Novel & Cerita Skye And Marshall

The remnants of the pack gathering had barely faded when my whole world changed. My best friend, Hallie Richmond, vanished, snatched away by rogues. Only for her to reappear the next day, found bruised and bitten near the pack borders. My heart ached for her, so I went to her with her favourite apple pie. But the solace I intended to offer shattered into a million pieces the moment I heard the words of my boyfriend, Camilo White, our pack's beta. "...Hallie's family will destroy her if they learn of this. I have no choice but to mark her first.” "What about me, Camilo? I'm your girlfriend!" The words tumbled out. "You can be my secondary mate, Violet. It's just a small favor. Surely, if you truly loved me, you wouldn't hesitate to help?" Camilo's words ripped my heart out, breaking up with me and replacing me with Hallie for the marking ceremony we had both anticipated with such joy. From that moment forward, I became a shadow. The pack whispered words of how I was deflowered before my true mate could claim me. My family now regarded me with disappointment. My father's anger was a physical force, driving me to my knees beneath the icy waterfall. Then, the following day, a figure emerged from the mist. Alex Skye, the Alpha's son, pulled me from the water. He leaned close, his sky-blue eyes holding mine, and whispered the words that offered home: "I'm your true mate, Violet. Break up with that vile, idiotic boyfriend of yours. I believe you will be the perfect future Luna."

The day I was awarded the highest service medal, I got a call that my grandfather had died. My superiors approved emergency leave, and I rushed straight back to the family estate without stopping. The moment I reached the hillside cemetery behind the house, what I saw snapped something inside me. Our family burial ground had been completely leveled. My parents' graves had been dug open. Their urns had been turned into flower pot bases, with dark-red roses planted right on top of them. My grandfather's coffin had been split apart. His body was left exposed in the dirt, already starting to rot. And my younger brother, Jerry Horton, who was on the autism spectrum, was being ordered around like a laborer by my husband's assistant, Digby Wolfe, hauling construction materials back and forth. I lost it. I grabbed Digby and slammed him into the ground with a hard shoulder throw. "You touched my family's graves and made my brother do manual labor. Are you trying to get buried here with them?" Digby coughed up blood as he struggled to his feet, sneering at me. "This was Mr. Gray's decision. He said your family plot is in a good location, with plenty of space. It's perfect for building a golf course for the future Mrs. Gray. In Joule, Mr. Gray is the law." His tone was icy. "And who do you think you are?" I swallowed my rage and called Marshall Gray. "I hear you run Joule," I said. "Well, I'm about to change that."

I gave him nine years. Nine years of stretching every coin, raising our son alone, sleeping on my side of the bed because I could not bring myself to take his. Nine years of telling Dave his father was working hard so they could have a better life. I believed it myself. Until I saw him on a public street with his hand on another woman’s waist, looking at her the way I spent nine years waiting for him to look at me. When he crossed the pavement it was not to apologise. It was to tell me she was his wife. Six months married. He told me to keep things calm, walked back to her, and introduced me as his cousin. The divorce papers came that same night. I needed a job immediately. For my son. For the bills that would not wait for me to finish falling apart. So I pulled myself together the way I always do and kept moving. I did not expect Mac Harlow. I did not expect him to run three blocks to return my dropped folder or offer me a job despite his sister’s calls to have me removed. I did not expect his daughter to find my son within ten minutes and decide they were already family. I did not expect to discover that the man I was starting to trust was connected to everything I was trying to leave behind. He did not know. I believe that. But Marshall knows now that someone else sees what he threw away. And he wants it back. He is nine years too late. Mac is looking at me like I am worth staying for. Not fixing. Not managing. Staying for. I spent nine years being someone’s afterthought. Never again.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​