Chapter 14 - Alysa

The car rolled to a stop in front of Alysa's apartment, the engine's low rumble fading into silence. Streetlights cast long shadows across the dashboard, illuminating the worry etched deep in Aleksander's steel-gray eyes as he turned to his sister.

Alysa stared out the window, her gaze unfocused, lost in a whirlpool of emotions she couldn't begin to untangle.

"Alysa?" Aleksander's voice was gentle, probing. "Are you sure you're alright?"

She hated the way his eyes searched her face, probing for something she couldn’t give him. She plastered on a weak smile, not quite meeting his eyes. "I'm fine, Aleks. Just… tired."

Tired of feeling like a pawn. Tired of my heart being yanked in every direction.

Aleksander's brow furrowed, unconvinced. He reached out, his large hand engulfing hers. "You know you can talk to me, right? About anything."

Alysa nodded, her hand already on the door handle. "I know. I just… I need some time to process everything." She paused, her voice barely above a whisper. "Alone."

Aleksander sighed, running a hand through his dark hair, but he didn’t press her. He never did. "Alright. But I'm coming to check on you tomorrow after the Pack meetings. No arguments."

His tone was soft, but she could hear the command beneath it. He wasn’t asking. Alysa nodded once before heading inside, her body stiff as though it could hold back the storm of emotions brewing within.

As Alysa trudged up to the apartment her brother had bought back from her landlord, Aleksander's promise hung in the air like a lifeline. She wasn't sure if she wanted to cling to it or cut it loose.

The door clicked shut behind her, and Alysa leaned against it, letting out a shaky breath. The silence of her apartment pressed in around her, suffocating.

What am I supposed to do now?

An idea lit up in her mind, and before she could talk herself out of it, Alysa grabbed her keys and bolted out the door.

The sun had long since set by the time Alysa found herself pushing open the heavy wooden door of The Howling Moon. The bar was a favorite haunt for werewolves from various Packs, its dim lighting and pulsing music offering the perfect cover for those seeking to lose themselves for a night.

Alysa slid onto a barstool, her fingers drumming an erratic rhythm on the worn wood. "Whiskey," she mumbled to the bartender. "Neat." The amber liquid sloshed into the glass, and Alysa knocked it back in one burning gulp.

Maybe if I drink enough, I can forget the look in Cassius's eyes when he called us a mistake.

One drink turned into three, then five. The bar around her blurred, faces and voices melding into a cacophony of noise and color. Alysa's head swam, but the ache in her chest remained stubbornly present.

The bar was warm, almost stifling, the buzz of conversation and clinking glasses a steady hum that should have soothed her. But as the alcohol burned its way down her throat, Alysa felt the cracks in her armor widen, the edges of her control fraying with each shot.

Why did he claim me if he doesn't really want me? His explanation never really made sense.

The questions looped endlessly in her mind, each repetition more painful than the last. She signaled for another drink, ignoring the concerned look from the bartender.

"Don't you think you've had enough, Sweetheart?" he asked, hesitating to pour.

Alysa glared at him, her words slurring slightly. "I'll tell you when I've had enough."

She wasn’t sure what she was running from—Cassius, Aleksander, or herself. Maybe all of them. The drink she gripped in her hand trembled slightly, but she wasn’t sure if it was from her growing intoxication or the roiling emotions just beneath her skin.

A group of rowdy Pack members stumbled past, laughing and sloshing their drinks, oblivious to her quiet corner. It didn’t matter. No one ever really saw her. Alysa tipped the glass back again, the liquid a temporary balm against the loneliness that gnawed at her insides.

Her head spun, the room blurring at the edges as she flagged the bartender down for another round. The weight of everything she couldn’t say pressed down on her until she felt like she might burst.

All she wanted was to forget, if only for a little while. Forget Cassius, forget the lie they had lived, forget the hollow ache in her chest every time she thought about what might have been. But the alcohol only magnified the emptiness, and soon, the dark thoughts she had been drowning came rushing back to the surface.

As the night wore on, Alysa felt the walls she'd so carefully constructed begin to crumble. The alcohol coursing through her veins loosened her tongue and her inhibitions. She found herself pouring out her heart to a potted plant in the corner, tears streaming down her flushed cheeks.

"I just don't understand," she hiccupped, swaying slightly on her feet. "He says I'm his mate, but he doesn't act like it. Am I not good enough? Not pretty enough? Not—”

"Now, what's a beautiful she-wolf like you doing drinking alone?"

