Lycan's Second Mate

Chapter 4 – Lovers Behind the Door

For a few heartbeats, Martha couldn't move.

She stood outside the glass door, rain running down her face, staring at the two people tangled in the bed. Her mind refused to put the pieces together.

No. This isn't real.

Brian's hand slid over Linda's waist. Linda's nails traced lazy lines across his back. His mouth brushed her throat. Linda let out a soft laugh and pulled him closer.

Martha's stomach twisted.

She had come here thinking there had to be some hidden reason. A plan. A lie. Some pressure that forced him to reject her. Anything but this.

Not Linda. Not my own sister.

Her fingers dug into the stone of the balcony rail. Her breath fogged a faint patch on the glass. Inside, the room was warm and golden. Outside, the rain beat against her like cold claws.

Linda's voice floated through the crack between the doors.

“Why are you so distracted?" she murmured. “You keep spacing out."

Brian's shoulders stiffened for a second, then relaxed.

“I'm not distracted," he said. “You're imagining things."

Martha's heart squeezed. She pressed herself tighter against the wall, knowing she should leave, but unable to look away.

Linda twined a strand of his dark hair around her finger.

“Really?" she asked, teasing. “You're not thinking about Martha?"

Martha's breath hitched.

Brian's jaw tightened. For a moment, the muscles in his back went rigid under Linda's hands.

“No," he said flatly. “I'm not."

Linda hummed.

“She used to come here a lot," she said. “Climbing up to this balcony like a little thief. I always wondered what the two of you did in this room."

Brian rolled onto his side, putting a little space between them.

“Why are you bringing her up?" he asked.

“Because you're quiet," Linda replied. “When you're quiet, I know you're thinking. And when you think, it's usually about her."

Outside, Martha felt her throat close. The rain blurred Brian's face, but she could still hear every word.

Inside Brian's head, his wolf growled.

You should be thinking about her, the wolf snarled. Our mate is out there, suffering. And you're here, in bed with another.

Brian shut his eyes for a moment, trying to block out the voice.

“Drop it, Linda," he muttered. “Martha is gone."

Linda propped herself up on one elbow and studied him.

“She's not gone yet," she said. “She's still in this pack. She's still the one Alpha Davis wants."

“Alpha Davis will take her soon," Brian said. “Then this will be over."

Will it? his wolf snapped. Or will that be the day you finally break? You rejected your fated mate for status. You're a fool.

Brian clenched his teeth.

I did what I had to do, he answered inwardly. You don't understand. You only care about the bond.

I care about what matters, the wolf shot back. The Moon Goddess chose her for us. Instead, you chose Linda. Chosen mate. Empty words. No scent pull. No soul tie.

Brian ignored him and stared at Linda instead.

“I thought you'd be happy," he said. “This is what you wanted."

Linda's eyes softened. She traced a finger down his chest.

“I am happy," she said. “We're chosen mates. You picked me."

She emphasized the last words, a hint of pride in her voice.

“No one forced you, Brian," she went on. “Not my father. Not yours. They gave you options. You could have refused. You didn't. You chose me."

Outside, Martha pressed a hand over her mouth.

Chosen mates.

Inside, Brian's wolf let out a bitter laugh.

Listen to her, the wolf said. She's right about one thing. No one held a dagger to our throat. You did this.

Brian dragged a hand over his face.

“That doesn't mean it was easy," he muttered.

“Of course not," Linda said. “Losing a fated mate is painful. But you said it yourself—this is the best path for everyone."

Her fingers tightened on his arm.

“You'll be alpha one day," she reminded him. “My father promised. With me as your Luna. No one in this pack will outrank us."

He remembered that afternoon in Alpha Taylor's office—the maps spread across the table, the low murmur of strategy as the alpha spoke about borders, rogues, and rival packs. Taylor's dark eyes had weighed him in silence before he finally laid out the bargain: if Brian agreed to marry Linda, he would groom him as his successor, give him his full support, his warriors, his territory, his name.

If you marry Linda, he had said, you'll be my successor. You'll have my full support. My warriors. My territory. My name.

