Chapter 4

The physical pain of a fracturing mate bond was unlike anything I had ever experienced. It wasn't a dull ache; it was a living, clawing entity inside my chest that ripped at my lungs with every ragged breath I took. Every step I took away from VIP Room 3 felt like dragging my body through shards of broken glass. The invisible iron cord wrapping my heart to Roman's was stretching, pulling, and threatening to snap entirely, threatening to take my sanity with it.

Behind me, the door scraped open completely against the doorframe.

"Allie! *Allie, stop!*"

Roman’s roar shattered the quiet luxury of the corridor. It wasn't the voice of my childhood best friend. It was the thunderous, suffocating command of a future Alpha, vibrating with enough raw, dominant power to make the walls tremble. The sound struck my spine, a biological trigger demanding that I halt, that I submit, that I turn back to my protector.

But he wasn't my protector. He was the boy who had just destroyed me.

I ignored the command, my stubbornness the only thing keeping my legs moving as I bolted down the hallway. Tears blurred my vision into a smear of neon green and purple light. The diamond wolf bracelet on my left wrist felt like a handcuff, heavy and agonizingly cold against my pulsing skin.

I burst through the heavy double doors and stumbled back onto the main floor of the Bio Club.

The contrast was suffocating. The silver and blue confetti was still gently drifting down through the air, glittering mockingly under the strobe lights. The techno bass was still dropping with a deafening, celebratory rhythm. Humans and wolves alike were still laughing, drinking, and raising their glasses to a midnight that had completely ruined me.

"Allie! There you are!" Sarah’s voice sliced through the noise. She was jogging toward me from the center of the dance floor, her face lit up with a grin that instantly faltered the moment she got close enough to see my face. "Oh my god, Al, what's wrong? Why are you crying?"

"Nothing," I slurred, the emotional whiplash making my head spin. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine, you look like you've seen a ghost—"

"I need a drink, Sarah," I snapped, my voice cracking under the weight of a sob I desperately swallowed down.

I didn't wait for her response. I pushed past her, navigating the crowded room blindly. If my brother Zane saw me like this, if he caught the scent of raw, bleeding trauma and distress rolling off my newly matured wolf, he would kill Roman. They were teammate brothers, but Zane was my blood. He would tear this club apart, and right now, I couldn't handle the violence. I couldn't handle the questions. I just wanted the pain in my chest to stop.

I reached the main marble bar, my hands shaking so violently I almost knocked over a display of crystal glasses. The bartender was busy at the other end, so I didn't bother waiting. I reached over the smooth counter, gripped the neck of a full bottle of top-shelf vodka, and hauled it over.

I didn't ask for a glass. I ripped the cap off with my teeth, spit it onto the floor, and tipped the heavy glass bottle straight back.

The alcohol hit my throat like liquid fire, scorching its way down into my stomach. I choked, gasping for air as tears leaked out of the corners of my eyes, but I didn't stop. I tipped it back a second time, drinking until the back of my throat burned, desperately praying the alcohol would numb the agonizing pull of the bond. I wanted to be numb. I wanted to be bottle-drunk and oblivious.

"Whoa, birthday girl! Going a little hard, aren't we?"

A heavy, broad hand clapped down on my bare shoulder. I flinched, spinning around with the bottle still gripped in my hand, my vision swimming dangerously.

Standing in front of me was Miller, one of Roman and Zane's hockey teammates. He was a towering defenseman, blond, handsome in a rugged, jaw-heavy way, and currently completely wasted. He had a sloppy, appreciative grin on his face as his eyes scanned my midnight-blue dress.

"Hey, you're Greyson's girl, right?" Miller chuckled, leaning against the bar. "Where is the big guy anyway? He's gonna have my head if I'm talking to you."

"I am nobody's girl," I choked out, a sudden, dark wave of reckless anger replacing the suffocating sadness in my chest.

If Roman could hook up with random brunettes in private rooms at the exact moment I turned twenty-one, then I didn't owe him anything. I didn't owe him my tears, I didn't owe him my loyalty, and I certainly didn't owe him my submission.

"Dance with me, Miller," I demanded, stepping into his space and gripping the front of his casual button-down shirt.

Miller blinked, completely caught off guard, a flash of surprise crossing his features before the alcohol in his system dulled his instincts. "Uh... I mean, sure. But seriously, if Rome sees us—"

"I don't care about Roman," I said sharply, dragging him toward the center of the dance floor.

I threw myself into the music. The vodka was already hitting my bloodstream, making the world tilt and blur in a chaotic vortex of flashing strobe lights and pounding bass. I danced frantically, moving my hips against Miller, letting him wrap his large hands around my waist. Within minutes, two more teammates—players who had been drinking with Roman earlier—joined in, laughing and forming a protective, rowdy circle around me.

