Chapter 10 The Breaking Point
Wynter's POV
Three days since the field, the rain turned the academy grounds into a grey blur as I hurried back from the library that evening, my arms full of books I didn't really need but had checked out anyway as an excuse to leave my room.
Normally I'd wait for Rosalie to walk back with me, but she'd texted an hour ago: Connor showed up. Says he wants to talk. I think I need this, Wyn—one last conversation to finally close that chapter.
I'd told her to be careful, though I hoped she wouldn't fall out with her boyfriend because of me.
And Jax would be trapped in Advanced Combat training until nine—the upperclassmen schedules never aligned with mine, and Thursday nights were his longest sessions. I'd seen him briefly at lunch, exhausted but determinedly cheerful despite the collar at his throat.
I was so focused on navigating the slick pathways that I didn't notice the figures emerging from the shadows until strong hands seized my arms from behind.
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When consciousness returned, I was bound to a chair in what smelled like an old storage room. The bag was ripped from my head, and Marcus stood before me, Natalie and Vivian flanking him. But what made my blood run cold was the phone propped on a crate, Anne's face filling the screen with cold fury.
"Hello, Wynter," Anne's voice came through the speaker, deceptively soft. "I would've come in person, but I can't risk getting my hands dirty. This way I get to watch without any inconvenient witnesses."
"You've been wearing high collars for days," she continued, her eyes narrowing. "What are you hiding?" She nodded to Marcus. "Show me."
Marcus's hand shot out, gripping my collar and tearing the fabric aside. The room went silent as all eyes fixed on the Mark Chase had left on my neck.
Anne's face transformed with rage. "You bitch. You let him Mark you?" Her voice shook with fury. "Marcus, show her what we brought."
Marcus pulled out a small vial filled with dark liquid that seemed to writhe in the dim light. My wolf recoiled instinctively.
"Wolfsbane extract mixed with silver nitrate," Anne said, her voice almost cheerful now. "Rogues use it to erase unwanted Marks. It burns through the scar tissue, destroys the scent markers. Of course, it's agony, but that's a small price for putting you back in your place."
Terror flooded through me as Marcus uncorked the vial. "Anne, please—I'll stay away from Chase, I'll transfer schools—"
"Too late. Marcus, proceed."
The first drop hit like molten silver poured directly onto nerve endings. I screamed—not the controlled cry of training injuries, but a raw, animal sound that tore from my throat as the chemical ate through skin, muscle, the delicate tissue of the Mark itself. The pain wasn't just physical—it was the sensation of something being ripped away, of a connection being severed one burning cell at a time.
Through the haze, I felt Chase's distant alarm spike into full panic, felt him running even though he was too far to know exactly what was happening, felt the Mark fighting back with desperate pulses of heat that only made the burning worse.
"That's it," Anne cooed from the screen. "Scream louder. Let Chase feel it and know I'm erasing you from his—"
She stopped mid-sentence, her eyes widening as she looked at something off-screen. "Shit. He's coming. Marcus, finish it now and get rid of the—"
The phone screen went black.
Marcus's hand shook as he tilted the vial for another drop, but Natalie grabbed his wrist. "She said get rid of the evidence! The phone, the vial, everything—"
"But the Mark isn't gone yet—"
"Now, Marcus!"
The door didn't just break—it detonated. Splinters exploded inward as the massive black wolf tore through like a living battering ram, his jaws already open, eyes pure molten gold and fixed on Marcus with the kind of focus that promised death.
He didn't slow. Didn't hesitate.
One moment Marcus was holding the vial—the next, two hundred pounds of enraged Alpha Prime slammed into him with enough force to crack ribs, and I heard bone snap before Marcus even had time to scream. The vial went flying, shattering against the wall in a spray of dark liquid.
Chase shifted mid-attack, and the moment he saw my neck—saw the angry red burns eating through his Mark, saw the skin blistering where he'd claimed me—something broke in his expression. His eyes went from blue to gold to something darker, something feral.
"You tried to erase me from her," he said, his voice barely human as he grabbed Marcus by the throat and slammed him into the wall. Plaster cracked. "You tried to destroy my claim."
The Alpha dominance that rolled off him wasn't just power—it was rage, the kind that made Natalie and Vivian collapse with whimpers, made Marcus go limp like prey surrendering to a predator.
"Who gave the order?" Chase's voice was deadly quiet as he tightened his grip on Marcus's throat. "Who told you to use illegal compounds on a Marked wolf?"
Marcus's eyes darted to where the phone had fallen, its screen now dark and lifeless. I saw the calculation in his expression—the choice between betraying Anne or facing Chase's wrath alone.
"It was—" Marcus gasped, then seemed to make a decision. "It was my idea. Mine. Wynter's been—she's been throwing herself at you, trying to trap you with that Mark, and someone had to—had to put her back in her place before she ruined everything—"
"Liar." Chase slammed him into the wall again. "You're not smart enough to get wolfsbane extract. Someone with connections, with money, gave you that compound. Who?"
"I got it from—from a Rogue dealer," Marcus choked out, his face turning red. "Paid him with my own money. No one else was involved, I swear—"
Chase's eyes snapped to Natalie, who was still on her knees, trembling under the weight of his dominance. "Is that true?"