Untamable

Chapter 19 Despair

Margaret’s POV

Knowing that James was my fated mate gave me a strange sense of satisfaction.

I know it may sound wild, considering he's a cold-blooded killer. But try to see it from my perspective. I was only seventeen, and he rescued me from a very real threat of s****l assault. Sure, he didn’t kill his brother to save me. Eliminating Jacob was already on his to-do list. I just happened to benefit from it.

Yet, I couldn't help but feel grateful and fascinated by his cool, composed demeanor. It felt like fate had tied us together, for better or worse. He was a criminal, and somehow, I ended up as his willing partner in crime. I'd be lying if I said I didn't find it somewhat romantic. His dangerous edge was both terrifying and strangely alluring. Like an i***t, I was drawn to him.

Of course, I never breathed a word about that night at the party. Prince Jacob's disappearance caused quite the stir in White City. King David seemed to age overnight, and he put James in charge of the search for his missing son—quite the ironic twist. It was a wild goose chase, naturally. Eventually, the incident faded into memory, and the king's health declined, leaving all royal duties to James.

The following year, James popped the question. My dad didn’t like it, but after some insistence from me, he came around. So, I married James and became his queen. James took care of running the kingdom, while my job was to mingle and make friends in high places. James and I cooperated well, and there were times I convinced myself we loved each other, like my parents did.

But everything shifted once we had kids. When little Henry arrived, all I wanted was to shower him with love and make sure he grew up right. But James had his own brilliant idea. He thought my value lay in being a top-notch queen, not a hands-on mom.

"You're my queen. You need to keep good relations with the five packs to back my fight against the rogues," he'd remind me, even in the middle of our s*x.

James neatly arranged things so Henry and I were rarely together, ensuring his upbringing was in the hands of nannies and servants. It crushed me, making me feel trapped in the royal golden cage. At times, I had to plaster on a fake smile at parties just to get James to let me have a few bittersweet moments with my own kid.

When I ended up pregnant again, James was quick to suggest a royal procedure, if you know what I mean. But I was already bonded with the tiny life inside me. I could hear the heartbeat and everything. There was no way I could end it. For the first time, I defied James.

He tried using his Lycan voice to force me, but I upped the stakes. I held a pair of scissors, aiming at my throat and threatened him through sobs, "If you take my child away, I’ll take myself away from you. Imagine the scandal. The five packs would be talking for ages."

"You're insane," he roared, but he had to give in. Image is everything in the royal business.

And so, little Edward was born. James couldn't stand the sight of him—maybe because Edward looked like me or perhaps because his presence was a constant reminder of the time I dared to cross him.

Slowly, the distance grew between James and me. He phased me out of meetings and left me out of important decisions. No more trips with the other packs. On one hand, I felt guilty. On the other, I was relieved. I thought I’d finally get to spend more time with my boys. But then he had me locked in a tower, claiming that I was suffering from postpartum depression after Edward's birth.

Sure, I was feeling low, but not because of Edward. No matter how much I screamed and begged, he wouldn’t let me out of the tower. My only way to talk to my children was through a basket, which was charming, but impractical. I wrote them countless letters, but James made sure every letter I wrote was intercepted by guards before reaching them.

To top it off, James tried turning Henry against Edward, planting ideas that I loved Edward more.

I feared for my sons’ relationship, but thankfully, Henry didn’t hold a grudge against Edward—just me. He visited me less and less over the time, and each visit left my heart a little heavier.

Those days were the darkest. I hovered on the brink of despair, even flirting with the idea of suiciding. Sometimes, the window seemed tempting, but thoughts of my sons kept me from taking the plunge.

Then came the Winter Hunt, a grand event drawing packs from far and wide to hunt with James. He finally paid me a visit, probably to yank me out for another round of royal festivities and hosting duties.

When he saw me, he looked utterly shocked, as if my withered state was all my own doing, and his relentless torment had nothing to do with it.

"How did you get so thin, Margaret?" he muttered, settling on the edge of my bed, eyeing the untouched lunch. "You need to eat," he added, as if he were my concerned, doting spouse.

"I'm not hungry," I replied dryly.

With all the gentleness of a loving partner—or perhaps a chef fattening up the bird for a feast—he tried to feed me, clearly wanting to plump me up for the royal showcase.

Turning my head away, I said, "I don't want to eat."

James looked at me, a warning note in his voice. "Don’t test my patience, Margaret."

