Chapter 3 None

Chapter 3

RONAN POINT OF VIEW

The training room door slams behind me with a sound like thunder. I lean against it, my chest heaving like I've run a marathon. But I haven't moved a muscle since leaving the cafeteria. Since putting that pathetic Omega in her place.

Since doing exactly what needed to be done.

My hands shake as I push away from the door. Not from regret. From rage. Pure, white-hot fury at the cosmic joke that tried to ruin my life.

The memory hits me like a physical blow. Her face. The way she looked at me with such desperate hope. Like I was her salvation instead of her superior in every possible way.

I punch the concrete wall. Hard. My knuckles split open. Blood drips onto the floor. The copper tang mixes with the scent of her still clinging to my skin. It makes my stomach twist in ways I refuse to acknowledge.

"Why her"

The question burns through my mind for the hundredth time. Of all the wolves in all the packs, why did fate try to chain me to her? An Omega with no family. No power. No backbone.

Weakness. That's all she represents. Everything I despise about the lower ranks. The way they cower and submit and accept their pathetic place in the world.

My wolf snarls inside me, agitated and furious. He doesn't understand why I rejected our so-called mate. Why I chose strength over the weakness she offered.

Because I'm going to be Alpha. Because leaders don't mate with failures. Because the future of our pack depends on strong bloodlines and stronger resolve.

Everything except the poison that tried to bind me to mediocrity.

I sink onto the weight bench and clench my fists. The cold metal bites into my skin through my uniform. The scent of her still clings to my clothes. Sweet vanilla and wildflowers. It makes my stomach turn with disgust.

The flashback comes without warning.

The look on her face when I spoke the truth. When I reminded her and everyone else exactly what she was.

I squeeze my eyes shut, pride swelling in my chest. I handled it perfectly. Showed everyone that Ronan Nightbane doesn't bow to anyone or anything.

"Ronan?"

I look up to find my best friend Marcus standing in the doorway. His face is tight with something that looks like concern but could be admiration. Behind him, the rest of my inner circle crowds into the room.

"We heard what happened," Marcus says carefully. "That was brutal."

Brutal. Perfect. Exactly what it needed to be.

"She had it coming," I say, and my voice is steady now. Strong. "Someone needed to put her in her place."

"The way you shut her down," says Jenna, the only girl in our group. "Everyone's talking about it. You made it clear that Alphas don't associate with trash."

My wolf writhes inside me, clawing at my consciousness. He doesn't understand. Doesn't see the bigger picture. All he knows is some primitive instinct that tried to make me weak.

"It was necessary," I say. My voice sounds exactly like an Alpha should. Confident. Unshakeable. "Omegas need to understand their place. Especially ones who think they can reach above their station."

But my friends' expressions are strange. Like they're seeing something I'm not showing them.

"The bond," Marcus says quietly. "There was something there, wasn't there?"

The words hang in the air like an accusation. My wolf goes completely still, waiting.

"There was nothing," I lie smoothly. "Just a pathetic Omega with delusions and an overactive imagination."

"But the way you reacted..."

"I reacted like any Alpha would when faced with such disrespect," I cut him off. "With strength. With clarity. With the kind of leadership this pack needs."

My wolf starts pacing inside me, agitated and angry. He doesn't agree with anything I'm saying. Keeps pushing images at me I don't want to see.

"What are you going to do now?" Jenna asks.

"Nothing," I say. "Because there's nothing to do. She got the message. Everyone got the message. Alphas mate with equals, not charity cases."

My wolf starts howling. A sound of pure anguish that tears through my consciousness like claws.

My friends exchange glances before quietly filing out, leaving me alone with my satisfaction. My pride. My wolf's endless protest against what I've done.

The silence feels heavier now. I slam my fist into the wall again. This time, it doesn't feel good. It feels hollow. Like hitting air. Like punishing the wrong enemy.

My knees wobble for just a second. I grip the bench harder, the metal edges cutting into my palms. Sweat beads on my forehead despite the cool air.

The flashbacks come in waves now. Each one is trying to make me doubt myself.

Her hand reached toward me before she caught herself. The desperate hope in her eyes that I crushed so completely.

The way she whispered "you're lying" when I said I felt nothing. Because some part of her refused to accept the truth.

How small she looked walking away. How defeated.

I did that to her. Took her delusions and shattered them because someone had to. Because truth is more important than feelings.

Because Alphas don't coddle weakness.

My wolf has gone from howling to something worse. A low, constant whine that makes my skull ache. Like he's mourning something I don't understand.

"No," I growl out loud, my voice echoing off the concrete walls. But then my wolf's voice breaks through mine, soft and hoarse: "Evangeline..."

I slam my hand over my mouth. Force the weakness back down where it belongs.

There's nothing to mourn. I made the right choice. The strong choice. The choice that protects everything I've worked for.

The bond that tried to form between us was a mistake. A cosmic error that would have destroyed everything I'm meant to become.

I close my eyes and let myself feel satisfied with how I handled it. How I protected my future from contamination.

She was nothing. Is nothing. Will always be nothing.

And I made sure everyone knows it.

My phone buzzes with texts from pack members congratulating me and praising my strength. Talking about how perfectly I handled the situation.

I answer each one with pride, I feel. The satisfaction of a job well done.

But for some reason, the pride doesn't taste as sweet as it should. Each reply feels more forced than the last.