Stephen's Broken Promises

Zyan stood rooted to the spot, chest heaving with ragged, uneven breaths. Every inch of distance she put between them felt like a physical tearing of his own flesh. Ky was losing his mind, snarling and thrashing against the inside of Zyan's ribs like a caged storm.

 

Beside him, Maddox turned, his brows pulling together in sudden concern as he registered the terrifying stillness of his son. “Zyan? Son… you good?”

 

But he didn’t answer. He couldn't force his throat to work.

 

Because all he could hear was Ky’s relentless, furious demand echoing through his skull, threatening to completely strip away his humanity.

 

She’s our Mate. Go after her. Don’t let her slip away.

 

And all he could see was the girl who smelled like home, and salvation disappearing into the trees, clutching a piece of paper like a lifeline as she ran from him as fast as her legs could carry her.

 

Emerald didn’t stop running until her lungs burned and her vision blurred. She blindly navigated the outer edges of the Midway, finally reaching the farthest, most isolated cabin on the Frost property—the one her uncle had circled on the booth assignment sheet.

 

She shoved the door open, stumbled blindly inside, and slammed it shut behind her.

 

The moment the deadbolt clicked into place, the last thread holding her upright snapped. Her legs gave out completely. She slid down the rough wood of the door, her knees pulling tight to her chest as she hit the floor. Her hands were trembling so violently that she had to press her palms flat against the cold, dusty floorboards just to ground herself, just to prove she was real.

 

“No,” she whispered, her voice cracking into a ragged, pathetic sob. “Not again. I can’t— I can’t do this again. Please.”

 

But Liora wasn’t listening.

 

Her wolf—who had been a silent, withdrawn, and completely unreachable hollow space inside her chest for the last eight months—was suddenly violently, breathtakingly awake. Liora wasn't just pacing; she was thrashing against the confines of Emerald's mind, frantic, starved, and completely intoxicated by the lingering scent of woodsmoke and earth that still clung to their nostrils. The smell that was all him.

Mate. Liora’s voice echoed, a deafening, desperate demand. He’s our mate. He’s safe. He’s strong. He’s—

“Stop!” Emerald choked out, ripping her hands from the floor to press the heels of her palms bruisingly hard against her temples. “Please, Liora, stop it! I can’t— I can’t go through this again!”

 

Liora let out a low, vibrating growl, but it wasn't aimed at Emerald. It was a sound of fierce, protective desperation. He is not Stephen.

 

Emerald squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head as tears hot enough to scald tracked down her cheeks. But closing her eyes only trapped her in the dark with the memories.

 

They crashed over her, suffocating and vivid. Making the pain center in her stomach again as it had that day.

 

Stephen, standing tall and arrogant in the dead center of the Claw Mountain ceremonial circle. Her cousin, Julia, draped over his arm like a hard-won prize, wearing a dress Emerald had helped her pick out just a week before. The suffocating silence of the entire pack watching. The sudden, cruel eruption of whispers. The muffled laughter felt like razor blades scraping against her skin.

 

Stephen’s voice—cold, dismissive, completely devoid of the warmth he had faked for months—echoed through her skull.

 

“Why would I want her? She can’t even satisfy a mate. She’s… nothing. A lowly omega.”

 

A wretched sob tore from Emerald's throat as she curled tighter into a ball. She hadn’t even touched him. They hadn’t even shared a real kiss. She had been so willing—so nervous, so deeply hopeful, and so ready to trust him with her body and her soul. But he had constantly pulled away, insisting with a gentle, manipulative smile that they wait until they were officially bonded.

 

“I want to make sure that you know it's forever,” he’d told her, stroking her cheek while she melted under his false devotion.

 

And all the while, he’d been sneaking into Julia’s bed.

 

Julia, who had smirked at her from over Stephen’s shoulder as he systematically destroyed Emerald in front of the people she had known her entire life. Julia, who had leaned in and whispered loudly enough for the front row of the pack to hear:

 

“He needed a real woman, Em. Not a scared, frigid little girl.”

 

Emerald curled forward until her forehead rested against her knees, wrapping her arms so tightly around her stomach that it felt like she was trying to hold her shattered ribs together by sheer force.

 

That was the day Stephen had officially rejected the bond.

 

It was also the day Liora had screamed in agony and gone completely, terrifyingly silent. The day Emerald had stopped being able to draw a single breath without it hurting.

 

And the most agonizing part of the memory—the blade that twisted the deepest—was that her own parents had stood mere feet away. They hadn't lunged forward to catch her when her knees gave out. They hadn't bared their teeth at the male who was actively shredding their daughter's soul. They had simply shifted their gazes to the floor, their faces flushed with embarrassment over the public spectacle, stepping aside so Julia's family could bask in the spotlight.

 

It was Alpha Cobb and Luna Nesha—who had traveled all the way from the Silver Paw pack for what was supposed to be a joyous ceremony—who broke the paralyzing silence. Nesha had shoved furiously through the gawking crowd, dropping to the floor to gather Emerald’s violently shaking body against her chest while Emerald's own mother did absolutely nothing.

 

"Get her things," Cobb had snarled at Emerald's father, his Alpha aura flaring with lethal, suffocating disgust when the man refused to meet his eye. "Now! Or I will tear this house apart to find them myself. We are leaving."

 

As Cobb lifted Emerald into his arms, carrying her toward the double doors, Stephen hadn't looked guilty. The agonizing, soul-tearing pain that was actively killing Emerald hadn't fazed him in the slightest. In fact, as Cobb and Nesha tried to get her out of the room, Stephen’s cruelty only escalated, his voice projecting across the hall with nasty, unapologetic venom.

 

"Take the frigid little shadow, Cobb!" Stephen had called out, laughing mockingly as he pulled Julia tighter against his side. "You're doing Claw Mountain a massive favor! Honestly, don't even bother bringing her back. She’s pathetic! A defective little freak who's barely even a wolf!"

 

Her uncle and aunt had packed her bags themselves that very night, driving her away from the only home she’d ever known, desperately hoping that distance and the sanctuary of Silver Paw would keep her from fading away completely.