Chapter 130
Paxton
The whiskey burned in my throat, but it did nothing to numb the ache in my chest. My body went rigid the moment I collided with her outside the restroom.
She appeared around the corner like a vision—Freya. Instinctively, my arms wrapped around her, pulling her against me with a possessiveness.
"Paxton." My name on her lips sent a jolt through my system.
Her body went rigid in my embrace, and I could feel the subtle shift in her scent— something new underlying her familiar scent that I couldn't quite identify.
"You smell different," I murmured against her temple, breathing her in. The alcohol made me bold, reckless. "There's something... new."
"You're drunk," she said, trying to create distance. "Let me go."
But I couldn't. Not when she was finally here, finally close enough to touch. The mark we once shared might be fading, but the connection still burned between us like a live wire.
"Why are you so good to Lucas?" The question tore from my throat before I could stop it. My wolf was snarling, demanding answers. "That Ferrari—a custom design."
I thought of that car. In five years of being my marked mate, she'd never given me anything so personal, so uniquely crafted.
"Bonds work both ways, Paxton," Freya replied coolly. "Lucas sees me as a unique Alpha. Naturally, I should give him something unique in return."
"In the past five years you've never truly put me in your heart, let alone treated me as unique. Forget it." Freya lowered her gaze, clearly having lost any desire to continue communicating.
"I drove that custom Maybach you gave me for two years," I said quietly, desperation creeping into my voice.
Her laugh was bitter, cutting. "Should I thank Alpha Paxton for not being disgusted by his mixed-blood mate's gift?"
"No, I'm just... unwilling to accept this." Suddenly, I stepped forward and grabbed her arm, gripping it tightly.
Freya winced in pain, frowning. "Let go of me!"
"Freya." I didn't release her, instead staring directly into her eyes with my dark gaze.
"I'm unwilling to accept this."
I almost wanted to say, "Freya, don't leave me." But when the words reached my lips, they hardened into that sentence instead.
In the end, I still couldn't bring myself to say the words of pleading.
But I was truly drunk.
I wanted to pull her into my arms, to feel her warm body temperature and sweet fragrance. Just like before, whenever I was drunk, she would always stay by my side, taking care of me.
Now I was actually beginning to miss that life from before.
Why couldn't things be like they used to be? Wouldn't it be good to go back to the past?
I felt somewhat confused, like a child trying to find a lost toy.
"I think you've lost your mind." Freya's tone was quite impatient, even carrying some disgust.
She struggled hard to shake off my hand.
But just then, a familiar and hateful exclamation came from behind her. "Freya, what are you doing?"
"You keep pestering Paxton like this—what about Alpha Lucas? Freya, are you really such a shameless person?" The person who came was naturally Lyra.
She strode forward and shoved Freya hard. My mate—former mate—stumbled backward, her hand flying instinctively to her abdomen in a protective gesture that made my wolf take notice.
"You say you're unwilling to accept this. Did you see? You don't even have the right to be unwilling," Freya said.
My expression darkened.
But Freya turned to leave, giving me no further opportunity.
My gaze followed her relentlessly, tracking every step as she moved away from me. I found myself clenching my fists so tightly my knuckles went white.
But I couldn't move.
I stood there like a statue, frozen by my own damned pride. That cursed arrogance that had always defined me, that had always been my armor—now it was my prison.
---
Hours later, I returned to my territory estate, my steps unsteady from both alcohol and emotional turmoil. Willow, our longtime Omega servant, greeted me at the door with worried eyes.
"Alpha, you seem... unsettled."
I moved through the familiar rooms like a ghost, catching phantom traces of a scent that shouldn't still linger. A slender but powerful shadow, I thought. Freya's presence still haunted these spaces.
"I'm fine," I managed.
Just then, the doorbell rang.
Willow had to go answer it, only to see Lyra standing there.
"Pax, you drank so much tonight. Are you feeling unwell? What can I do for you? Should I help you change clothes?" Lyra said.
I could see the calculation in her eyes, the way she looked at me with that pleasing smile while her gaze held a lustful gleam. She was thinking that since I was drunk, this would be the perfect opportunity for something to happen between us.
I sat on the sofa under the lamplight, my handsome face appearing exceptionally cold. I looked at Lyra.
Without question, she was beautiful too.
These past years, I had once wanted her. For her sake, I had even abandoned Freya.
But now that she was really here, was this what I truly wanted?
It was clearly her in front of me, yet the face that appeared in my mind was someone else entirely—not Lyra, but Freya.
Right now, the only person I thought about, the only person I wanted, was Freya.
Thinking of Freya made the pain in my heart even more pronounced, like a sword piercing through my chest, sharp and agonizing.
"Get out!" My tone was unusually harsh.
Lyra was completely stunned.
Unable to control herself, Lyra's eyes reddened and tears began streaming down her face.
"Pax, Have you forgotten the harm I suffered for you back then? You said you would mark me as your mate, you said you would love me and cherish me..."
She was crying pitifully, completely choked with sobs.
Her words made me momentarily dazed as I recalled those events.
Back then, as Sterling pack's heir, I had been targeted by rival factions. At thirteen, leaving school, I was in a staged car accident and taken to a remote compound.
I thought my life was over from that moment.
Just as I fell into despair, they brought in another girl, younger than me.
The girl had eyes as clear as water.
She was very clever.
In the end, it was she who led me to escape from that place.
We ran together, evading our pursuers.
"Don't worry, I won't turn you in. I'll take you away from here," the girl said, smiling with her eyes curved like crescents. "You have to trust me."
When we parted, the girl's eyes were full of tears. "Remember to find me, you must, must come find me."
"We promised."
At the very end, that angel-like girl stood in the woods, carefully waving goodbye to me.
In my memory, she never said anything about marking her.
"She never said that," I suddenly spoke, my voice cold and dangerous.
Lyra nearly collapsed to the ground.