Divorcing My Arrogant And Controlling Alpha

Ciara Ford POV:

"Get out! Alpha Darius is waiting for you outside."

The heavy metal door of the isolation ward was shoved open.

Brenda, a pack nurse, stood in the doorway, clicking her tongue in disgust as she met my dead, hollow eyes. "Five days in the pack's psychiatric hold and you're still playing the victim? You were fierce enough when you attacked Lady Geneva."

I walked toward her, my face devoid of any emotion. "I'm still fierce enough to rip your throat out now. Want to try me?"

Brenda rolled her eyes, but she wisely clamped her mouth shut, intimidated by the lingering aura of a Luna.

A cold smirk played on my lips as I walked out step by step, memories flooding my mind.

Five days ago, I discovered that my mate and husband, Darius, was keeping another she-wolf. Blinded by rage and betrayal, I had slapped the woman hard across the face. "Are you that desperate for a male? You have to leech off someone else's mate?"

The woman was beautiful, her face stained with pathetic, delicate tears. "Luna, you've misunderstood! Darius and I aren't what you think!"

Despite her words, she shrank into Darius's embrace, her scent mixing with his. "Darius just took pity on me, that's why he let me stay in the pack house. If you hate me that much, I'll pack my things and leave the territory right now. Please don't be mad at the Alpha..."

Darius held Geneva gently, his eyes-usually so warm for me-now completely devoid of affection. "You're acting crazy, Ciara! Apologize to her right now!"

I almost laughed out loud, pointing a trembling finger at him. "Crazy? You gave the suite meant for our mating ceremony to this she-wolf, and you're draining the pack funds to shower her with gifts. And you're telling me I'm crazy?"

Seeing me cause a scene in front of the pack members, Darius's jaw clenched. "Ciara's wolf has gone feral. Lock her in the isolation ward until she cools down!"

I was immediately restrained by his enforcers, unable to break free.

Just before they dragged me away, I caught from the corner of my eye Darius taking off his expensive coat and draping it over Geneva's shoulders. His voice was sickeningly gentle. "Put this on. Don't catch a cold."

Stepping out of the clinic now, I saw Darius standing a few yards away.

He looked exactly as I remembered. Tall, muscular, with pitch-black hair and eyes like a stormy sea. Clad in a tailored suit, his dominant Alpha aura filled the narrow hallway, naturally demanding submission from everyone around him.

Seeing my pale face and cracked lips, his brows furrowed. Out of habit, he took off his suit jacket and tried to drape it over my shoulders. "Why do you look so pale? Put this on. I'll have the kitchen make you some hot broth when we get back."

I took a step back in disgust, dodging his touch. I could smell Geneva's cheap floral perfume on his clothes.

Darius looked stunned, meeting my icy, loveless gaze.

He had no idea that I had been reborn.

The nurses in the pack clinic knew perfectly well I wasn't feral, yet they locked me up for five days. Why would they bother giving me decent treatment?

A thin blanket, stale bread, and cold tap water. Even the meager soup they brought me was freezing.

In my past life, I had developed a severe fever before I was even released.

The stigma of being thrown into the isolation ward ruined my reputation as Luna. Fueled by Geneva's manipulative rumors, the entire pack believed I was mentally unstable.

Back then, I naively thought Darius would feel at least a shred of remorse or heartache. But my naive hopes were reduced to ashes-literally.

Driven to the brink of actual madness by the pack's isolation and Geneva's relentless psychological torment, I was trapped when a sudden, inexplicable fire engulfed the Pack House. Geneva and I were both caught in the flames. I watched, paralyzed by despair and smoke, as Darius burst through the burning doors. He didn't even look my way. He scooped a weeping Geneva into his arms and carried her to safety, leaving me behind to be burned alive in the roaring inferno.

I later learned Geneva had started the fire herself, a final, ruthless move to get rid of me for good.

Until my last agonizing breath in that fiery grave, he never spared me a single glance.

Now, given a second chance at life, I slowly raised my head. My eyes met his, and a faint, chilling curve appeared on my lips.

Darius... keep your titleand your mistress. I don't want your love anymore.

In this life, I'm claiming my freedom-and building my own empire.

Ciara Ford POV:

I stared at Darius with my large green eyes. The desperate, adoring light that used to shine for him was completely gone, replaced by a flat, unsettling silence.

Suppressing the sudden unease in his chest, he took a step forward. "Ciara, maybe sending you to the ward was harsh, but Geneva is a single mother. It's not easy for her. You didn't have to cause a scene and accuse her of seducing me... Do you know how damaging that is to a female's reputation in the pack?"

