The Alpha’s Healer

Chapter4

Viktoria: Broken Beyond Words

“Viktoria?” says my mother. Her voice is pleading, as the door creaks open. She walks in. “At least eat something.”

I don’t even bother to lift my head from the damp pillow. My body feels like stone pressed into the mattress, my stomach hollowed out, unwilling to receive food. Since last night I haven’t tasted anything, not even water. My appetite is on vacation. No, my appetite died on that pavilion floor where Marco chose Kyra Conley.

“I’m not hungry,” I whisper hoarsely. My voice is dry, my head pounding with a stormy ache that never left me since the night shattered my life.

My mother hovers in the doorway for a moment longer, then sighs. I hear the soft shuffle of her feet retreating down the hall, and silence swallows me whole again.

Morning in the pack is alive outside my window. I hear the clang of smiths in their forges, children chasing one another in the dust, merchants setting up stalls. Life continues. Wolves laugh, they shout, they barter. But in here, time has stopped.

I roll onto my back, staring at the cracked ceiling. My heart thrashes wildly in my chest, full of questions that refuse to be quiet. It can’t be real. Marco wouldn’t do this to me, would be?

It still feels like I'm dreaming.

I push myself up, clutching my head. Maybe it’s a prank. Maybe last night was some twisted joke. Elon must be in on it too, that drunken fool. Maybe they wanted to humiliate me, but Marco will explain, he’ll fix this. He has to.

I can’t stay here. I drag on a simple dress, tugging the fabric over my shoulders with trembling hands, and slip out of the house.

The sunlight stings my swollen eyes as soon as I step into the main street. Whispers follow me as I walk in the street. Everyone knows about me already.

“There she is . . .”

“That poor girl thought she could be Luna?”

“Did she really believe she could rise above her station?”

“She should have known better. Marco belongs with women like Kyra Conley.”

Their eyes follow me as I walk. Fingers point, and lips curl in derision. They don’t bother to lower their voices, not even out of pity. I bow my head and quicken my pace to run away from the humiliation.

I keep walking, forcing my feet forward until I reach Elon’s workshop. The smell of coal and iron usually hangs thick here, but today, it’s strangely quiet. The forge is cold. The tools hang from the racks untouched.

“Elon?” I call softly, but there’s no answer.

Two omegas lounging nearby glance at me, uspicious eyes squinting at me. “You’re looking for Elon?” one asks.

“Yes,” I reply, warily. “Where is he?”

“At the council hall,” the other says.

“For what?”

They exchange a knowing look, then one chuckles before answering. “His confirmation.”

“Confirmation?” I shake my head, confused. “As what?”

“As Beta,” they say together, as if the answer should be obvious to me.

My knees turn to jelly. “No,” I whisper. “That’s . . . that’s not possible.”

But their smirks tell me it is. Marco, my Marco, who raged at me for supposedly kissing Elon, now crowns him Beta. The same Elon who stumbled drunk into me, who ruined everything. And Marco celebrates him while casting me aside?

I turn around, shame and confusion choking me, sending me fleeing from there. Back in my room, I collapse against the bed frame and sob until my throat feels like they're about to rip out of my neck.

Still, the thought festers in me like rot: ‘I need answers.’

So I gather myself, wrapping a shawl tightly over my head and face. If the pack sees me again, they’ll only shred me further with their words. Disguised, I slip through the streets toward the council hall.

When I arrive, the ceremony is ending. Laughter and congratulations drum through the chamber. Wolves clap Elon on the back, praising him, and Marco is standing among them, grinning proudly.

I gape at them from the shadows, watching the two men—friends again, like nothing ever happened. Marco leans in, speaking animatedly, his arm slung casually around Elon’s shoulders. They walk side by side toward the exit, toward Marco’s sleek black car waiting outside.

Why, Marco? Why him? Why not me?

I can’t stop myself. My legs begin to move on their own, carrying me forward. As they near the car, I step out of the shadows and call his name. “Marco!”

At first he doesn’t recognize me. His brows furrow as his eyes squint at me. Then, slowly, I pull the shawl away from my face. His lips wrinkle at the sides and he rolls his eyes.

“Are you stalking me now?” he asks in a flat, exhausted tone.

My lips tremble. “Why haven’t you spoken to me?”

“Because there’s nothing to talk about,” he says coldly.

“Yes, there is,” I press, desperation breaking through my voice. “Marco, what did I do to deserve this?”

He pauses, then steps closer, towering over me. His eyes are like pieces of steel. “You know what you did.”

“No, I don’t!” I cry. “I didn’t kiss Elon. He kissed me. I swear it. I tried to push him off, but he was drunk. You have to believe me.”

“That’s not the only thing you didn’t do,” Marco retorts. His lip twists in disdain. “You didn’t come from a rich home. You weren’t bred for this life. What we had—it was a mistake from the beginning.”

Something breaks inside me all over again. The air leaves my lungs all at once.

“But we’re fated,” I whisper. “What about our bond? You can’t just throw it away.”

“You broke the bond the moment you let another man touch you,” he says coldly.

“No,” I sob, shaking my head. “Please, Marco, don’t do this. Where do I even begin if not with you? Don’t leave me like this.”

Before he can respond, a woman’s voice from inside the car interrupts.

“Honey, who’s that?”

Kyra’s head pops out of the car window, her eyes wide and innocent.

Marco glances back at her, then returns his gaze to me with a look that kills what little hope I have left.

“Nobody,” he says.

He turns his back to me, and strides toward the car. Elon won’t even look at me—his eyes drop to the ground as if ashamed. He gets in the car too.

The engines roar to life, tires screeching as it spins in the gravel. Stones and dust spray against my dress, my legs, my face.

Through the window, Kyra Conley gave me a smug, triumphant smile. I am left standing in the dust, broken beyond words.