did Room 96 and 99 share the same key?” He snapped. 

A wave of confusion hit. 

“What are you saying?” 

I tried to recall the events from last night, but I couldn't even remember using this key to unlock the room. 

My eyes suddenly landed on the labelled landline on the desk. Room 96 boldly written on it. 

My heart sank into my stomach. 

It actually ‘was’ his room.

Embarrassment washed over me, instantly replacing my anger. My cheeks burned furiously. Without saying another word, I quickly adjusted my wrinkled clothes, grabbed my purse from the floor, and bolted toward the door to make my escape.

In my frantic rush to get out, I slipped against the smooth wet floor. 

“Whoa...” I gasped, losing my balance completely.

Before I could crash onto the hard floor, a powerful arm shot out and caught me around the waist.

The impact sent my body slamming against his chest. 

For a moment, time seemed to freeze. 

I looked up, finding myself staring directly into a pair of bright green eyes. He held me effortlessly, his hand warm and firm against my side, and for a second too long, neither of us moved or said a word.

Then, before I could even regain my balance, he abruptly let go.

“Ah!” I shrieked, feeling gravity pull me down again. Panic flared up, and I instinctively reached out, my hands gripping his belt tightly to save myself.

With a low, annoyed huff, he reached out with one hand and grabbed me firmly by the collar of my dress, pulling me upright like a stray puppy.

Once I was safely on my feet, he released me completely, stepping back and smoothing down his jacket.

I didn't dare look him in the eye again. I clutched my purse, turned around, and ran out of the room as fast as my legs could carry me, my heart pounding heavily from the taunting image of him that wouldn't leave my head. 

An hour later, I pulled my battered, scratched-up car into the driveway of Wesley’s house. I just wanted to get my belongings and leave this place forever.

I unlocked the front door and stepped into the living room, only to freeze.

Wesley and Mirabel were walking in through the back door. Wesley was still wearing his bandage, walking stiffly, while Mirabel was practically attached to his side, resting her head on his shoulder.

My chest tightened for a bit. 

Mirabel’s eyes lit up with the moment she spotted me standing in the living room.

“Look who decided to show up,” Mirabel sneered, stepping away from Wesley and walking toward me. 

“Don’t tell me you’re here to beg Wesley to take you back, Leni, cause that’s not happening!” 

“He doesn't want you, hasn't he made it clear enough?” 

Something inside me snapped. 

The months of feeling pathetic, the humiliation of last night, the grief of losing my greatest opportunity and the man I thought loved me all in one night left me with pure rage. 

“Move, Mirabel.” I simply said. 

“And if I don't?” She folded her arms across her chest as she stared defiantly at me.

I ran out of patience and pushing her aside without even thinking twice about it. 

“Ahhh!” She let out a loud cry as she hit her side against the table. 

Wesley's eyes widened. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he snapped, struggling to get to her side. 

I didn't spare them another glance. I marched straight into the bedroom, pulled my suitcases out from the closet, and began frantically throwing my clothes, shoes, and personal items inside.

“Leni!” Wesley barked. “How dare you lay a finger on Mirabel?” 

“You need to apologize to her right now!”

I didn't stop, just kept stocking clothes into my bag.

Within minutes, I had packed everything I owned. I zipped the bags shut, grabbed the handles, and pulled them out into the living room.

Wesley was standing by the couch, helping the still sobbing Mirabel. His face was pale, his jaw clenched in anger as he looked at me. 

“You should be thankful I'm in this position, else you wouldn't dare…” 

“Oh please.” I dragged the words, alongside my bags. 

“Where do you even think you're headed?”

“To Marcus?” His words left me frozen. “You think I don't know that you two have been hooking up?” 

“What?” The words came out before I could stop them.

I stopped in front of him, holding my heavy suitcases. I didn't explain. I didn't tremble. I just looked at him, seeing him clearly for the very first time...a weak, selfish coward who had used my love until it no longer served him.

I leaned in slightly, looking him dead in the eye.

“You know what? Think whatever you want.” 

“I’ve been a simp for too long,” I said, my voice dropping low. “But not anymore.”

“And before I forget. I, Leni Ashbrook of Rainstone Pack, accept your rejection.” His eyes widened at the sound of that.