99 Times He Left Me Mid-Moon for a Fake Omega – The 100th? I Marked His Rival Alpha Chapter 21
They threw me back into camp like I was roadkill.
Right in front of me, Warren dragged Quinn into the center.
She was sobbing, begging, but he didn’t care.
“This,” he announced, loud enough for everyone to hear, “is what happens When you fuck with me.“
He grabbed the neck of her shirt and ripped.
The fabric tore clean down the middle.
“She’s all yours, boys.”
The rogues didn’t hesitate.
I screamed. Thrashed against the chains holding me down. My throat went raw, my wrists bleeding where the metal cut into my skin, but I couldn’t move. Couldn’t do anything but watch.
Quinn’s cries turned into choked, broken sobs. The rogues laughed. Jeered.
I squeezed my eyes shut and called for my wolf. Begged her to wake up. To help me. To do something.
Nothing.
She was gone.
And Quinn died right in front of me.
Warren walked over, crouched down, and grabbed my chin.
“You know what? Keeping you here is getting boring.” He grinned. “But I heard Stormhowl Pack’s got a thing for pretty little she-wolves like you. Bet they’d pay top dollar.”
They stuffed me in a burlap sack and threw me in the back of a truck.
I lost track of time. Hours. Maybe days.
When the sack was finally ripped open, I was surrounded by strangers. They stared at me like I was dinner.
They tied me to a wooden frame. Piled brush and branches underneath my feet.
A male werewolf stepped forward-larger than the rest, scars cutting across his face. No headdress, no ceremony. Just power and cruelty worn openly.
He held a jagged silver blade.
The crowd started chanting. Not prayers-pack noise. Rough, chaotic, almost feral.
The knife moved closer.
I closed my eyes.
Ronan, I thought. Butcher. Anyone who touched Quinn.
I’ll see you in hell.
The blade touched my chest.
Then the gates exploded.
Ganfire.
Screaming,
Bodies dropping.
Helicopters roared overhead, searchlights cutting through the smoke. Armed werewolves in tactical gear stormed in, mowing down everything in their path.
Through the chaos, someone was running toward me.
A man. Tall. Silver hair.
He cut the ropes. Wrapped me in his coat-still warm, still soaked with blood-and pulled me against his chest.
I couldn’t hold on anymore.
Everything went black.
When I opened my eyes again, I was lying in a medical tent. White walls. Sterile smell. Machines beeping softly beside me.
I tried to move, and pain flared through every inch of my body.
“Thalia!”
I turned my head.
Eloise.
She looked awful. Her hair had gone completely white. Her face was gaunt, hollow, like she’d aged twenty years.
Behind her was Victor, leaning heavily on a cane, his hands shaking.
“Mom… Dad…” My voice cracked. “How did you-”
Victor stepped forward, his jaw tight. “Someone sent us a message, Told us you were alive. That you were being held in some hellhole on the frontier. When I confronted Ronan, the bastard poisoned us. Put us under house arrest. Told the pack I was sick and took over as acting Alpha.”
His fists clenched, his whole body trembling with rage.
“I never thought,” he said quietly, “that I’d raised a fucking monster. Just like his mother.”
“Are you okay?” I asked. “The poison-”
Eloise grabbed my hand, squeezing tight. “We’re fine, sweetheart. The mysterious person-they helped us. Got us out. If it wasn’t for them, we wouldn’t be here.”
She pulled me into her arms, and I felt her shaking.
“I’m so sorry, Thalia. We should’ve seen it. We should’ve-”
The tent flap lifted.
A man stepped inside.
Silver hair. Broad shoulders. The kind of presence that made every werewolf in the room instinctively lower their eyes
Alpha.
I recognized him immediately. He was the one who pulled me off that frame.
Behind him was a woman. Elegant. Older. The second she saw me, she burst into tears and dropped to her knees.
The man walked straight to my bedside, brushing past Victor and Eloise like they weren’t even there.
He dropped to one knee in front of me.
His hand hovered over my face, trembling. Like he wanted to touch me but was afraid I’d break
Then his eyes dropped to my right wrist.
The bandages had slipped, just enough to reveal the birthmark underneath.
A crescent moon.
His breath hitched.
His eyes filled with tears.
