The Scar He Scorned

Back at the house, I waited for an entire hour.

Once I was sure Clark wouldn't be back soon, I walked to his study.

In five years, he had never once let me inside.

Tonight, it was time to see what secrets he was hiding.

The rune-lock on the door glowed softly.

My hand trembled as I reached for it.

First, I entered the date of our Mating Ceremony.

"ACCESS DENIED," a cold, magical voice chimed.

My heart sank.

I tried the date I first successfully brewed a Guardian Potion for him.

"ACCESS DENIED."

I leaned against the door, a chill running through me. Clinging to a last, pathetic shred of hope, I entered the date I had nearly died saving his life five years ago.

When "ACCESS DENIED" flashed on the screen again, my last illusion shattered.

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and with a shaking hand, I typed in the one date I’d ever heard Clark speak with reverence.

Layla’s birthday.

"ACCESS GRANTED."

The lock clicked open.

The sound was so crisp, but my heart was in pieces.

The secret room was larger than I'd imagined.

The walls weren't covered in pictures, but in "Memory Crystals," preserved with expensive magic.

I shakily touched one, and Clark's perspective flooded my mind.

He was watching Layla, his eyes full of obsession, as she "created miracles" at an alchemy bench... using my rune designs.

In the center of the room, surrounded by every trophy Layla had ever won—trophies that should have been mine—there was a glass display case.

Inside was a single item.

A withered black rose.

It was the first Valentine's gift I had ever given him, five years ago.

He had promised to preserve it with magic, to "treasure it for a lifetime."

So this was his "treasured" memory—left here to rot.

I walked deeper into the room and found a smaller, rune-sealed safe.

This time, I went straight for Layla's birthday.

Inside, there were no love letters, no keepsakes.

Just 99 silver needles.

Each one was numbered, from 1 to 99.

And on the tip of every needle was a single, dried drop of blood.

My blood.

I picked up the first needle, and the memory hit me.

It wasn't just blood. It was an alchemist's soul-infused blood, drawn from the heart.

Every time an experiment failed, when I was exhausted and my spiritual defenses were at their weakest, Clark would hold me, gently stroking the back of my neck to comfort me.

But now I knew.

He wasn't comforting me.

He was using a special needle to siphon my core talent, my very essence, to be "absorbed" by Layla.

He wasn't just stealing my results.

He was draining my very soul, drop by drop.

My hand was shaking, but not from sorrow.

From rage.

At the very bottom of the safe lay a scroll.

I unrolled it. It was a draft of a blood oath, written in magical ink.

"By the Moon Goddess, I, Clark Drake, pledge my life, my loyalty, and my pack's entire fortune to join Layla Green's pack, serving as her eternal knight protector. As a show of my faith, I present the complete legacy of the ancient alchemists..."

I saw my own name at the bottom of the "asset list."

Listed along with my alchemy equipment and ancient rune books as part of the "offering."

And next to my name, written in blood-red ink, was a humiliating note:

"Myrna Walker (talent depleted, but bloodline is viable, suitable as valuable breeding stock)."

Breeding stock.

In that instant, the tear tracks on my face dried.

The last bit of sorrow in my heart turned to ice-cold silence and a towering inferno of hate.

I took out a Memory Crystal and recorded every piece of evidence.

I didn't even realize fresh tears were streaming down my face until I was done.

I wiped them away and, with a trembling hand, opened an encrypted comm link.

"Logan."

A silver-haired man's face appeared on the screen.

Logan Stone, one of the most powerful Alphas of the North.

"Myrna?" He frowned. "What's wrong? Why are you calling so late?"

"I accept your offer of alliance," I said, my voice steady. "You can have my family's entire alchemy legacy, including the formula for the Philosopher's Stone. But I decide when we make it public."

Logan was silent for a few seconds.

"What are your terms?"

"Help me sever my mate bond," I said, forcing my voice not to crack. "And help me destroy them."

"Done," Logan nodded. "I'll send my warriors to get you immediately."

"No, not yet," I shook my head. "Three days from now. At Layla's Consecration Ceremony. I want her to watch her whole world burn to the ground at her moment of greatest triumph."

I ended the call and put the device away.

Footsteps on the stairs.

Clark was back.

I quickly put everything back, closed the secret door, and walked to the living room as if nothing had happened.

"Myrna?" Clark pushed the door open and saw me on the couch. "You're still awake?"

"I was just comparing notes on runes with some explorers from the ancient ruins," I said, holding up my comm device. "They found some interesting old arrays."

A flicker of something—fear? guilt?—crossed Clark's eyes.

"It's late. That's not good for you," he said, sitting next to me. "Myrna, we need to talk."

"About what?"

"Our future." He took my hand. "I think it's time we considered having a child. An heir with your alchemy talent and my Alpha blood."

I looked at him as if seeing him for the first time.

"Are you sure?" I asked. "Now?"

"Of course," his eyes were eager. "We've been mated for five years. It's time to solidify our bond, to build a real family."

Solidify our bond.

Make sure I could never escape his control.

"I need time to think," I said, standing up. "I'm too tired tonight. I'm going to bed."

Clark stood up too.

"Of course. Take all the time you need," he said, kissing my forehead. "Goodnight, my love."

I went upstairs and locked my bedroom door.

Then I opened another encrypted comm and began drafting a document.

"To the Alchemist Division of the Werewolf Elders' Council: Application to perform the Rite of Severance for a Mate Bond..."

After sending it, I opened another screen and booked a private flight off the continent in three days.

Destination: The Northern Territories.

I heard Clark's study door close downstairs.

I lay down on my bed, clearing my mind of all emotion.

Go ahead, Clark. Check on your secret room.

But you'll never guess that the prey has become the hunter.