Brian had imagined it so many times—standing on the hill, the pack bowing their heads, feeling the weight of power settle on his shoulders.

All of that… or Martha.

His wolf snarled again.

You're thinking like a politician, not a wolf.

A flash of guilt burned through Brian's chest.

He remembered Martha in the basement, chained and shaking, still begging him to run with her. The look in her eyes when he said Linda's name. The way her body had arched in agony when he rejected her.

His stomach twisted.

Linda pulled him back with a kiss to his shoulder.

“Don't look like that," she said lightly. “You're not the villain here."

Brian let out a rough breath.

“Aren't I?"

“You made a choice for the pack," she said. “For your family. For our future. Martha never understood duty. She's too soft. Too emotional."

His wolf bristled.

She is stronger than you will ever be, the wolf growled.

Brian bit back his response.

Linda stroked his cheek.

“Besides," she added, “Martha isn't alone. Alpha Davis will take care of her. He's powerful. Rich. She'll live like a queen in his territory."

“Alpha Davis is old," Brian said. “And cruel."

Linda shrugged.

“She'll be fine," she said. “She always lands on her feet. You and I… we're the ones who need to think ahead. Think about the pack."

You mean think about yourself, Brian's wolf hissed.

Linda shifted closer, pressing her body against his.

“Don't think about her," she whispered. “Think about me."

Brian forced himself to focus on the woman in front of him. Linda was beautiful—everyone said so. Golden hair, soft skin, a smile that could charm a room.

But his wolf stayed silent now, sulking in the back of his mind.

With Martha, the wolf said quietly, we both spoke. You and I wanted the same thing. Do you remember how that felt?

Brian clenched his hands in the sheets.

Stop, he ordered. It's done. I can't go back.

The wolf bared its teeth.

Not yet, the wolf said. But one day, you'll beg for a second chance.

Linda kissed him again, trying to drag his thoughts away. He kissed her back, but his heart felt hollow.

A faint sound cut through the rain.

Brian stiffened.

Linda drew back. “What is it?"

He held up a hand, listening.

There it was again—a soft scrape, like stone against stone, muffled by the storm.

“Probably just the wind," Linda said, tugging at him.

Brian frowned and sat up.

“No," he said. “It sounded like something on the balcony."

Linda sighed, annoyed.

“Brian, it's pouring. No one is out there."

His wolf perked up, ears pricking.

Go look, the wolf urged. Now.

Brian swung his legs off the bed and grabbed the pants lying on the chair. He pulled them on quickly, ignoring Linda's pout.

“You're overreacting," she said. “Come back to bed."

“Give me a minute," he replied, moving toward the curtains.

Outside, Martha backed away from the glass, heart racing. In her panic, her heel knocked against a small metal lantern on the balcony floor. It tipped and rolled, bumping into the stone rail with a dull clink.

Inside the room, Brian heard it clearly.

He yanked the curtains aside and unlocked the balcony door.

The cold slammed into him as he stepped out. Rain hit his bare chest like needles. For a second, he saw nothing but gray and the blur of water.

Then a shadow moved at the edge of the balcony.

“Martha?" he breathed.

The figure spun, dark hair whipping. For an instant, her face turned toward him. Even through the rain, he recognized the eyes—the hurt, the shock, the disbelief.

His heart lurched into his throat.

“Martha, wait—"

But she was already moving.

She vaulted over the balcony rail. His stomach dropped as she disappeared from sight.

“Martha!"

He rushed to the edge, gripping the slick stone. Below, he saw her land hard, stumble, then push herself up and run, her small figure vanishing into the curtain of rain.

His wolf let out a raw, furious howl inside him.

You did this, the wolf roared. You broke her, and now she's running into the storm alone.

Brian stood frozen on the balcony, rain soaking him to the bone, eyes fixed on the place where Martha had vanished.

Behind him, Linda's voice floated out, sharp with confusion.

“Brian? What's going on? Who was that?"

He didn't answer.

He knew exactly who it was.

And for the first time since he made his choice, the weight of it crashed down on him like the storm itself.