I Lost My Mind After His Betrayal

"No… This can't be happening…" I murmured.

I snatched the phone from the man's hand, wishing I could dive straight into the screen to see for myself.

My fingers were shaking, and my wolf let out a guttural snarl.

How was this possible?

There wouldn't be such coincidences in this world.

But the footage didn't lie. The bare-chested man on the screen, muscles taut and back covered in old scars, was Reynolds Mitchell.

We belonged to the same pack and had grown up together. After all these years, there was no way I could misidentify my own mate.

Especially since our marking ceremony was scheduled for next month.

At this thought, my eyes welled up, and a cold, hollow ache settled in my chest.

Reynolds had betrayed me.

"Bit of an overreaction, don't you think? First time seeing a show like this?"

The handsome man beside me sneered. Resting his chin in his hand, he watched me like this was some kind of entertaining spectacle.

He wasn't entirely wrong.

This was certainly the first time I'd ever seen Reynolds from this perspective.

On the screen, he was kneeling before a pair of legs clad in black silk stockings with a silver collar fastened around his neck.

My head spun.

He knew exactly what that silver meant for a werewolf, yet he wore it willingly just to please that woman.

The sound of her heavy breathing echoed through the speakers.

My stomach roiled, and I vomited. I ended up puking right onto the man's lap.

The train car went dead silent for a heartbeat.

The next second, the man cursed, "Damn it!"

He leapt up, clutching his nose as he bolted toward the restroom.

He emerged a few minutes later with damp trousers and a look that suggested he was contemplating murder.

I could see the cold fury in his eyes, but I didn't care.

The train was pulling into the station. I needed to find Reynolds. I needed answers.

No, scratch that. I didn't want to talk. I wanted to claw his face off and tear him apart piece by piece.

I turned to the man. "Where's your house? Take me there."

He looked at me with a frown. "What for? The video wasn't enough? You want to catch the live performance?"

"Don't you?"

He studied me for a few seconds, suspicious. "Of course, I do. But what's it to you?"

I bit my lip so hard it hurt, but tears still streamed down my face. I wiped at them, only making it worse.

The teasing in his expression faded. As he stared at me, realization dawned. "Wait… Is that guy your boyfriend?"

I sniffled, nodding. "Yes, he's my boyfriend. The one I'm marking next month."

He drew in a sharp breath.

After a pause, he muttered, "Uh… Sorry about that."

"Don't worry about it."

I grabbed my bag and stood. "We're both victims here. No one's pointing fingers."

I looked him dead in the eye. "You coming? Let's catch them in the act."

He froze, then a spark lit in his eyes. "Yeah. Let's go now."