Goodbye Deadbeat, Hello Alpha!

Gone Girl

[Nikolai]

I sat on my horse long after she'd limped away, watching her retreating figure until she disappeared around the stable corner.

Fuck. f**k. f**k!

The word echoed in my head on repeat, a useless mantra that changed nothing.

I shouldn't have interfered. That wasn't me. I didn't play hero for crying maids or usually get involved in the subject of Anderson's sick games—the bastard had always been twisted, and I'd learned early on to just let him do his thing and stay out of it.

But then the gun went off.

And I moved.

Not because I'd thought it through. Not because I'd weighed the consequences or given a damn about playing the good guy. I just... moved. One second I was watching from a distance, telling myself it wasn't my problem, and the next I had my gun out and Anderson's ear was gone.

The mate bond.

It had to be. That primal, irritating pull I'd been trying to ignore since the night I'd met her. It was the only explanation for why I'd done something so suddenly. Something so unlike me.

I tugged the reins and urged my horse forward, but slower this time. Not particularly in a rush. I didn't even know where the hell I was going.

She wasn't special. Not to me.

I'd just seen her in the stables, covered in grime and reeking of manure, and I'd felt nothing but disgust. My wolf had stirred, sure—drawn to her scent beneath all that filth—but I had wanted nothing to do with her.

That night outside the stables should've been simple. A quick f**k to get her out of my system. Scratch the itch and maybe indulge over the course of the winter.

But then she cried.

I still couldn't shake the image. Her face turned away, arm thrown over her eyes like she was trying to hide from me. Those tears sliding down her temples and disappearing into her hair and the grass beneath.

It disturbed me more than I wanted to admit.

I wasn't a rapist. I didn't force women. Hell, I'd given her plenty of chances to back out but she'd been the one who kissed me first, who edged me on with that defiant look in her eyes like she had something to prove.

She could've stopped it. Could've said no.

But she hadn't.

So why the tears?

I'd avoided her after that. Easier to pretend it never happened than to deal with whatever the f**k that had been. Easier to keep my distance and let the whole thing fade into irrelevance.

Except it didn't fade.

Every time I caught sight of her across the estate, my mind dragged me back to that night. Her body beneath mine, the way she'd arched against the grass, the heat of her skin, the sound she'd made when I—

Fuck.

I adjusted myself in the saddle, jaw clenched.

Clearly, I was the only one who couldn't forget that night even now.

And those words I'd said earlier, in front of Anderson—calling her horse piss, dismissing her like she was nothing—I'd done that on impulse. To prove that I didn't care. That she didn't mean a damn thing to me.

So... why did I feel like such a piece of s**t?

'Because of the bond,' I told myself. 'Just the bond.'

I wanted it gone. Severed. Cut clean so I could go back to my life without this nagging pull toward a woman I didn't even like.

But her accusations still rang in my ears.

She wasn't wrong.

I had stood there. I'd watched Anderson humiliate her, and I hadn't done a damn thing until it went too far.

And now she'd thrown my so-called heroism back in my face and walked away bleeding.

Stubborn woman.

I shouldn't have been annoyed. Should've shrugged it off and gone about my day.

But it was such a conflicting feeling... being disappointed in myself and for the first time in a while.

I dismounted near the main house, handing the reins off to a stablehand without a word. My shirt was still half-open, hair tangled from the ride, but I didn't bother fixing either.

I just stood there, staring back toward the direction she'd gone. My pulse had calmed down. Still... there was something undeniably sexy about the way she'd rejected my help and scolded me earlier.

'I really have lost my mind.'

***

I strode back toward the main house, boots crunching against gravel, still irritated by the entire goddamn morning.

The front doors were already open when I reached them, and naturally—because this day couldn't get any worse—Camilla was waiting in the foyer like she had nothing better to do.

She looked up from her phone the moment I walked in, one perfectly sculpted brow arching. "I just saw Anderson leaving," she said, tone light but curious. "Bleeding, actually. Did you two have a fight?"

I scoffed, not slowing my pace as I headed for the stairs. "Since when are you so concerned about humans?"

"I'm not," she replied smoothly, falling into step beside me. "I'm just curious."

"Anderson's a thing I kept around for amusement," I said flatly. "But the vermin clearly overestimated his worth."

Camilla hummed, clearly unconvinced. "So you shot him."