The deep, gravelly voice cut through Alysa's drunken haze. She blinked, trying to focus on the figure that had materialized beside her. As her vision cleared, she found herself staring into the face of Marcus Redwood, the Crimson Oak Pack Alpha.

She had not noticed him approach. Marcus slid into the seat beside her, his presence a heavy shadow that settled over her drunken haze.

Alarm bells rang faintly in the back of Alysa's mind, but the alcohol muffled them. She attempted to straighten up, nearly toppling off her stool in the process. "Alpha Redwood," she slurred. "What a… surprise."

Marcus's lips curled into a predatory smile as he steadied her with a large hand. "Indeed. I didn't expect to find Cassius White's mate in such a state. Trouble in paradise already?"

Alysa's laugh was bitter, bordering on hysterical. "Paradise? Is that what they're calling it now?"

Marcus's eyebrows shot up, intrigue sparking in his eyes. He leaned in closer, his voice low. "Why don't you tell me what's really going on, little wolf?"

And in her drunken, vulnerable state, Alysa did just that. The words tumbled out in a messy torrent, each revelation more damning than the last.

"He doesn't want me," she muttered, her voice a rough whisper as she stared into her glass, eyes unfocused. "Cassius… he doesn't want me." A bitter laugh bubbled up from her chest. "He told you I was his mate, didn’t he? But it’s all a lie. It’s all a fucking lie."

Her head lolled to the side, her blurry vision landing on Marcus’s darkening expression. His face twisted with rage, his fingers tightening around the edge of the bar. "What did you say?" His tone was dangerous, but Alysa was too far gone to care.

She hiccupped, blinking up at him as if seeing him for the first time. "He made it up," she continued, her words slurring slightly as she leaned closer to him, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

"We’re not mates. Never were. He just needed a cover, something to keep the alliance safe." Her lips quirked into a sad smile. "And I was stupid enough to go along with it."

Marcus's expression darkened, a low growl rumbling in his chest. "A lie? Are you saying Cassius White lied about claiming you as his mate?"

Alysa nodded miserably, too far gone to realize the gravity of what she was revealing. "He doesn't even love me. Doesn't want me. I'm just… convenient."

The rogue Alpha's anger was palpable now, his muscles coiled tight with barely contained rage. "That deceitful bastard," he snarled. "Using you as a pawn in his games."

Through her drunken haze, Alysa registered the danger in Marcus's tone. She tried to backpedal, her words slurring together. "No, no… it's not like that. He was just trying to protect me."

But Marcus was beyond listening. "So he lied. He lied to me, to everyone," he hissed, his voice low and venomous.

He gripped Alysa's arm, not roughly, but firmly enough to make her flinch. "Come on, little wolf. I'm taking you home."

Alysa's protests were weak and incoherent as Marcus led her out of the bar. The cool night air hit her like a slap to the face, momentarily clearing her head. "Wait," she mumbled. "I don't… I'm not staying with Cassius anymore."

Marcus paused, his eyes narrowing. "Is that so? Well, it seems that he has some explaining to do, so that is where we will go."

Before Alysa could process what was happening, she found herself being guided into Marcus's car. The world spun around her as they drove, streetlights blurring into streaks of gold against the dark night sky.

Alysa slumped against the cool leather seat, her head spinning with the alcohol still coursing through her system. She could barely keep her eyes open, her body heavy with exhaustion as the night pressed down on her.

Marcus said nothing, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. Alysa’s head lolled to the side, her vision hazy as she tried to focus on the passing trees outside the window.

What have I done?

Her thoughts drifted, half-formed and fragmented, a tangled mess of regret and confusion. She shouldn’t have told Marcus the truth. She knew that now, in the foggy remnants of her drunkenness, but she couldn't take it back.

Cassius is going to kill me.

The thought pierced through her alcohol-induced fog, but it was too late. They were already pulling up to the Whiteborn estate.

Marcus practically dragged Alysa to the front door, his anger radiating off him in waves. He pounded on the door with enough force to wake the dead.

Alysa stumbled, her legs weak beneath her as Marcus caught her arm, steadying her just before she could fall. "Damn it, Alysa."

Cassius appeared moments later, his hair mussed and eyes wide with surprise. His gaze darted from Marcus to Alysa, confusion quickly morphing into concern. "What's going on? Alysa, are you alright?"

