I bit the inside of my mouth to hold back a bitter laugh. Trust him? Not hurt me? Those were exactly the things he’d failed at again and again. If those poisonous berries had claimed my life yesterday, I doubted he would’ve even mourned me.
Once I entered the packroom, the children ran up to greet me, their laughter echoing with joy. For a moment, their beaming faces dulled the constant ache in my chest. I used to picture raising pups of my own—Darrell had even whispered dreams of our future together. But like the promises he made, those dreams had turned to ash.
Leaving them would hurt more than I was ready for.
Later that evening, I glanced at my phone and saw yet another message from my parents. They were excited about the wedding preparations—asking what kind of flowers I wanted, what dress style I liked, whether I preferred a crown of blossoms or a flowing veil.
Since my teenage years, I’d always adored the idea of wedding planning. I even took charge of Sinna’s wedding—Darrell’s sister—five years back when she married someone from the Duncan Pack. Now she had two adorable sons and a partner who truly loved her. And me? After a decade spent loving Darrell, all I had were regrets. If I had allowed my parents to choose a mate for me back then, I might already have three children and a husband who valued me. Instead, I was here—discarded and humiliated by the man I once thought would be my forever.
During a trip to the pack market, I purchased small gifts for the children and something for Elisha—one of the few people who still treated me like I mattered. As I returned, two pack warriors noticed my struggle with the packages and wordlessly helped me carry them to the manor. Their silent support touched something fragile in me.
Darrell caught sight of the gifts as I walked in, his gaze immediately hardening. “What’s all this for? Who are you giving them to? And this…” He waved a letter at me, one I instantly recognized by the handwriting. “What’s this about a wedding that the messenger mentioned?”
I reached out and took the letter, my mother’s neat script confirming my guess. “We need to talk, Alpha Darrell,” I said, my voice unwavering despite the emotional storm stirring within me. “About the upcoming marriage—”
Before I could finish, a pack warrior burst into the room.
“Alpha, Carla isn’t in her quarters. We’ve searched the entire packhouse—she’s gone.”