The Morning I Chose Myself

Sage’s POV

I woke to softness.

Not the thin mattress I was used to. Not the sheets that always smelled faintly of dust and neglect. This was something else—plush, warm.

For a moment, I didn’t open my eyes. I just enjoyed the calmness. My head still ached, but not the brutal pounding from the night before. 

Then awareness crept in.This room didn’t smell like home.

It didn’t smell like the pack house either.

The air was clean, expensive and calm.

My eyes opened slowly.

The ceiling above me was wrong.

It was too high and too smooth. Painted in a soft cream color that looked deliberate, chosen. Not ignored like what I had back in the pack house. 

My heart skipped as I pushed myself up and stared around the room.

Nothing here belonged to me.

The furniture was elegant, the curtains heavy. The bed beneath me was far too luxurious for someone who lived in the shadows of a pack house.

Memories began to stitch itself together, but one face remained dominant in my mind. 

I can’t believe I still don’t know his name. But at least, I was finally able to see his full features when we got to the hotel, the warm lights shining directly on him. 

He had a smooth skin like that of someone born into luxury. But the tattoo on his left hand screamed danger. His face looked tough, the scar under his eyes made him look even more scary. But what was intriguing was how that scary man with a sharp jawline still looked so handsome. His eyes were pure gold, nothing like this world had ever known. I scanned every single inch of his face as he spoke to the receptionist, every inch including his kissable love shaped lips. 

My chest tightened at the thought of his lips on mine.

Heat rushed through me so suddenly I sucked in a breath.

Why did my skin feel so warm?

A knock broke the moment.

“Room service.”

I flinched, my pulse racing. When I stood, dizziness washed over me, forcing me to steady myself before walking to the door. 

A woman smiled politely at me, holding a tray. “Good morning, ma’am. How was your night?”

I nodded, my throat tight.

“Where is he?” I asked before I could stop myself.

“The gentleman who brought you?” she clarified.

“Yes.”

“He left very early this morning.” Something sharp twisted in my chest before I could reason it away. “He asked me to give you these.”

She handed me the tray. In it was money and a dress.

Red, elegant and beautiful in a way I wasn’t used to.

I took them silently, my fingers brushing the fabric. Cyrus had never given me anything like this before.

Not once.

He never even cared enough to do anything nice for me. 

The realization cracked something inside me that I didn’t know was still holding together.

As the woman turned to leave, I called out, “Please wait. Do you know his name? Or… a number? Anything?”

She shook her head apologetically. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I can’t help with that.”

I nodded, disappointment settling heavily in my chest.

Inside the room, I changed slowly, while pondering on why this stranger had stood up for me back there. 

Other than my mother, no one else in this pack ever stood up for me. The feeling of being cared for suddenly felt strange to me.

Despite the conflict in my mind, I didn’t fail to notice how perfectly the dress fits. 

How did a stranger know my size in one night, when my mate of five years never bothered to learn it?

I looked back at the tray. Close to the stack of money. There was a note. One I had somehow not noticed before. 

 “This should be enough to get you back home safely.” That was it, short and precise. 

A stack of cash? Just to return home? 

For a moment there I considered running away to somewhere safe, with the money that this handsome stranger had given me. But

I had money and I had a chance. But then I thought of my mother.

She would be alone, vulnerable and still trapped in that palace.

Cyrus would punish her for my escape. I knew him well enough. 

So I dressed, gathered my belongings, and headed back to the packhouse.

The sight of him waiting outside the pack house made my stomach drop.

Cyrus leaned against the wall, his expression was sharp with irritation, possessive, but not worried. He is never worried.

 “Who the hell told you that you could walk out of this house anytime you wanted?” he demanded, his eyes burning with fury.  

Instead of stopping to explain myself to him, I walked past him. 

For the first time, I chose defiance. 

He scoffed, angrily yanking my arm and pulling me back to face him. “Don’t you dare walk out on me!” 

His eyes finally caught the dress. He let go of me, letting his eyes roam over the dress. 

Then a chuckle erupted from him. 

 “You think wearing a dress like that would automatically make you pretty?” He said, his voice filled with disgust while his eyes lingered on me for longer than necessary. 

I felt embarrassed, “I didn’t do this for you, Cyrus.” I defended. “ I realised a long time ago that there’s no point in trying. You’ll never see me as more than what I am.”

“So you’re seeing other men now!”He growled. 

“I wish I was,” I muttered, avoiding his eyes. 

He held my chin tight. “Don’t you dare test my patience.

“Any man that lays a hand on you is as good as dead.” His words resounded in my head. 

“You. Are. Mine!” 

His claim on me made me sick to the bones. “I don’t belong to anyone,” I shot back. “Most especially not you, Cyrus.” 

“I reject you, Alpha Cyrus of Shadow Pack as my mate!”

He slammed me harder into the wall. 

I groaned in pain. 

His hot breath hit my skin before he could say a word. “You won’t dare to do that. You belong to me, Sage. And I choose whatever the fuck I do with you.” His eyes were darker now. Possessive.