"I shot near him," I corrected. "And just because his family knows our secret doesn't mean I have to put up with his s**t indefinitely."

"Fair enough." She paused at the base of the stairs, arms crossing. "He's lucky you didn't kill him on the spot, then. I mean, with your necrophobia and all."

I paused briefly, but didn't react to her provocation. "He is."

I kept moving, but she wasn't done.

"So," Camilla called after me, voice taking on that annoyingly casual tone she used when she was fishing for information. "What happened to that maid you two were playing with?"

I stopped mid-step, glancing back at her over my shoulder. My expression stayed cold, unreadable. "What maid?"

Her lips curved into a knowing smile.

Dammit! I shouldn't have played dumb.

"The one Anderson was chasing through the woods.."

"A maid's wellbeing is the least of my concerns, Camilla."

She studied me for a moment, clearly not buying it, but she didn't push further. Just shrugged and turned away. "If you say so."

I didn't wait for her to add anything else. I took the stairs two at a time and disappeared into my room.

I hated it when she got overly perceptive because that always spelt trouble.

The shower helped—barely.

I stood under the spray longer than necessary, letting the hot water beat down on my shoulders, trying to wash away the lingering frustration. The image of Isolde limping away kept replaying in my head, and no amount of scalding water seemed to make it stop.

'You stood there. You let him whip me.' The words kept replaying in my mind and I didn't understand why.

I shut off the water with more force than necessary, grabbed a towel, and dried off quickly.

By the time I collapsed into bed, I was determined to sleep this entire day off and wake up with a clearer head.

But of course, that didn't happen. A scream jolted me awake.

I groaned, dragging a hand down my face as I sat up. The light filtering through the curtains was dim—sunset, maybe. I'd been out for a few hours at most.

Another scream echoed through the house, followed by frantic voices and hurried footsteps.

What now?

I pulled on a shirt and stepped into the hallway, terribly irritated. Couldn't I get one decent nap in this miserable house?

Downstairs, Luna stood in the centre of the main hall, hands pressed to her chest like she was on the verge of fainting. Servants were being herded into a line, Harlan barking orders while my stepmother wrung her hands dramatically.

I leaned against the upstairs railing, looking down at the scene with mild annoyance. The mother-daughter duo were terribly dramatic. "What's going on?"

"My jewels! I was robbed!" Luna cried out, wiping tears with her handkerchief. "My family heirloom was amongst it, now it's gone!"

I clicked my tongue in frustration, arms folding across the rail. Now that was serious, because her family heirloom was especially important to my father. It wasn't something they could simply give up on...

They were ransacking the entire house now, tearing through rooms, overturning furniture. Maids stood in a nervous cluster near the doors, wide-eyed and trembling.

I scanned the lineup briefly, barely paying attention.

Then I noticed.

Isolde wasn't there.

Still at the infirmary, probably, I thought. Omegas heal slowly.

Not that I should care.

It didn't take long for them to find one of Luna's diamond rings.

My father emerged from outside, holding the delicate jewel above his head. "Look at this." He announced and all eyes turned.

Luna gasped, rushing forward. "Where? Where did you find this?"

His eyes swept the room slowly, theatrically, before landing on the lineup of maids. Then with a frown:

"At the staff quarters."

The room went silent and I could tell that everyone was wondering who the perpetrator was.

Luna seemed furious. "Who? Which of you ungrateful wretches did it and where's the rest?!"

I straightened slightly, jaw tightening.

Harlan stepped forward from behind my father, expression troubled. "Ma'am, it was hidden in Isolde Corbin's belongings."

My brows furrowed. Coincidence or not?

My fingers curled around the railing.

"Who?" Luna probed.

"The one you punished to clean the stables, Mistress." Harlan pointed out. "Apparently, she hasn't been seen since this morning."

Since this morning?

That meant she'd been missing for hours. Why hadn't she gone to the infirmary?

"Find her! Search the grounds! I want that thief dragged before me!" Luna ordered.

Servants scattered like startled birds, rushing toward doors and hallways.

I stayed where I was, watching Camilla.

My stepsister stood there, looking far too interested in what was happening. The corner of her mouth twitched—not quite a smirk but close enough.

Isolde didn't strike me as the thieving type, but I didn't know her well enough to conclude that.

But if she was being framed, then I had a pretty good idea who was behind it.