The Morning I Chose Myself
1485 Words
Sage’s POV
I woke to the feeling of softness beneath me.
For a moment, I didn’t open my eyes. Some part of me wanted to stay suspended in that gentle fog between sleep and waking, where nothing hurt and nothing demanded anything from me. My head still throbbed, but it wasn’t the violent pounding from the night before. This ache was dull, almost forgiving, as if my body was slowly letting go of the punishment I’d put it through.
Then awareness crept in slowly
The sheets didn’t smell like my room, they didn’t smell like the pack house either.
The air was clean, expensive and comforting in a way I wasn’t used to.
My eyes fluttered open.
The ceiling above me made absolutely no sense. It wasn’t cracked or stained from years of neglect like the one in my room. It was smooth, high, painted a soft cream color that looked carefully chosen. My heart skipped.
This was not home.
I pushed myself up slowly, scanning the room. Everything felt wrong—too polished, too elegant, too far removed from the life I knew. The bed, the furniture, even the curtains screamed money.
Memories rushed back in fragments.
The street, the monster who chased me.
The man.
I couldn’t remember everything, but one image clung stubbornly to my mind—the way he carried me like I weighed nothing, like I mattered. The way the streetlight caught his face when we stepped into the open.
His eyes and his body was built differently.
The quiet authority in his presence.
My stomach flipped as another memory surfaced. The bed. His necklace catching on my torn dress. The slight stumble. His lips brushing mine—briefly, accidental, but enough to send heat flooding through me even now.
Why does everywhere suddenly feel hot?
“Room service!”
The knock startled me back into reality.
I tried to stand, but dizziness washed over me. I steadied myself, then forced my legs to move toward the door.
That was when it clicked.
This wasn’t his house.
It was a hotel.
A woman stood outside, smiling warmly. “Good morning, ma’am. How did you enjoy your night?”
I nodded, not trusting my voice. I had hoped—foolishly—that he would be standing there instead.
“Where’s he?” I asked.
“The man who brought you?” she clarified.
“Yes.”
“He left very early this morning.” Disappointment settled in my chest before I could stop it. “He asked me to give you this.”
She handed me a tray. On it sat breakfast, a thick bundle of cash, and a red dress folded neatly beside it.
I carried everything inside, my fingers brushing over the fabric. The dress was beautiful, elegant. Nothing like what I wore back at the palace.
Despite being an Alpha’s mate.
Cyrus had never bought me anything like this. Never bothered to learn my taste. Or my size.
The realization cracked something open inside me.
As the woman turned to leave, I stopped her. “Please… do you have his name? Or his number? Anything?”
She shook her head apologetically. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I can’t help you with that.”
I nodded, disappointment settling deeper.
Back in the room, I slipped into the dress—and froze.
It fit perfectly.
How did he even know my size?
My mate of five years didn’t.
For a moment, I considered running. I had money, a chance and a way out.
But my mother’s face rose in my mind.
Cyrus wouldn’t let me leave without consequences. And he would make sure she paid for it.
I couldn’t do that to her.
So I dressed, took one last look at the room, and returned to the pack house before anyone could question my absence.
When I arrived, my heart sank.
He was there.
Leaning against the wall like he owned the place. Like he had every right to wait for me.
My mate.
His face twisted with irritation—not concern.
“Where the hell were you?” he snapped. “I’ve been waiting for hours. You didn’t answer your phone. Who gave you the right to leave without—”
I walked past him, I didn’t slow down or look back.
For the first time in my life, I let him speak to empty air.
“Sage!” He grabbed my arm.
I yanked it back so hard he blinked.
“I’m not doing this,” I said, my voice trembling—but firm. “Not anymore.”
He scoffed. “Stop this nonsense before I lose it.”
I stopped walking.
Then I turned around slowly.
Something burned inside me—something I’d buried for years.
I walked back toward him.
But I wasn’t the Sage he used.
When I stopped in front of him, his smirk widened, like he expected an apology.
Instead, I met his eyes and said calmly,
“No. You know what?”
Confusion flickered across his face.
“Reject me.”
The shock was instant—and satisfying.
I didn’t flinch. Didn’t waver.
“Reject me,” I repeated. “Right now.”
Cyrus froze. The words hung in the air, heavier than anything I’d ever said to him. I watched his eyes flicker—anger, disbelief, a trace of something I didn’t recognize. Shock had stolen his usual composure.
“You… what did you just say?” His voice was low, dangerous, trembling at the edges with an emotion I couldn’t place.
“I said… reject me.” I didn’t flinch. I didn’t look away. “I’m done pretending. I’m done letting you decide what I’m worth. Right now, right here, reject me.”
He took a step closer, and for the first time, I realized the height of his authority, the raw presence of his Alpha power. But I didn’t back down. I couldn’t.
“You think you can walk away from me?” he growled. “From everything we are?”
“I don’t think. I know,” I said, steady despite the pounding of my heart. “You’ve never seen me as more than… what you need. And I… I need to see myself.”
He paused, and in that pause, I caught the faintest trace of hurt beneath the anger. His hands clenched at his sides, jaw tight. “You have no idea what you’re doing,” he said, voice low, dangerous, but… less certain than usual.
“I know exactly what I’m doing,” I replied. “And it starts with me—choosing me, not you. Not anyone. Especially not you.”
The streets around the pack house seemed suddenly too quiet. Even the wind held its breath.
“You think leaving will make this easy?” Cyrus finally spat the words, each one sharp as a knife. “You think you can just… reject me and walk away from the consequences?”
I swallowed. I did. I knew he could make things hellish. I had seen glimpses of his power, the way the pack obeyed, the way fear followed him like a shadow. But for the first time, I didn’t care.
“I’d rather face the consequences than keep living like a ghost in my own life,” I said.
His eyes darkened further. He stepped back, a flicker of restraint flashing in his posture, like he was forcing himself to think. “You’re mine,” he said finally. Low, heavy, threatening.
“I’m mine,” I whispered back. And then, for emphasis, louder: “Not yours.”
Cyrus’s expression flickered violently, and I knew I had struck a nerve. He opened his mouth, closed it, then stepped closer again. But before he could speak, my mind drifted back to the red dress, the bundle of money, the memory of the man who saved me. The stranger. The one who had reminded me I could *be protected* without fear.
And that thought… it gave me strength.
Cyrus noticed the hesitation. “Who… who is he?” he demanded. His voice was sharp now, dangerous, suspicious.
“I don’t know,” I said softly, feeling the truth. “All I know is… he helped me. And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel… trapped.”
Cyrus’s nostrils flared. I could sense the storm building inside him, but for once, I felt no fear. Not fully.
“You think someone else can save you from me?” he hissed.
“I don’t need saving,” I said firmly. “I just need… to breathe.”
For a long moment, we stood there, eyes locked, the night holding its breath. And then, slowly, reluctantly, he stepped back. Not surrendering. Not forgiving. But pausing.
And I realized… this was the first c***k in the armor I’d lived under for five years.
The game had changed.
- Writer
