Chapter 3: The Five Stages of Grief

Chapter 3: The Five Stages of Grief

ALEX's POV

A couple hours have passed since we walked in, and still no sign of Micah. It took a lot of convincing, but I’d agreed to come with on one condition: we'd leave before midnight.

“Forty seven minutes past one” I mutter, glancing at the clock behind the bartender.

The hall's packed with even more guests now. It's pretty clear the night's far from over.

I've had to stifle my discomfort with every shot of alcohol that's trickled down my system.

“Another shot?”

“I'll pass” I reply. 

There's a thin line between a couple drinks and pure intoxication. One more shot would cross that line. 

…that's if I haven't even crossed it already. 

“Are you okay?” A gentle whisper from my companion the entire night reawakens my senses, and I answer with a slight nod. 

“I'm fine. Any idea where the bathroom is?” 

The bartender replies my weak gaze with a concerned expression, then points me in the direction opposite the swarming guests. 

Thank God.

However, before I can fully celebrate the small win, I accidently bump into someone, and the crisp shatter of glass pierces the graceful flow of strong music.

“I'm so sorry, I didn't see you there” I apologise before I even turn, but a mix of emotions slither through my tensing muscles when I glance to see…

“Micah?”

Cold and unimpressed, he stares a hole right through me.

“Where have you been the entire night? I've been looking all over.”

“You smell like shit” he barely acknowledges me, cleaning the spilled alcohol off his three-piece, and for a moment, I assume the tinge of intoxication made me hear that comment. There's no way he'd say something like that. I'm… barely drunk.

“Well, now that you're here, maybe we can go home r—”

“Don't. Touch me” he slaps my hand away, looking at me like a sore he’s too grossed out to poke at. “Get a hold of yourself. Embarrassing” he says, but it's ironic. 

Because his tone gets a little harder… and a lot louder. 

“I'm… I'm sorry for spilling your drink okay? I didn't see you behind me.”

“Well then I guess the mask’s hiding a lot more than just your vision today.”

This time, I hear him loud and clear. 

“What did you say?”

“You heard him” a different, but familiar voice answers from behind me. 

“Adriana?” I think, not even needing to turn.

I glance around the room, and notice that in merely moments, I've somehow managed to garner everyone's attention. 

I only have one option.

Cleaning myself up, and tilting my head down, I whisper to Micah before leaving the middle of the drama…

“I'll be outside. Please let's just—”

“And where the hell do you think you're going?”

I stop right on the spot, not just because of the chiseling tone that for the first time ever is aimed at me, but because he's holding me back… by the thick strap of my mask. “We're having a conversation. And when I talk, you listen!”

“Sir, I'm gonna have to ask you to let her be” the bartender's innocent voice returns at the worst time possible, and unfortunately for the 5’9, he's nothing but an ant in Micah's way. 

An ant that's managed to get his attention.

“Huh?”

Out the corner of my eyes, I notice him clench his fists, almost like he's forcing the confidence to bristle right through him. 

“I said—” 

Before the sentence slithers down, Micah knocks him out cold with a backhand too quick to dodge. 

“What’s with weaklings and trying to get on my nerves tonight?” He says, right before the bartender plummets to the ground unconscious. 

I could attempt to reach for him, but that would only make matters worse.

Whispers gradually grow, but the longer I listen, the more it starts sounding like they're not aimed in Micah's direction.

They're talking… about me.

“Oi, I asked you a question, didn't I?” His steel voice echoes in my direction. “You know…” his grip tightens, “...you're beginning to get on my nerves as well!”

In a swift display of brute strength, he doesn't just pull me back…

…he rips the mask right off, and before the lights can catch a glimpse of my face, I attempt to bury it in my hands.

“Come on, don't be shy!” The slimy voice behind me returns, doubling down on the drama. “Let the people see their hero” she grabs my wrist, antagonising my struggle while Micah holds me in place.

“...let the people see the Winter Wolf of Eastern Front!”

With Micah holding me down to nothing but weak shoves, she pries arms away, and almost concertedly, the lights hit me hard. 

Gasps travel through the crowd. 

My eyes are slammed shut, but my ears pick up every comment.

“What the hell?”

“Jesus Christ, what on earth is that?”

“Did someone burn her alive?”

With every comment, my body weakens and my strength runs dry. 

When Adriana and Micah finally decide they've had their fill, they let go and I plummet to the ground. 

“Did you really think I wouldn't find out?” Micah says, loud enough for everyone to hear. “The mask? The lies? The truth behind everything web you've spun for almost ten years?” He rhetorically asks. “You're no warrior. You're barely even a shadow.”

He towers over me, relentless until the final blow.

“Tell them. Go ahead and tell everyone that you're not even the real heir to the Moon Blood Pack.”

Shock. This time, too clear to unhear. 

“You just wanted to use me… the perfect shield to avoid the truth! Well I'm done being that shield.”

Use him? None of what he's saying is making any sense, but no one cares. Not now when when they're all wrapped around his finger.

The tension splits in two at the sharp clash of metal against marble, and my gaze drops to his ring.

Our ring.

Our engagement ring laying on the ground in front of me.

“I, Micah Bourne, reject you as my mate!” 

The pain is swift and instant, searing my soul in half before I can utter a word. Like a blunt blade's been pierced right through me, my body responds to the torn mate bond, howling in grief and baptized in weakness before my senses dull.

In the midst of all this, I bite my tongue and clench my fists, forcing myself to show absolutely nothing. No pain, or anguish, or agony. I just kneel, hurting beyond measure but revealing none of it. 

When I finally find the strength to raise my gaze, Adriana’s standing right beside him.

If it didn't make any sense before, the last piece of the puzzle just clicked into place. 

She crouches, making sure she's looking me dead in the eyes. 

“Hurts doesn't it? When the one person you trusted is the same person that ends your life in moments”

She grabs me by the face, not caring if she's holding a sore or her nails tearing into an open wound. 

“I told you. You'd pay for what y—”

“Didn't I tell you before… to get your fucking hands off me!”

The suddenness of my response catches her off guard. I reach for her with the intent of grabbing her by the throat, but she stumbles back and falls on Micah instead.

The discomfort whistling through the ground becomes even more intense, yet not a single one of them dares to utter a word…

…not while I persevere, forcing my figure back up to my feet.

“Be my shield? End my life? Pay for what I did?” I rise to my feet. “You overrate yourself.”

Fixing my gaze, I glance at Micah and notice the confusion in his shifty eyes. 

“I accept your rejection.”