I don't come back to my Alpha again

The heavy iron gates of the Red Moon Pack’s forbidden grounds groaned open.

I stepped past the rusted bars, squinting against the harsh afternoon sun. Five years in the dark, damp caves had ruined my vision.

Marcus leaned against the hood of his black SUV. My husband. The Alpha.

"You look like trash, Bella," Marcus said, his voice flat.

I kept my mouth shut.

"I thought the rogues would have finished you off by now," he continued, crossing his muscular arms. "But you always were stubborn."

"Open the car door," I said.

Marcus didn't move. He smirked, stepping closer. "You missed a lot while you were locked away. Rebecca stayed by my side the entire five years. Every single day. Every single night."

I pressed my left hand firmly against my right bicep. Two days ago, a rogue wolf had pinned me against the boundary rocks. I snapped its neck, but not before its jaws tore through my muscle. The wound burned under my ruined shirt.

"She really blossomed," Marcus bragged, his eyes searching my face for a reaction. "Her body is flawless now. And in bed? She is incredible. She knows exactly how to please me. She begs for me in ways you never did."

If this were five years ago, I would have screamed. The proud, spoiled Alpha female inside me would have thrown a punch, summoned my wolf, and torn the parking lot apart.

Instead, I looked at his expensive shoes.

"Got it," I said.

Marcus frowned. His jaw tightened. "What did you say?"

"I said, got it," I repeated, my tone entirely empty. "Can we leave now? My arm is bleeding."

He stared at me, clearly disappointed that I hadn't thrown a tantrum. He yanked the passenger door open. "Get in."

The drive back to the Pack House passed in silence. I stared out the window, carefully guarding my injured arm against the bumps in the road.

When Marcus parked the SUV, he turned off the engine and glared at me. "Kevin is inside. Don't cause a scene."

"He's my son," I muttered.

"He's fifteen now," Marcus snapped. "He knows exactly what you did."

I shoved the door open and climbed out.

The Pack House loomed in front of me. The massive white pillars and double oak doors looked exactly the same. We walked inside. The familiar scent of pine cleaner and lemon polish hit my nose.

I stopped at the base of the grand staircase. My fingers grazed the polished wooden banister.

"Take your shoes off," Marcus ordered from behind me. "Don't track dirt on the rug."

I didn't hear him. The sight of those stairs pulled me violently into the past. The voices from ten years ago echoed in my ears, loud and sharp.

"“Marcus?”" I had called out that afternoon. "“Rebecca?”"

The three of us had been best friends since childhood. We shared everything.

I remembered pushing open the master bedroom door.

"“Oh, Marcus, yes,”" Rebecca moaned.

Naked limbs. Sweaty skin. Tangled together