Chapter 3

Dad lay in the hospital bed, his hand—veined and calloused from years of battle—gripped mine with desperate strength.

A single tear slipped from the corner of his eye, carving through my heart like a searing blade.

He had once been the fiercest Lead Warrior of the Fleming Pack. Now he couldn’t even form a single coherent sentence. His lips trembled with each labored breath, as if every exhale carried a shard of pain.

I hated Alpha Chandler.

Hated his cold blood.

Hated his betrayal.

But most of all, I hated that a part of me still hesitated.

And yet—looking into my father's eyes, I saw a flicker of stubborn hope, small but unyielding.

I couldn’t turn away.

I had to confront Alpha Chandler.

He had gone too far, and he would pay for every sin he’d committed.

The moment I stormed into the Pack House, I was hit not by the scent of power and authority—but by something sickly sweet and nauseating.

Jacqueline was straddling Alpha Chandler on his chair, wearing nothing but his dress shirt. Her long, pale legs rested shamelessly on the desk. Her collar was loose, baring the bruises and bite marks from their recent intimacy. The room reeked of lust, and clothes were scattered like battle remnants.

And Chandler—this man who once whispered mate bond vows against my skin—didn’t even flinch at my arrival.

He lit a cigarette with maddening calm, took a long drag, and blew the smoke straight into my face.

I bit my lower lip so hard I tasted blood, forcing back the tears that threatened to spill.

“Well, look who it is—my ex-Luna. What’s the performance today? Hoping a little teary-eyed drama will get your little wolf account unfrozen?” Chandler sneered, his eyes gleaming with mockery.

Jacqueline, nestled against his chest, lifted her chin with smug amusement.

“Did Mommy die? Oh wait—she’s not dead yet, is she? You ran all the way here to beg for hospital bills?”

Without a word, I pulled the critical condition notice from the Northern Recovery Clinic and slapped it onto Chandler’s chest.

“Read the name on it. Look closely.”

But Chandler didn’t even glance at it.

He stepped on the paper with a boot, then raised his hand—

Smack!

A sharp, burning slap landed across my face. I crashed to the ground, ears ringing from the force of it.

“So dramatic. Props and everything now? Should’ve known your face was only good for crying. I should’ve picked Jacqueline as my Luna from the start,” he scoffed, flicking his cigarette. The ember landed near my foot, almost singeing through my clothes.

I pushed myself up on trembling hands, blood streaking my cheek as I shouted, “You don’t want to save your adoptive parents—fine. But what gives you the right to treat me like this?! They raised you!”

Chandler snarled, his voice sharp as frost.

“Don’t use that excuse on me. You were never a clean Omega to begin with.”

Then he shoved me to the floor and pinned me down with a knee, the cold tiles biting into my back.

Jacqueline sauntered over, heels clicking like fangs on stone. She ground the sharp toe of her shoe against my cheek.

“No matter how pitiful you act, you’re just a discarded Luna. What right do you have to scream in this house?”

I struggled, but Chandler bound my wrists with silver chains that burned against my skin.

He looked down at me with cold amusement.

“You want money? Stay. Watch how Jacqueline pleases me. Learn what it means to serve a real Alpha.”

I nearly choked on my own humiliation. The mate bond still lingered faintly inside me—but his cruelty sliced through it like a blade through flesh.

“Alpha Chandler, you’re insane! I’m your legal Luna! How dare you—!”

“Legal?” Jacqueline laughed so hard she nearly doubled over. “The Elder Council already stripped you of that title. You’re just a nobody now—an Omega no one wants.”

She kicked me in the stomach, and pain exploded through my body like fire. I curled in on myself, cold sweat pouring down my spine.

“Alpha, don’t leave this eyesore here. She’s ruining the mood,” Jacqueline cooed, sliding her fingers down Chandler’s chest. “Come back to our new nest. I lit a fresh batch of rosewood candles just for you~”

Chandler pulled her into his arms but didn’t smile. His eyes were dark and unreadable.

“No,” he said. “She won’t leave so easily.”

They turned, leaving me crumpled on the floor like a broken wolf.

Then—

His communicator crystal rang.

He answered it with an annoyed grunt, putting it on speaker.

A voice drifted through, weak and raspy—but unmistakably familiar.

“Chandler…”

Chandler froze.

For three whole seconds, he stood in stunned silence.

Then he whispered, almost in disbelief—

“Dad? Why are you calling me from an unknown line?”