CHAPTER 22: CHAPTER 22: SEVERING THE BOND

Furious and anguished, my wolf bares her canines and growls at me.

If she could physically attack me, I’m sure she would.

The guilt and doubt I’ve been trying to push away surge through me all at once.

My claws retract, along with my will to kill Damian. Tears spill from my eyes, forcing Damian to stop kissing me.

"What happened?" he asks, worry filling his voice.

I slide down from his grip and collapse onto the floor, shaking like a leaf.

Damian is still my fated mate, and even though I wanna free myself from our bond so I can fully focus and protect my connection with Alpha Torrin and his well-being, I can’t do it like this!

Damian kneels and pulls me into his arms. "I’m sorry if I scared you again. It’s just really hard to control my wolf’s desire."

Yeah, it’s always our wolf’s desires that overpower us. I guess I need to free myself first from our bond before I can fulfill what must be fulfilled. If he dies this way, then at least... or I hope guilt won’t eat me up as much as it does now.

I whisper "I’m sorry" inside my mind like a desperate mantra. Then I cup Damian’s face, kiss his lips one last time, and terrifyingly force the words out.

"I, Harleigh Hale, reject you, Damian Chandler, as my fated mate."

My wolf roars in fury again, but she can no longer stop anything.

Damian’s eyes widen in disbelief. He then clutches his chest and groans in agony as the rejection takes hold.

"Medics! Please!" I scream, panic choking my voice.

Gammas and Omegas rush into the room, frantically lifting Damian and carrying him towards the hospital as fast as they can.

I try to follow, but an excruciating pain whips through my entire body too.

When I rejected Lance, it never hurt like this. Maybe because he wasn’t my fated mate, and because I felt no hesitation when severing our bond back then unlike now?

It takes a while when the pain eases just enough for me to stumble after them to the hospital.

A nurse gives me medicine to help calm the remaining ache, and I sink onto a chair in the hallway outside the ICU where Damian is at.

I thought that once the bond slowly disappears, the guilt and regret will too.

However,...

It isn’t the case. The guilt and regret of possibly killing him with my rejection remains, and only amplifies with every second passes.

As I anxiously wait for an update on Damian’s condition, Atticus arrives.

Apprehension is flickering across his face, and his movements are tense and rigid.

He tries to shove his way into the ICU to see Damian, but the nurses block him at the door.

When he notices me, his eyes darken. Anger replaces every trace of apprehension.

He grabs my collar, and yanks me out of the chair so hard my feet barely touch the floor.

"I was told you were the last and only person he was with before this happened! What did you do to him?!" he demands.

I swallow and manage to answer weakly, "I rejected him."

His eyes widen in shock. Then he slams me against the wall and tightens his hand around my neck, restricting my breath.

Nurses and patients nearby watch in horror, some with worry, while the Gammas with smug satisfaction. And no one dares to interfere.

"I let you live because Damian begged me to! I let you live so he wouldn’t get hurt and grow weak! I should’ve killed you too, so you’d never get the chance to kill my son!"

-Rejecting a mate is worse than losing one to death. Rejection can kill, but getting your mate killed won’t.-

I wanna rub on Atticus’ face that I know everything: his betrayal of our deal and Damian’s involvement with the multi-eyed seer’s elixir. But I keep my mouth shut. I can’t risk hinting at my plan to overthrow him and restore Alpha Torrin to power.

I force a lie out, "I... w-was only trying... to save D-Damian... from the s-same faith Alpha Torrin got... for ch-choosing me... over everything else."

My vision blurs as consciousness slips away.

I kick at him, clawing at his arm in a desperate attempt to free myself.

Until,...

The doctor finally appears.

"Beta Damian’s vitals are very weak. We need to monitor him closely, because he may die if his wolf can’t recover the strength he lost," the doctor says.

Atticus’ grip on my neck loosens, before throwing me to the floor like garbage.

I wheeze, clutching my throat as I crawl away from him.

"Lock that girl in jail! Now!" he commands.

At this point, I don’t even feel fear for myself. The only fear consuming me is for Damian’s life.

Two Gammas grab me by the arms and drag me toward the pack’s filthy prison.

My cell has no window, and the only light comes from a flickering bulb that looks like it’s about to die. The air is damp, the walls smell of mold, and the silence makes me realize that my wolf has become non-existent again.

I sink into the corner, pull my knees to my chest, and let my tears fall freely, hoping the crying will numb even a small piece of the pain.

I’m so selfish for ever thinking about my own freedom and stop teetering between my mates, disregarding Damian’s possible demise.

Yes, he played a role in Alpha Torrin’s current condition, but he has never been cruel to me. If anything, he has always thought of me first, wanting what’s best for me, even if I disagree sometimes.

I’ve never regretted anything this deeply.

If Damian dies, I’ll blame myself for the rest of my life. But if he survives and overcomes my rejection, I’ll accept whatever punishment he gives as he doesn’t deserve my selfishness or my cruelty.

I’m sorry, Damian. If I could give up my life in exchange for yours, I will.

The hours crawl by painfully slow.

As I lie on the floor, Dr. Reyes walks into my cell, carrying a suitcase filled with bottles and syringes.

"I have to take as much blood as I need from you, as per Alpha Atticus’ order," she says. "He believes you may not survive much longer, so I must do whatever it takes to make the initial study of your blood a success."

She draws blood from both my arms, switching sides without pause or hesitation.

When she finally finishes, she gives me one last indifferent look, and leaves.

The amount of blood she took makes me even weaker. My limbs shake, and a low moan slips out of me uncontrollably.

More hours pass, but no food, not even a glass of water is offered to me.

I thought this was what Dr. Reyes meant when she said I might die soon.

But I’m wrong.

Two Gammas enter my cell, and hang me upside down from the ceiling using a thick chain.

I could’ve tried to use whatever strength I have left to beg for mercy, but the desire to finally die and end this agony is much stronger.

Using stingray tails, they whip me relentlessly, each strike cutting into my skin, bruising and tearing with the clear intent to kill me slowly and brutally.

Tears blur my vision as memories fill my mind: Harper, who still believes we’ll meet again; Alpha Torrin, whom I should help regain everything he has lost; and Damian, whom I wanna see one last time, just to apologize and to thank him for everything he has done for me.

The whipping continues until the pain fades into nothing, physically and mentally.

Soon, darkness takes me whole.

Am I dead? I don’t feel my heartbeat, nor my body at all.

But through the darkness, I see my wolf slowly taking shape. She stares at me looking sad and disappointed.

Then,...

Alpha Torrin appears too.

I call out to him, begging for help, though I can’t hear my own voice.

But,...

He doesn’t move. Instead, he turns away, walks back into the darkness, and disappears again.

Is this a sign of what’s coming? Is he gonna turn me down when I need him?

Subsequently,...

Damian appears next.

Shame burns through me, yet desperation pushes me to call out to him.

To my surprise, he runs toward me.

And,...

"Harleigh!"

His devastated voice pulls me back into consciousness.

The Gammas stand anxiously at the side, still holding the stingray tails.

I’m no longer hanging from the chains. I’m now in Damian’s arms, who’s still wearing a hospital gown, which means he came straight from the hospital just to save me from the brink of death.

"I’m so relieved... I didn’t kill you," I whisper, reaching for his face.

He takes my hand and kisses it, not with anger, but with pure longing and pain.

"I’m sorry," I murmur, my tears spilling down again.

"Don’t speak. Save your strength," he says weakly, fighting back his own tears. Though he struggles, he forces himself to lift me up. "I’m here now. You’ll be okay."