The White Wolf He Rejected For A Mistress

Caroline POV:

The sky was the color of a bruised plum. A storm was coming. The air pressure was dropping, making my healing leg ache with a deep, bone-grinding rhythm.

I stood in front of my mother's grave. She had been a Beta, strong and kind. She would have torn Blake's throat out if she were alive today.

I placed a white lily on the cold stone. "Goodbye, Mama," I whispered. "I have to find myself again."

A car horn honked from the road.

Blake was waiting in the sleek black SUV. He hadn't turned off the engine. He was tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, impatient. He had only agreed to drive me here because it was on the way to the pack's Sunday dinner, and appearances still mattered to him.

I limped back to the car. The wind was picking up, whipping my hair across my face.

As I reached for the door handle, Blake's phone rang. It was the special ringtone he assigned to her.

He answered it immediately.

"Ariana? Slow down. I can't understand you."

I froze, my hand hovering over the handle.

"You're where? The South District?" Blake's face went pale. "That's near the Rogue border. You have a flat tire?"

He looked at the sky. Thunder rumbled in the distance, a low growl that shook the ground.

"Stay in the car," Blake commanded into the phone. "Lock the doors. I'm coming."

He hung up and looked at me. He didn't unlock the passenger door.

"Caroline, I have to go," he said. "Ariana is stranded near the border. A storm is hitting. It's dangerous for a defenseless female."

"I'm standing in a cemetery, Blake," I said, the wind tearing at my coat. "My leg is shattered. I can't walk to the main road."

"Get in," he said, distracted. "I'll drop you at the turnoff. You can call a patrol."

"I'm not getting in if we're going to her," I snapped. "It's Sunday dinner. You promised the Elders."

"She's alone!" he shouted, his patience snapping. "Fine. If you want to be stubborn, stay here. Call a patrol yourself. They'll be here in twenty minutes."

He hit the gas. The tires spun on the gravel, spraying stones against my shins. The SUV roared away, disappearing around the bend, chasing after a woman who knew exactly how to play the damsel.

I was left alone in the rising wind.

I pulled out my phone to call the patrol, but the screen flickered. No signal. The magnetic interference from the coming storm was scrambling the reception.

The rain began. It wasn't a drizzle; it was a deluge. Freezing sheets of water slammed into me, soaking my clothes instantly. The cold seeped into my bandages, making the silver burns sting.

I couldn't stay here. The cemetery was isolated. If Rogues were near the border, they would pass through here to avoid the patrols.

I adjusted my crutches and began to walk toward the main road. Every step was a battle. The mud was slippery, threatening to send me sprawling.

Ten minutes later, I was on the shoulder of the highway. The rain was so heavy I could barely see five feet in front of me.

I saw headlights cutting through the gloom. A truck. It was moving fast, too fast for the weather.

I waved my arm, desperate for help.

The truck didn't slow down. It swerved.

For a second, I saw the driver's face. His eyes were glowing red. A Rogue.

He wasn't avoiding me. He was aiming for me.

I tried to jump back, but my bad leg gave out. I crumbled onto the wet asphalt.

The impact was like being hit by a wrecking ball. My body was thrown into the air. I felt ribs crack. I felt the world spin.

I landed in the ditch, the water rising around me. Darkness swallowed me whole, and for the first time in five years, I welcomed it.