The Day He Chose Her
1205 Words
The bond strikes like a physical blow to the chest.
Not a whisper. Not a tug. Not a fleeting spark.
A violent, searing snap that rips the air from my lungs and sends my knees threatening to buckle.
The Alpha Council Hall freezes. Every head turns. Every wolf inside senses it. The chandeliers sway, crystals clinking as if even the building itself knows that something has been claimed tonight, something that cannot be unclaimed.
Across the marble floor, Rowan Hale freezes. Alpha billionaire. Sovereign of the Virex pack. A man whose name alone bends not only markets but bloodlines.
My mate.
The connection hums between us, raw, undeniable, impossibly alive. My wolf surges inside me, claws scraping at my ribs in excitement and fear.
There. That’s him.
The one who was always mine.
I can feel Rowan’s shock. I feel his hunger. His restraint. The flinch of desire he fights to hide. Every instinct in his body, every ounce of his Alpha power, screams that he knows, he knows.
And then… he turns away.
My stomach drops.
He walks past me as if I’m invisible, as if the bond pulsing violently between us doesn’t exist. And he stops before Maris Vale, my sister.
She lifts her chin with the poise I never had the luxury of learning, golden hair catching the light, a smile practiced and sharp. She’s ready. Confident. Radiant. Expecting this.
Rowan takes her hand, firm and deliberate, and the entire hall holds its breath.
“I have made my decision,” his voice rings through the council chamber, low, steady, Alpha-commanding. “For the stability of the Virex Dominion and the future of our alliances, I choose Maris Vale as my Luna.”
I feel the words like ice water pouring down my spine.
No.
The bond screams in protest, claws of fire tearing through my chest. My wolf howls, confused and furious.
This isn’t how it’s supposed to happen.
This isn’t fate.
Around us, the council exhales. Relief. Satisfaction. Calculations made and approved. Politics, cold and precise, smothering instinct and desire.
Maris’s fingers tighten around Rowan’s. “I accept,” she says, voice smooth and rehearsed.
Applause erupts. Loud, enthusiastic, and crushing.
My mother presses a hand to her heart, eyes shining with pride. My father inclines his head, approving. Neither looks at me. Not once.
I am invisible.
I stand there while the mate I have carried in my soul binds himself to my sister. The bond between Rowan and me rages, alive and unbroken.
He feels it. He knows.
And yet he chooses her.
The weight of understanding hits me harder than any physical blow. Rejection… hurts. But erasure? Erasure cuts deeper.
I turn sharply and walk out of the council chamber, ignoring the whispers, ignoring the stunned glances. My spine is straight, my chest tight, but my hands shake. No one stops me. No one steps in.
---
The corridor is cold and echoing, moonlight slicing through the tall windows. I lean against the stone wall, pressing my hands to my chest as the bond pulses violently, fierce, alive, demanding attention.
He was ours, my wolf murmurs, trembling. He still is.
“I know,” I whisper, though it barely feels true.
Footsteps approach. Measured. Calm. Dangerous.
I do not turn. I know who it is. The Alpha presence that makes the air heavier, the kind of presence that bends rooms to him without moving a muscle.
“You should not have left,” Rowan says.
I let out a laugh that tastes like bitterness and smoke. “I wasn’t invited to stay.”
His stride is long and controlled, and suddenly he is close enough for me to feel the heat radiating off him, the raw command in his presence. “This was necessary,” he says.
“Necessary?” I snap, turning to face him. “You felt it. Don’t insult me by pretending you didn’t.”
His dark eyes flash with a storm I thought only I could see. “I felt it,” he admits.
The words punch the air from my lungs.
“And still,” I whisper, “you chose her.”
“Maris is the safer choice,” he says, voice low, unyielding.
“For whom?” My voice shakes despite the steel I try to summon. “You?”
“For everyone.”
I stare at him, my chest tight. “You don’t get to call this noble.”
A c***k of hesitation flits across his jaw. His control falters, brief, almost imperceptible. “You think choosing you wouldn’t have consequences?” he snaps. “You think the council would accept it? The alliances your bloodline cannot secure?”
“So it’s about power,” I say quietly, tasting bitterness like bile.
“It’s about survival,” he counters.
“Choosing me would have meant honesty. Choosing me would have meant courage,” I bite back.
“Choosing you,” he murmurs, voice dropping to something intimate and dangerous, “would have started a war that could consume every pack under my protection.”
Silence falls, thick and suffocating.
I search his face for regret, something sharp enough to pierce his armor. I find none.
“What happens to me now?” I ask.
His mouth hardens. “You will be provided for.”
The words hollow me.
“I am not a liability.”
“You are,” he says, low and certain. “And that is why I cannot choose you.”
Something inside me breaks. Clean. Final.
I step back. “Then we are done.”
His hand twitches, like he wants to reach for me, like he might undo all of this, but he doesn’t.
“This is the last conversation we can have,” he says.
I nod once. “I know.”
I turn away before he can see the tears burning behind my eyes.
---
Night falls heavy as a shroud.
My chambers feel smaller than ever, the walls pressing in. The bond between Rowan and me refuses to quiet, pulsing like a living thing. I curl on the edge of my bed, pressing my hand to my chest as the ache rips through me.
Then it happens.
A sharp cramp twists low in my abdomen, sudden, fierce. I gasp, stumbling upright, nausea lurching through me.
“No,” I whisper. “No, this can’t, ”
Another wave hits, stronger. Heat floods my veins. Different from the bond. Older. Stranger.
I stumble to the bathing chamber, barely making it before I vomit.
When I lift my head, the reflection staring back at me is strange. Pale skin. Eyes unnaturally bright. And a faint golden glow beneath my ribs.
My wolf freezes.
Nyssa…
I follow her gaze downwards.
The realization slams into me like a storm:
Not rejection.
Not despair.
Life.
The bond pulses, strong, undeniable.
Life inside me.
Rowan doesn’t know. No one does.
And if they find out…
A sharp knock slices through the quiet.
“Nyssa,” my mother calls, voice clipped, urgent. “We need to speak.”
I step back from the mirror, heart hammering, one thought screaming louder than any fear or pain:
What is happening to me?
- Writer