"What about my children?" I shot back. "Let me see Henry and Edward, and I’ll eat all of this."

He chuckled darkly. "You're negotiating with me now?"

"You leave me no choice. What kind of person keeps a mother from her children?" I demanded sharply.

"I already told you, raising children is the omega's job. Your duty is to be a queen. Have you not learned this lesson in the tower, you foolish woman?" Disdain tainted his words, his eyes scanning me with disgust. "Look at yourself. You’ve grown old and ugly, Margaret, and all because you insisted on having Edward."

"My looks have changed because of the pressure you've put on me," I scoffed. "Stop blaming everyone else, King James."

He gripped my throat, forcing me to meet his icy gaze, his voice barely more than a chilling whisper. "Remember when we first met, Margaret? You promised that if I spared you, you’d do anything I asked. Are you backing out on that little vow?"

His grip tightened, and for a breathless moment, I thought he might actually choke me. Then he released me with a smirk. "Just a friendly reminder," he said smoothly. "I let you live because you have value. And don’t forget, I can dispose of you the moment that value runs out.”

Gasping for air, I managed to weakly ask, "Why don’t you just kill me?"

I clung to a tiny hope that maybe he didn't because deep down he loved me. But his reply shattered that illusion.

"You’re my fated mate, Margaret," James said with unsettling calm. "If I killed you, I’d die too." He paused, a smirk playing on his lips. "Though you've given me an idea."

He leaned in closer, his smile sending a shiver down my spine. "Let's just say there are creative ways to make you disappear without getting my own hands dirty, aren’t there?"

Despite the fear coursing through me, I snapped back, "Bring it on, then. You monster." I wasn’t about to give this psychopath the satisfaction of thinking he could control me completely.

At that moment, I realized my days were probably numbered. I just didn't have the energy to care. I was waiting for whatever fate had in store for me.

Well, fate didn't take long. A week later, while James was off hunting with our sons, I went to bed with a nice cup of hot tea, only to wake up in the wilderness. Surprise! James had me dumped in rogue territory, hoping they'd take me off his hands. It was as ruthless as it was clever, and somewhere deep down, I almost appreciated the dark humor in his plan.

The snow stretched on forever, and my feet were blocks of ice thanks to the servants' thoughtful gesture of removing my shoes. f**k those damned guards.

I knew death wasn’t far, either by frostbite or by the rogues. But honestly, I didn’t fear death. The thought of leaving my kids without a proper goodbye was what really twisted the knife.

I cried out loud in the snow, shrieking and wailing like a mad woman. It was funny, really—James would likely nod approvingly and tell everyone, "See, I told you she was out of her mind!" at my funeral. "The Queen has gone mad," he'd lament, with the perfect touch of royal tragedy.

You know the rest——Trinity found me and dragged me back from the brink, a modern miracle if there ever was one. Unfortunately, my condition was too severe; although I survived, I lost my wolf forever.

Meanwhile, James spun a fantastic tale of my supposed suicide to the world, then promptly married my sister a mere month after my 'death.'

I knew James all too well. I could easily picture him feeding my sister and father a string of regret-filled lies, pretending he was heartbroken over not taking better care of me. Marrying Alicia would be his grand gesture, a twisted homage to his so-called love for me. Plus, he'd use Alicia to look after the kids, a clever move since she'd never harm her own nephews.

I was disgusted by his cunning, yet when I heard Alicia had married James, a part of me felt relieved. I knew she was kind, younger, more gentle—the full package. I desperately hoped she could keep James in check and ensure my children were safe. It was the last shred of comfort I had, even if it made me as selfish as James.

Still, I worried about her. Could she withstand his manipulations, or would he eventually break her as well? The thought gnawed at me, but returning was out of the question.

White City was no longer my home. A single whisper of my survival, and James would surely come up with a new plan to eliminate me.

Do I hate him? Oh, absolutely. Am I ready to take him down? Not yet. But rest assured, this isn't over. I've carved this hatred so deeply into my heart that it’s practically a work of art. I've even convinced other rogues to get him to level 10 on the Blacklist. That means his level of jerkiness makes him a prime target for anyone looking to do the world a favor.

I know some rogues aren’t motivated by compassion. They despise him simply because he is the Lycan King. But honestly, I couldn't care less. As long as they're willing to kill James, they're my temporary allies.

Someday, someone will finish him off.

And I'd be thrilled if that someone were me.

Even if taking out your fated mate means you punch your own ticket out of this world, it’s a price I'm more than willing to pay.