I was a total mess. My long dark hair was wild, sticking to the sweat on my neck, my makeup was ruined from the tears, and I kept tipping the vodka bottle back every few minutes. I danced harder, trying to drown out the voice of my inner wolf, who was curled into a wounded ball inside my mind, weeping at the betrayal. I had never envisioned meeting my mate like this. I had spent years wondering who he would be, imagining a moment of pure, unconditional devotion. I never imagined finding him on a couch, his lips on another girl.

Suddenly, the heavy techno beat seemed to fade into a dull hum.

The temperature on the dance floor dropped instantly, the air turning thick and freezing cold. A massive, suffocating wave of pure, unadulterated Alpha dominance crashed over the entire room, so heavy and oppressive that the human patrons nearby stopped dancing, stumbling back in instinctive, subconscious terror.

The circle of hockey players around me parted like the Red Sea.

Roman was standing there.

He looked completely unhinged. His sharp black suit jacket was gone, and his white button-down shirt was completely open, exposing the hard, broad planes of his muscular chest. His chest was heaving, his face contorted into an expression of raw, terrifying fury. But it was his eyes that made my breath catch. They weren't blue anymore. They were entirely black, the pupils fully dilated as his midnight wolf pushed to the surface, demanding control.

His lethal gaze swept over his teammates, and a low, guttural growl vibrated out of his throat—a sound so primal, so dominant, that Miller immediately raised his hands and took three steps back.

"Get the fuck away from her," Roman snarled, his voice vibrating with a deadly, quiet promise.

"Rome, man, chill, we were just dancing with the birthday girl—" Miller tried to appease him, his own beta instincts telling him to back down from the apex predator in front of him.

"Leave. *Now.* All of you," Roman commanded, the Alpha power in his voice absolute.

The guys didn't hesitate. They fled into the crowd, disappearing toward the bars and leaving me standing entirely alone in the center of the flashing lights, defensively clutching my half-empty bottle of vodka.

"Allie," Roman breathed. The moment the guys were gone, the terrifying fury in his expression cracked, instantly shifting into a look of heartbreaking, desperate agony. He took a predatory step toward me, his hands reaching out. "Please. Just let me talk to you. Let me explain."

"Don't touch me!" I slurred, the alcohol making my tongue heavy as I stumbled backward. My heel slipped on some spilled champagne, and I staggered, but I kept the bottle raised between us like a weapon. "Go back to your room, Roman. Go back to your girl."

"She isn't my girl! I don't even know her fucking name!" he shouted, his voice cracking with an intense, agonized frustration that seemed to rip straight from his chest. He looked like a man who wanted to drop to his knees and beg. "The call from the front office was a setup, Al. It was my dad. He’s pushing the pack alliance with the Vance pack, trying to force my hand. I was angry, I drank too much, she followed me into the room, and I... I made a mistake. A stupid, fucking mistake. I swear to you on my wolf's life, I didn't feel the bond until the exact second you opened that door!"

"But you knew tonight was my birthday," I whispered, the anger suddenly draining out of me, leaving behind a cold, hollow void that felt a thousand times worse. The tears spilled over my lashes again, hot and heavy. "You told me to focus on you in the limo. You told me we would fight the universe. And you couldn't even wait until midnight."

The weight of the alcohol, the trauma, and the exhaustion suddenly crushed down on me all at once. My knees completely gave out, and the room spun sideways.

Before my body could hit the cold concrete floor, Roman moved with supernatural speed.

A pair of massive, warm arms caught me around the waist, lifting me effortlessly against his chest. The contact was explosive. The moment his bare skin pressed against mine through the low back of my dress, a shock of electric warmth surged through the bond, trying to soothe my crying wolf.

"Let me go!" I thrashed against him, weakly pounding my fists into his broad, hard shoulders, but it was like hitting a brick wall. He was too strong, too solid. "Put me down, Roman! I want my brother! Call Zane..."

"Zane is gone, Allie. I told him to take Alexa and go back to his place an hour ago," Roman muttered into my hair. His voice was rough, thick with a possessive, unyielding finality as he carried me past the staring eyes of the remaining staff and out through the back exit of the club.

The freezing Chicago night air hit my bare skin, making me shiver violently, but Roman only pulled me tighter against his body. A private, black SUV was already idling in the alleyway, the rear door held open by a tight-jawed security guard.

"You're staying with me tonight," Roman said, his chest vibrating against mine as he slid into the back seat, keeping me locked firmly on his lap as the door slammed shut, cutting off the world. "I can't be away from you right now, Al. My wolf is going feral. If I let you out of my sight, I will tear this city apart."

I tried to pull away, to press my back against the opposite door, but Roman’s large hands anchored around my waist, pulling my hips flush against his thighs. He buried his face in the crook of my neck, inhaling deeply, his entire massive frame trembling as he tried to imprint my matured scent into his soul.

I was too drunk, too broken to fight him anymore. As the SUV sped off into the dark city night, I let my eyes close, weeping silently into the shoulder of the boy I loved, and the mate I hated.