Chapter 2

Amelia's POV

I ran past everyone with a smile. Members of my pack—small and big, men and women—greeted me as I passed by. Unlike in my house, where I felt unwelcome and unwanted, outside of my home, people were genuinely nice to me.

But if they only knew. I hid my scars pretty well... and I mean pretty much.

Jocelyn's favorite game for me was "How long could I last while being burnt with a silver object on my skin?" Or another of her favorite games: injecting me with small doses of wolfsbane. Wolfsbane is like a poison to us werewolves if given at a certain dosage, but not deadly if given in smaller amounts. It was still equally painful, though. It was as if your insides were being torn apart and burnt at the same time. Jocelyn always made sure to inject me in areas where my dad would never notice, and when she did, she made sure to remind me who slept next to my dad at night.

"Don't forget... I can kill him in his sleep, and he won't even see it coming. Besides, who do you think he'll believe if you rattle? You, or me?" she'd ask each time, glorifying the fact I knew Dad wouldn't believe me if I told him she was trying to harm me.

Her tortures used to be incredibly painful, and it took days to heal, especially because she'd often deprive me of meals. But she'd lie to my dad each time he'd see a bruise on me, saying I had probably gotten it while training with the guards.

Little did Jocelyn know that when I turned seventeen last year, I was able to shift for the first time and meet my beautiful wolf, Zoey. So, she's taken most of my pain away, making Jocelyn's games less painful.

Still, the only thing that ever torments me is that dark and cold attic where Nicholas continued to lock me in time and time again since we were small. My fear of small and dark places has been a phobia I have yet to overcome. For now, I'd stay clear of them and focus on helping everyone with the decorations.

I made my way to the pack house, where things were more alive and the mood was happier. Everyone greeted me with a smile, making me feel more welcome.

I helped set up chairs and blew up balloons. I then went to the kitchen where Mrs. Kok was. She was our cook and one of my favorite people in this pack. I loved her cooking. I learned to cook and do many things thanks to her. She was like the mother figure I had needed in dire times.

Once it was close to midnight, I begged everyone to go rest. We had a long day tomorrow. I bid everyone farewell and made my way back to the house.

But as I got near, I was hit with that scent again—earthy tones, invigorating. So much that it made my wolf, Zoey, go crazy. I had been sensing it for the last two or three days, faintly, but I did. And it drove my wolf crazy like catnip to a cat.

The clock turned twelve on my watch, making a low ding, and I smiled, wishing myself a happy birthday. "Happy birthday, Amie," my wolf said, making a tear roll down my cheek. "Thank you, dear friend."

I walked toward the door, and the scent became stronger as I opened it.

I couldn't help but follow the scent and was startled when I realized it was coming from Nicholas's door.

"No. No, it can't be... he can't," I said as my hands shook.

I could hear him; he grunted as a girl inside moaned in pleasure. He was being intimate with another girl in their romantic fantasy. I knew he was dating Kimberly; he'd been with her for over two years, and I was aware they'd been sleeping together. But why... why did it have to be him? Out of so many prominent and better men in my pack, why did I have to be mates with the biggest manwhore in our pack?

"My eyes teared, feeling a knot build in my stomach from the anger and mixture of emotions I felt inside. I gripped the doorknob shakily, and I couldn't help my next move. I turned that knob and slammed the door open.

He lifted off of her, startled, and she scrambled to cover herself with the duvet, her body trembling. The room reeked of sex, mixed with his earthy scent—sultry, magnetic, and all too familiar.

My vision blurred as anger and hurt surged within me. It felt like someone had plunged a cold blade straight into my chest.

"You... why... why did it have to be you?" I spat, my voice cracking, my knees threatening to buckle beneath me.

"Baby, who is she?" she asked, her voice sweet and innocent, and my heart twisted. Nicholas growled, his face darkening in frustration.

He was bare, muscles rippling beneath the sheen of sweat, his breath ragged from their earlier encounter. It was a sight that should have made my heart flutter, but instead, it felt like a punch to the gut. How could I feel this drawn to him after everything? How could I still want him when he had just betrayed me so ruthlessly?

I couldn’t stand being in the room for another second. My head spun, a strange, nauseating heat rising within me. I turned on my heel and ran out, my heart pounding in my ears as I fled down the hall and into my room. I slammed the door behind me, chest heaving, fighting the tears that threatened to spill.

As I sank to the floor, my hands clutching at my stomach, a sharp pain shot through me. It wasn’t just emotional—it was physical. The mate bond. The ache... It was as if my very soul was being ripped apart. I gasped, my body curling into a fetal position as the pain intensified, a burning sensation flooding my chest, my stomach, radiating through my limbs. It felt like my heart was being shredded. This was supposed to be a bond of love and unity, not torture.

I could barely breathe through the agony. It was overwhelming, consuming, as if the universe itself was punishing me for even thinking I had a chance at happiness. How could he do this to me? My heart was shattered, but it felt as if the bond itself was tearing me apart, piece by piece, and for the first time, I realized how much control it had over me. I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t escape it.

The pain didn’t fade immediately. It lingered, pulsing through me like an endless tide, and I cried out—silent, broken sobs, trapped in a void of pain and betrayal. He didn’t care. He didn’t care about me. Just like that, the world I thought I knew shattered.

He didn’t care. And now, neither did I.

But what else could I expect, though? He had never cared about me. He had hated me from the day we met.