Lara's POV
My hands were shaking, but I refused to let him see it. "Well, you better announce to your pack that our engagement is off. I will never marry someone like you. I regret the day I ever fell in love with you, and I hate you with all my heart." The words came out trembling, but at least I finally said them.
Marco looked at me with that same cold calmness, as if my fury meant nothing. "I can't do that," he said quietly. "I already marked you, Lara. That bite on your neck was not an ordinary bite. It was a mark that you belong to me."
For a moment, I thought he was trying to scare me, but the steadiness in his voice made my heart pound. I touched the faint scar on my neck, remembering the way he had kissed that spot before everything fell apart.
"It means you are now bound to me as my mate," he continued. "Unless I reject you, the bond will remain."
I forced a bitter laugh. "Then reject me. If that's the only way to end this madness, then do it. I don't care what you believe in or what kind of fairytale you're living. Just end it."
His eyes softened, and his voice dropped low. "I'm sorry, Lara. You have no idea what will happen if I reject you right now."
"I can take anything," I said, though my voice wavered. "After what you've done to me, do you really think there's anything left to break?"
He stepped closer, his tone heavy with something that sounded like regret. "The prophecy said you will die if I reject you before the heir is born."
My breath caught. The words hit me harder than I expected. "You're lying," I whispered.
"I wish I was," he answered quietly.
A long silence filled the room. My mind was spinning, my chest tightening until it hurt to breathe. The air between us was suffocating.
Finally, I looked at him and forced the words out, my voice shaking but firm. "I would rather die than be your wife."
Marco flinched, just slightly, but it was enough for me to notice. His jaw tensed, and something dark flickered in his eyes. Yet, he didn't respond, and that silence broke me even more. I wanted him to say something that would make this nightmare make sense, but he just stood there, watching me fall apart.
Tears burned my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. "You are the worst man I have ever met," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "You make me wish I never knew what love felt like."
I never believed in supernatural beings. Vampires, werewolves, and witches were things that belonged in stories, not in my reality. I was not the type who spent nights watching fantasy films or reading about creatures that only existed in imagination.
I loved reality shows. I liked seeing people compete, argue, and make fools of themselves on national television. It made me laugh, and sometimes, it made me feel normal. Romance movies, though, were a different story. I could hardly watch them without feeling a little bitter.
My mother's love story had ended in heartbreak, and it left a scar that made me question whether love was worth the pain. She used to tell me love was beautiful, but all I saw was how it broke her. Maybe that was why I stopped believing in happy endings.
But everything changed after my final interview with Marco Blackwell.
I still remember that day clearly, the first time I saw him behind his desk. He did not even have to speak to intimidate me. He was calm, precise, and focused, the kind of man who could silence you with just one look.
When he told me I was hired, I tried to act professional, but the moment I left his office, I could barely contain my excitement. From that day on, I could not stop thinking about him. I started watching romantic movies, the kind I once avoided.
It was foolish, I knew, but I could not help it. I had never met a man like him. He carried himself like someone who ruled the world, yet behind his eyes, there was something mysterious, something untamed that drew me in.
I snapped back to the present and gathered what was left of my strength. My hand trembled as I pulled the engagement ring from my finger. I stared at it for a heartbeat, feeling every ounce of pain pressing against my chest.
Then, before I could stop myself, I threw it straight at him. The sound of metal hitting his chest echoed in the quiet office, sharp and final. Marco didn't flinch. He just stood there, still and silent, letting the ring fall to the floor between us.
"I don't care who you are," I said, my voice shaking with anger. "I don't care if you're my boss or your so-called Alpha or whatever else you pretend to be. You ruined everything. You made me believe in something that never existed."
He looked at me, his face calm and unreadable, and that made it worse. I wanted him to react, to shout, to fight, anything that would prove he felt something.
My throat tightened, but I refused to let the tears fall. "And one more thing," I said, forcing the words out before I could lose my courage. "I quit. I don't care if I'm still under contract. You can sue me, fire me, destroy my career if that's what makes you happy. You can even send me to jail if you want. That's what you're good at, isn't it? Making people small. Playing with their hearts just to see how easily they break."
His jaw tightened, but he said nothing.
I took a shaky breath, my voice dropping to a whisper. "You've taken everything from me, Marco. But now I see what you really are."
I turned away, every part of me screamed to look back, but I didn't. I couldn't. Because if I did, I might see the man I once loved, and I wasn't sure I had the strength to hate him completely.
I was furious, hurt, and heartbroken as I walked toward the nearest bus stop. My vision blurred from the tears I refused to shed. The air was cold, but not nearly as cold as the emptiness that had taken over me. I didn't care where I went; I just needed to get away from him.
