The Alpha Who Broke Me

Chapter 5

The room is quiet, but the silence wraps around me like an unwelcome shroud. I step inside my studio, the cool air greeting me like a ghost, whispers of night laced with the faint scent of paints and aged wood. It feels both safe and stifling, as if the walls bear witness to my every thought, every fractured feeling demanding release.

I close the door behind me, shutting out the world, though I know the pack is still laughing, still reveling in their delusions of grandeur. The oppressive atmosphere cloaks me, and a shiver runs down my spine. I’ve come here to hide, to find refuge from the gaze of Kael and the taunting smiles of Selena. But even in solitude, I can feel my heart thrumming with the chaos of my emotions—a raging storm on the brink of bursting free.

In a corner, my easel stands—unchanged, waiting, a solitary companion in this hushed space. I step towards it, instinct guiding me, and I take a deep breath, my chest tightening as I pick up the brushes that rest beside the palette. There’s no thought of beauty in my mind, no desire to create something magnificent. I need to purge. My hands move automatically, grasping the colors, smeared and dull, reflecting my inner turmoil.

As I press the brush against the canvas, the darkness pours out, furious strokes emerging from the chaos within me. Deep reds, shadowy blacks, harsh grays bleed together in frantic bursts. Each movement is cathartic—raw and uncontrolled, an external manifestation of my spiraling heart. My shoulders ache from tension, a heavy weight pressing against my chest as I struggle to breathe, feeling the exhaustion seep into my very bones. I am a tempest of feeling, consumed by memories of his touch, how he growled in my ear, how he held me close like I mattered.

But those tender moments are now tainted, stained by betrayal. The heat of love wrestles with the chill of humiliation as the bitterness of his public rejection slices through my mind. I lean into the canvas, the pressure in my chest building, my heart pounding unevenly like a desperate drum.

Kael's voice echoes in my mind—those whispered promises mingling with his cool indifference. “You’re Luna only because I allow it.” The sting of those words coils tightly around my throat, choking any remaining warmth I thought I might hold for him. And even as the anger brews within me, there is still that flicker of yearning for what we had, for the glances he stole when he thought no one watched, for the softness hidden beneath the cold shell he presented to the world.

Frustration wells up, and I drop the brush, running my fingers through my hair, willing myself to breathe. I move to the window, seeking air, searching for some semblance of clarity. As I draw back the curtain, night spills into the room—a velvet void punctuated by silver stars, each twinkle a promise of something beyond this pain.

I lean against the frame and glance down at the garden, the moonlight casting eerie shadows across the path. My breath catches in my throat, and I freeze—because there, beneath the pale glow of the moon, I see him. Kael stands with Selena. His posture is relaxed, dominant, as though he’s in complete command of the night, but it’s the way he holds her that paralyzes me.

His hand rests possessively on her waist, his body angled toward hers as he leans in. A casual intimacy radiates between them—an intimacy I once thought was ours alone. They share soft laughter, a sound that drips into my heart like poison. I grip the window frame as the room tilts beneath me, a dizzying realization hitting like a thunderclap.

This is not a political alliance. This is the connection I yearned for, a bond built on tenderness I believed I’d have, yet now see only mirrored in her. A wave of cold washes over me, freezing the very marrow in my bones, the air in my lungs suddenly sucked away. I feel my heart plummet, the taste of iron in my mouth—my once-clear affection morphing into a storm of betrayal.

Their bodies draw closer, and he wraps his arm around her, pulling her in, his soft touch nothing like the demanding grip he often used on me. It tears through the remnants of my hope, a visceral reaction—shame, anger, emptiness crashing against my ribs. I retreat from the window, feeling unsteady, as though the ground beneath my feet has vanished. I grip the wall for support, my hands trembling.

A part of me cries out against the sharp edges of humiliation, furious at myself for believing in him. I realize, too late, that I was temporary. A passing flicker before the eternal flame of his chosen companion. The truth settles like a weight in my chest. If I stay here, I will be broken beyond repair, lost in the shadows of a new Moon, forever outshined.

But then, even amidst this wreckage of emotions, I find a nascent spark—the desire for freedom flickering defiantly in the darkness. I look back at the painting I was creating in my chaos, and for the first time, I see myself in it. Broken yet alive. I draw a shaky breath, clarity emerging from the pain as I consider what must be done.

I won’t be a silent specter in this life, subsisting beneath the weight of others’ choices. I think of the escape plan forming in my mind: the cover of night, the path through the back gate, a warm cloak wrapped tightly around me to shield from the cold. I will take only what I need, leaving behind the burdens of jewelry, symbols of a life I no longer want.

As I take the necklace off, it feels like a ritual—a farewell to the past I am shedding like an old skin. The air is thick as I tuck the trinket away, my heart pounding not just with fear, but with resolve. I tread through the darkened corridors of the house, the chill of the floor prickling my skin, each step a reminder of what I am leaving behind.

Every sound echoes in the silence, a danger lurking in every shadow, whispering threats as I approach the exit. My heart races, pounding out a warning, and part of me wants to turn back—to retreat to the warmth of what I knew, even if it is now a memory stained by heartbreak. But I won’t.

I take a last glance at the house—at the place I once thought was home—my stomach churning as the uncertainty churns within. I walk through the gate, and in that moment, I realize my departure is not an act of weakness but a choice for survival, for autonomy. I step into the night, breath fogging in the chill air, and I know, instinctively, that when Kael discovers I am gone, his Alpha instincts will awaken. The hunt will begin.

And for the first time, I’m not afraid. I am free.