Before Alysa could respond, Marcus shoved her toward Cassius. "You have some explaining to do, White," he growled. "Your 'mate' here had quite the interesting story to tell at the bar tonight."

Cassius caught Alysa, steadying her against his chest. She inhaled his familiar scent—pine and rain—and felt her knees go weak.

Why does he have to smell so good?

"What are you talking about, Redwood?" Cassius's voice was low, dangerous.

Marcus's laugh was cruel. "Oh, you know exactly what I'm talking about. Your little charade? The lie you told to keep me away from her? It's all out in the open now."

Alysa felt Cassius stiffen against her. She wanted to disappear, to sink into the floor and never emerge.

This is all my fault.

"This isn't the time or place for this discussion," Cassius said, his tone clipped. "Alysa needs to rest."

But Marcus wasn't backing down. "Oh, we're having this discussion now, White. You lied to me, to your Pack, to the council. Do you have any idea of the consequences?"

Alysa's head was spinning, the voices around her fading in and out like a badly tuned radio. She caught snippets of their heated exchange—words like "alliance" and "council" and "consequences" swirling together in a dizzying mix.

Cassius’s grip tightened on Alysa as he stared down Marcus, his expression unreadable but for the flicker of anger in his eyes. "I did what I had to," he bit out, his voice a low rumble. "This isn’t your concern."

Marcus’s laugh was bitter, a harsh sound that grated against the quiet of the room. "Isn’t my concern? You made it my concern when you dragged her into this mess. You think the council will just let this slide? That I will?"

The alcohol made everything feel distant, like she was watching from underwater.

I shouldn’t have said anything. This is my fault.

"You've jeopardized everything," Marcus was saying, his voice rising. "The alliance, the peace between our Packs. All for what? To keep the she-wolf out of my bed?"

Cassius's grip on Alysa tightened, a low growl rumbling in his chest. "Watch your tone, Redwood."

Marcus sneered. "Or what? You'll lie about that, too?" He took a step back, his eyes glinting dangerously in the moonlight. "The council will hear about this, White. Mark my words."

As he turned to leave, Marcus paused, throwing one last barb over his shoulder. "Learn to take care of what belongs to you, Alpha White," he said, his tone mockingly light. "Or someone else might just step in and do it for you."

With that, he was gone, leaving Cassius and Alysa alone in the doorway.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Alysa could feel the tension radiating off Cassius in waves, could hear the rapid beat of his heart against her ear. She wanted to apologize, to explain, but the words wouldn't come.

Without a word, Cassius scooped her up into his arms, cradling her against his chest as he carried her inside. Alysa's head lolled against his shoulder, the world tilting and swaying around her.

He took her straight to his bedroom, to the ensuite bathroom. Gently, he set her down on the edge of the large marble tub. Alysa watched through heavy-lidded eyes as he turned on the taps, steam quickly filling the air.

"Cassius," she mumbled, reaching out to grab his shirt. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—”

"Shh," he hushed her, his voice gentler than she expected. "We'll talk in the morning. Right now, you need to get cleaned up."

With efficient movements, he helped her out of her clothes. In her drunken state, Alysa couldn't muster the energy to feel embarrassed. She let him lower her into the warm water, sighing as it enveloped her.

Cassius's touch was clinical as he washed her, his hands moving with practiced ease. But even through her alcohol-induced haze, Alysa could feel the tension in his fingers, could see the tightness around his eyes.

He must hate me now.

When he was done, Cassius wrapped her in a fluffy towel, patting her dry with a tenderness that made her heart ache. He helped her into one of his robes, the soft material drowning her smaller frame.

Why is he being so nice to me?

"Come on," he murmured, lifting her once more. "Let's get you to bed."

Alysa expected him to take her to the guest room, but instead, he carried her to his own bed. He tucked her in, pulling the covers up to her chin.

As consciousness began to slip away, Alysa felt the mattress dip beside her. Cassius's warm presence was both comforting and terrifying.

Her last coherent thought before sleep claimed her was a jumble of regret and longing.

I'm sorry, Cassius. I'm so sorry.

The consequences of her drunken revelations loomed on the horizon, a storm waiting to break. But for now, surrounded by Cassius's scent and warmth, Alysa let herself drift into a troubled sleep.

The last thing she remembered was the soft press of his hand against her cheek, his voice a quiet murmur in the dark. "Sleep, Alysa. I’ll deal with everything else."