Then my phone rang, and I groaned when I saw the screen light up. I didn't want to talk to anyone. Not now, not when I could barely breathe. But when I saw my mother's name flashing on the screen, my chest tightened. I wiped my face with the back of my hand and answered quickly.
"Hello," I said, forcing my voice to sound steady.
"Lara," my brother's voice came through, trembling and strained. "We're at the hospital."
My stomach dropped. "What? Why? What happened?"
"Mom collapsed. The doctor said she needs surgery right away or we'll lose her."
The world tilted beneath me. For a second, I couldn't move, couldn't think. My heart felt like it had stopped. "What kind of surgery?" I asked, but the line was already breaking with his sobs.
I hung up and hailed the first taxi I saw, barely hearing the driver ask where I was headed. My hands shook as I clasped them together, praying quietly the entire ride. I begged God to save her, to give me one more chance to tell her how much I loved her, how sorry I was for everything.
When I arrived at the hospital, the smell of antiseptic filled the air, and my chest tightened even more as I rushed toward the nurse's station. My brother met me halfway, his eyes swollen from crying.
"The doctor said it's a bypass operation," he said, his voice cracking. "We need to make a deposit before they can start."
My throat closed. "How much?"
He told me the number, and my heart sank. It was more than I could ever afford on my own. I didn't even have enough savings for half of it.
I nodded slowly, trying to stay calm, though my mind was already spinning. "I'll find a way," I whispered. "I promise I'll find a way."
I stepped aside and pulled out my phone. My hands were trembling so badly that I almost dropped it. There was only one person I could think of.
Cammie.
She had always been there for me. Maybe she could help me now. Maybe she could lend me what I needed, even just enough for the deposit. I swallowed my pride and dialed her number, whispering a silent prayer.
She picked up on the second ring. "Lara? What's wrong? You sound—"
"My mom," I interrupted, my voice breaking. "She's in the hospital. She had a heart attack and needs surgery. I don't know what else to do. Please, I need help."
There was a pause on the other end, then Cammie said, "Send me the address. I'm on my way."
I thanked her again and again until my voice gave out. When the call ended, I pressed the phone to my chest and exhaled shakily. Relief flooded me for a moment, enough to make me sit down on one of the cold hospital benches. I stared at the wall, numb and exhausted, waiting for her to arrive.
After what felt like forever, Cammie finally arrived. I stood up the moment I saw her, relief flooding through me, but my heart stopped when I realized she wasn't alone.
Marco was right behind her.
My chest tightened. For a moment, I couldn't move or speak. The air seemed to vanish around me, and all I could do was stare.
Cammie looked worried, her face pale and drawn, but her eyes softened when she saw me. Marco, on the other hand, looked too calm. He was still in the same suit he wore earlier, his hair slightly tousled, his expression unreadable. The faint scent of his cologne reached me, stirring something I didn't want to feel.
"Lara," he said quietly, his voice deep and steady as he took a slow step forward.
Every emotion I had tried to bury came crashing back all at once. The anger, the betrayal, the ache that hadn't stopped since the moment I walked out of his office. I wanted to look away, to pretend I didn't see him, but my body betrayed me. My heart was already racing, pounding so hard it almost hurt.
"What is he doing here?" I asked, my tone sharp, my voice trembling despite my best effort to sound indifferent. I didn't look at him. I couldn't.
Cammie hesitated before answering. "Lara, we'll talk later. Right now, we need to save your mother."
Her words hit me like a cold wave. That was when it sank in, Cammie knew him. She had known all along. The realization made my stomach twist, as if the little bit of trust I had left was slipping away again.
"I will take care of everything," Marco said firmly.
I shook my head immediately. "I didn't ask you to help me," I said, my voice sharp, trying to hide the tremor in it.
"Lara, please," Cammie said softly. "Marco is the only one who can help right now."
Her voice broke a little, and I felt my throat tighten. I wanted to scream at both of them, to tell them to leave. But then I remembered my mother lying in that hospital bed, fighting for her life. My pride shrank under the weight of that thought.
I turned to the nurse's station, trying to gather my strength, but my voice came out weak. "Fine," I whispered. "Do whatever it takes."
Marco moved past me to speak to the doctor, and I watched as he handed over his black card without hesitation. The nurses rushed to prepare the paperwork, and I could hear his calm, steady voice giving instructions. It was the same tone he used in business meetings, the same voice that once made me feel safe.
And that what terrified me the most. Because even now, when I should have hated him completely, a small part of me still wanted to believe that he cared.