Tidebound Tragedy: The Sadistic Alpha's Insanity

Dad was shocked when he heard the words come out of my mouth.

Back then, I had threatened him with my life just to avoid an arranged bond with Shane Russell. Now, here I was, giving in of my own accord.

Dad asked, "Have you really thought this through? Shane hasn't changed his mind about you in all these years. He truly insists you're his fated mate. If you back out halfway like you did before, you'll really embarrass the Vida pack."

"I've made up my mind, Dad," I said firmly.

Back then, Dad saw right through Grote's sweet talk. He warned me I'd end up heartbroken, but I was already blinded by Grote's empty promises.

Under the moonlight, Grote had sworn I was his fated mate and one and only Luna.

I had believed him. But after seven years of waiting, those promises were never kept.

Dad had told me that Shane was still there, waiting for the moment I'd change my mind.

But I wouldn't listen. I was even willing to cut ties with him just to be with Grote.

It broke his heart, yet he still couldn't bring himself to blame me.

I looked down at the mess of tapes I had smashed on the floor. Swallowing the sharp pain in my chest, I gathered them up, box by box.

I never imagined that Grote—the wolf who claimed he'd love me until death—would be so bold as to record every piece of evidence of his betrayal.

Suddenly, the house I had called home felt like a stranger's.

I took a deep breath to push down the rising tide of emotion and began to pack.

Over the years, I had cared for Grote in every possible way.

He suffered from chronic headaches and struggled to sleep, so every night I made him soothing tea. I never went to bed until I was sure he was sound asleep.

I knew Grote had twisted kinks. I was terrified of the way he forced those large objects into me, but for his sake, I endured it all.

I endured him forcing himself into me without a single moment of foreplay. Once he finished, he would simply fall asleep immediately, completely indifferent to my needs.

I never asked for much. Just a little love and care would be enough.

But as I looked back now, I realized that Grote had never actually loved me. He only cared about satisfying his own desires, leaving me to heal my own wounds in silence.

Even when my private part was rotting from the infections, he didn't care. He'd still use those toys to violate me.

Every time I tried to say no, he would look at me with those soulful eyes and coax me softly.

"Please, honey. I can't help myself when I see you. Just bear with me, please. I'm burning up for you. If you really loved me, how could you stand to see me in this much pain?"

His voice was low and seductive, and his expression was a mask of restrained primal instincts.

I fell for it every time. I gave in over and over, enduring daily humiliation.

I turned to look at the home we had shared for seven years. Now that a third wolf had forced her way in, every warm memory felt tainted and hollow.

Just as I was about to walk out, Grote's name flashed on my phone.

"Fine," I thought. I'd tell him I was leaving, say my piece, and put the past behind me for good.

But before I could say a word, Grote's panicked voice came through the line. "Renata! I'm at the healer's. It's bad. It's really bad! I don't know what to do!"

I didn't even stop to ask questions.

Seven years of putting him first had become a reflex. I was worried sick about him.

I hated myself for it. He had shattered me so completely, yet I still couldn't bring myself to stand by and do nothing.

Despite the struggle within me, I found myself racing toward him anyway.

When I arrived, Grote pulled me into a tight embrace. "You're finally here. If you hadn't come, I honestly wouldn't have known what to do!"

I had never seen him this shaken. Grote was typically calm and collected. Aside from the moments when his urges took control, he was a steady and capable Alpha in managing all the pack's affairs.

But today, he looked like a panicked pup.

My heart hammered in my chest as I asked, "Are you okay? What happened?"

But then, a soft moan drifted from inside the room, causing me to freeze.

"Honey, don't worry about me. It wasn't your fault. I'd die happily for you if I had to…"

Grote rushed to reply, "No, it's my fault. I shouldn't have been so rough. I'll be more careful next time, I promise."

The realization hit me like a physical blow. Grote wasn't hurt at all—it was Christine, and I knew exactly why she was hurt.