Marrying the Wolf King Behind My Ex-Fiancé's Back

Chapter 6

Nate was teasing me again.

But beneath his playful jabs, he’d let slip a promise—he’d return to the Rose Pack to face me in person. I set my phone down, leaving his last message unanswered.

At the same moment, in the nation’s capital—the heart of the werewolf royal court—Nate clutched his own phone, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. He glanced at the screen a few times, noting the silence from my end, then casually grabbed a nearby soda can and lobbed it at the back of a man crouched on the floor.

“Done yet? We’re leaving,” he said.

Jax, incredulous, rubbed his back and spun around to protest. “What’s the rush? We just caught this guy—you’re not gonna deal with him first?”

On the ground lay an unconscious figure, hands half-bound with rope from Jax’s efforts. The man stirred slightly, his eyes cracking open in a furious glare. His mouth, taped shut by Jax, muffled whatever curses he aimed at them, but the venom was clear.

Nate strode over without a hint of mercy, delivering a few sharp kicks until the man slumped back into oblivion. Only then did he answer Jax. “I’m heading out. Strip him naked, dump him at his family’s doorstep, and tip off the press—make sure they’re there to snapshots Drake won’t forget. Oh, and write the number six on him.”

Jax blinked. “Six?”

“The total of times I’ve been ambushed lately.”

Jax shook his head wildly. “You’re not grabbing the others? Pinning it all on Drake’s clan?”

“Yep.”

Since Nate claimed the Wolf King’s throne, the nation’s oldest families have bristled—some openly, others in the shadows—resenting his rule. They dragged their feet on his orders, biding their time. His castle had been a fortress, untouchable, until his trip to the Rose Pack gave them an opening. Six assassination attempts in total, and Nate had not only survived but interrogated every attacker, tracing each hit back to its source. Jax, his loyal shadow, knew it all—had even handled the dirty work himself.

After a beat of shock, Jax pieced it together. Nate wasn’t about to waste energy warning every family individually. Too tedious. Not his style. Humiliating Drake—the loudest thorn in his side—would send the message. The others, seeing Drake and his Darkmoon Clan shamed, would at least feign respect.

Nodding, Jax hoisted the limp Drake and headed out, a flicker of pity crossing his mind. Poor bastard. Why’d Drake keep poking Nate? Back when they were Alpha candidates, Drake never once bested Nate—not in a fight, not in strategy. Even now, as Wolf King, Nate towered over him, yet Drake clung to his grudge, whining that Nate’s late entry into the candidacy broke some sacred rule—never mind that if Nate had been there from the start, Drake would’ve just taken more beatings.

Jax hadn’t forgotten his own early defiance as a candidate. Nate had pummeled him into submission too—the memory of those fists still lingered.

“Hey, where are you off to in such a hurry?” Jax called, tossing Drake into the car. Realizing he didn’t know where to meet Nate after that, he jogged back—only to catch a fleeting glimpse of Nate’s wolf form streaking into the dusk.

Nate’s voice carried back in the wind. “Rose Pack.”

Jax grinned, touched. His wolf king hadn’t forgotten him—answering even as he bolted. But the Rose Pack again? He’d just been there.

Then it hit him. Layla—the only one Nate had gotten “close” to there. Jax’s face twisted in horror. What if the Wolf King’s kink was stealing his men’s wives?

He’d stumbled onto a hell of a secret.

......

The sun dipped low, painting the sky in hues of amber. Evening settled in.

I left the forest, a moonstone cradled in my hand, and stepped into a shop. “Could you turn this into a pendant necklace?” I asked the clerk.

I’d found the stone years ago while patrolling. My blood had saved a dying fawn, and its grateful mother had brought me this gift. In pack lore, moonstones held the power of light and rebirth, but no one had ever seen it proven. Over time, they’d become trinkets wolves ignored in the wild.

I didn’t buy that they were just rumors. And I trusted the instincts of the forest’s creatures.

Owen’s birthday was in two days. I wanted this stone by his side—a faint hope that it might stir him awake. Since I turned sixteen, Henry had barred me from seeing my brother, claiming he remained comatose. My only link to Owen was his annual birthday, the one time Henry let me reach out.

As the clerk worked on the necklace, my phone buzzed.

*Happy birthday.*

Sent at 7:20 PM. From Nate.

I’d nearly forgotten—today was my birthday too. July 20th.

I looked up at the clerk. “Sorry, could you split the moonstone into two pendants instead?”

“Sure,” she said, though she added sheepishly that it’d take longer—too late to finish today. I’d need to pick them up later.

I left the shop, heading “home”—a place I didn’t belong, tied to people who shared my blood but not my heart.

The streets grew brighter as I walked, and familiar faces emerged from the glow. Jack, dressed sharply in a suit, hair slicked back, a woman’s coat draped over his arm. His hand clasped a girl’s.

No surprise—it was Seraphina.

They beamed, lost in some private joke. Jack’s grin stretched ear to ear; Seraphina giggled, leaning into him, her body soft against his. Her hips brushed his groin with blatant intent.

Just as their lips nearly met, a sharp cough cut through.

“Ahem.”

They sprang apart, smoothing their clothes, eyes darting nervously to find the source. When Jack spotted me, his brow furrowed. “Layla? What, are you stalking me and Seraphina?”