NADIA
"I just spoke with the elders of the pack. They are quite keen on welcoming me back and allowing me to resume my position. If it isn't too much of a problem for you, I would kindly ask you to step down and let the true owner take his place."
Maxwell's voice drips with authority, yet there's an unmistakable undertone of amusement, as if he's savoring every bit of this moment. I barely have time to process his words before I feel Asher's grip on my arm tighten like a vice.
At first, it's just discomfort. Then it escalates—pain sharp enough to make me wince. But Asher doesn't let up. His fingers dig into my flesh with unrelenting force, his rage tangible. My breath hitches when the pain becomes unbearable.
I let out an involuntary screech.
Asher's eyes snap to me, cold and ruthless. Without a word, he yanks me forward, dragging me out of the pack house with a grip so tight I feel my circulation cut off.
I don't know where he's taking me, but I know one thing for certain—wherever it is, nothing good awaits me there.
The hallway stretches before us, dark and foreboding, as my stumbling footsteps struggle to keep up with his determined pace. Behind us, Maxwell follows at a leisurely stride, laughing as though this is all some grand joke. His laughter is sharp, cruel, slicing through my already wounded pride.
He's enjoying this.
My pain is his entertainment.
"Asher, please!" I gasp, trying to wrench my arm free. His grip only tightens in response. My heart hammers in my chest as panic builds, but he doesn't stop.
The pack house doors burst open as we step outside. The cool night air slaps against my skin, but there's no relief, only dread. I think, maybe, just maybe, he'll stop here. Maybe he just wants me out of his sight.
But then he does something that shatters even my lowest expectations.
He throws me out.
Not just pushes. Not just shoves.
He grips me by the hands and physically hurls me forward, as if I am nothing more than discarded trash.
The moment my body collides with the ground, pain radiates through me. My knees and palms scrape against the rough terrain, the impact forcing the air from my lungs. My face slams into the dirt, and before I can stop it, sand fills my mouth, clinging to my tongue and teeth.
The sheer shock of it paralyzes me.
For a moment, I can't move. Can't think. Can't breathe.
Then, laughter erupts behind me, loud and unrestrained. Maxwell is laughing so hard he's slapping his leg, utterly delighted by my disgrace. The sound grates against my ears, and humiliation burns through me hotter than any physical pain.
Around us, I hear scattered chuckles. Not just his. Others saw. Others witnessed my mate throwing me out like garbage.
And still, Maxwell laughs.
To add insult to injury, my wolf decides now is the perfect time to chime in.
You literally fell for our mate, both face first and heart first.
I groan internally. She's always been unpredictable—fierce one moment, completely absent the next. And now, instead of comforting me, she's cracking jokes. Typical.
I want to disappear. To sink into the ground and never resurface.
How long I lie there, I don't know. Minutes feel like hours. The cool earth beneath me is the only thing grounding me to reality. Eventually, I gather the courage to push myself up, my hands trembling. The coast is mostly clear, the spectators having moved on, uninterested in prolonging my humiliation.
All except one.
Maxwell remains, standing a few feet away, a smug smile still tugging at his lips. His eyes glint with something unreadable as he watches me rise, slow and unsteady.
My first instinct? Punch him.
Wipe that grin off his stupidly handsome face. Make him feel just a fraction of the pain I feel right now. But as much as I want to lash out, I don't. I won't stoop to his level.
Instead, I lift my chin, swallowing the lump in my throat. Tears sting my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall.
"Was this the reason you agreed to date me?" My voice wavers, but I push through. "Was this why you brought me here? To use me as a pawn in your game against your brother?"
Maxwell's smile falters.
I shake my head, heart clenching. "To think I actually believed you liked me. How foolish I was."
For the first time, something shifts in his expression. The amusement vanishes. He takes a step forward, hands slightly raised as if to comfort me.
"Don't," I warn, crossing my arms tightly over my chest, turning away. If I look at him any longer, I might actually break.
"Nadia, I'm sorry." His voice is softer now, almost pleading. "I know I messed up. I destroyed any chance I had with you, but please—just let me explain."
He steps closer, carefully taking my hands in his. "I would never treat a woman that way—especially not you. I—" he hesitates, then continues, "I want to imprint on you someday."
My breath catches.
Imprint.
I stare at him, stunned. He wants to imprint on me?
For a moment, guilt washes over me. I had been trying to use him to get my mate back. And yet… he had real intentions.
But then I remember.
I remember the way he laughed when Asher threw me out.
My jaw clenches as I yank my hands free. "Then why didn't you help me?" My voice is sharp, demanding. "Why did you just stand there and laugh?"
Maxwell exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. "I… I let a part of me I thought was buried resurface. I let my bitterness win." He meets my gaze, his own filled with regret. "I let him treat you that way because I knew it would hurt him, too. And I wanted him to hurt. I was petty, Nadia. I won't deny that."
He steps closer, voice firm. "But I swear to you—it won't happen again. I would protect you with my life, mate or not. I like you, Nadia. And I thank the Moon Goddess every day that my idiot brother was dumb enough to reject you."
His next words are almost whispered. "It's as if she wanted you to have a second chance."
Tears threaten again, but this time, they're different.
I don't know whether to believe him. To forgive him. To let him in.
But for the first time, I wonder…
Do I even want Asher back anymore?