"So turning your mate into a certified lunatic isn't damaging?" I couldn't help but mock him. "Letting her live in our wing, spending your personal wealth on her-did you ever think about how the pack would view me? Did you ever consider the consequences of locking me up like a rogue?"

Darius took a deep breath. "I've already had the pack doctor seal the records. No one outside will know you were here, and no one will actually think you're crazy. It was just a few days of isolation to protect all four of us. Why can't you understand my good intentions?"

Even hearing those words a second time, his sheer hypocrisy made me want to laugh.

He made it sound so noble. But in my past life, despite his so-called "guarantees," Geneva spread the news of my psychiatric hold to every neighboring pack.

And Darius? He didn't say a single word to defend me.

They had driven me to actual madness. They had driven me to my death.

Moreover, Darius kept claiming that he and Geneva were just a misunderstanding. But later in my past life, I found out they had known each other since childhood. After her father died, she left the territory with her mother.

When Darius finally found her years later, she had been sold off to a cruel, aging rogue in a remote settlement to settle a debt, and had given birth to a son.

Heartbroken, the great Alpha brought the mother and son back to his pack, moving them straight into the home we had built for our mating. The almighty Alpha of the Newman Pack spent his days and nights caring for them.

"I know the past few days have been tough, and you've been under a lot of stress. But you have to trust me, Ciara. Geneva is just a friend. She and her son, they need my protection."

"Fine," I replied, my voice completely flat.

Darius froze. He had braced himself for screaming, tears, or relentless accusations. But I gave him nothing, yielding to his words with terrifying ease.

A flicker of satisfaction crossed his face. He actually thought the isolation had "cured" me. He thought I was back to being his obedient little mate.

But he didn't know that a massive storm was brewing inside me.

Stepping out of the clinic, the bright California sun made me flinch involuntarily. Tasting freedom again... it felt incredible.

But it wasn't enough.

I followed Darius into his SUV. The faint, sickeningly sweet scent of Geneva's perfume lingered in the cabin, but I kept my face blank, not saying a word.

Darius tried to break the silence. "I had Maria prepare your favorite lasagna," he said, glancing at me. "You need to eat something and get your strength back."

I continued to ignore him. Unable to stand the silence, he started defending himself again. "Geneva and Leo... they have no one else," he said, keeping his eyes on the road. "Her mate is dead. As an Alpha, it's my duty to protect the vulnerable members of our territory. That's all it is."

I slowly turned my head away from the window and closed my eyes. His voice was nothing but annoying noise to me.

Feeling like he was punching cotton, Darius clenched his jaw and finally shut up.

Returning to the massive Pack House-the place I once called my dream home-Darius closed the heavy oak door behind us. The sound echoed in the empty foyer.

"Ciara," he said, his voice losing its gentle edge, replaced by the hard, commanding tone of an Alpha. "We need to talk."

I stopped in the middle of the room and slowly turned to face him.

My voice was calm and crystal clear. Every word dropped like perfectly formed shards of ice onto the polished marble floor.

"Darius," I said. "I want a divorce. And I reject you as my mate."

Ciara Ford POV:

The shock on Darius's face was a masterpiece.

His mask of calm, benevolent control didn't just crack; it disintegrated. For a split second, I saw the real man underneath-confused, outraged, and completely lost.

Then, the physical backlash hit us both.

A sharp, tearing agony ripped through my chest as the sacred mate bond connecting our souls began to fray. I bit the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste blood, refusing to let out even a whimper. The memories of the abandonment in my past life had numbed me to this pain.

Darius, however, staggered back, a raw groan escaping his throat as his hand flew to his chest. The shock morphed into absolute rage. A palpable wave of power rolled off him, the oppressive aura of an Alpha demanding submission. The air in the room grew heavy, thick with his fury. The crystal vase on the console table vibrated faintly.

"Reject me?" he growled, his eyes flashing to a dangerous, glowing gold. "Do you have any idea what you're saying, Ciara? You want to sever our bond?

He expected me to flinch. To shrink back. To submit to his Alpha command.

I didn't. Because the moment I initiated the rejection, his bloodline hold over me weakened. His power felt like a child's tantrum now, loud and meaningless.

I met his furious gaze without blinking.

"I know exactly what I'm saying," I said, my voice steady, enunciating each word with precision. "I, Ciara Ford, want a divorce from you, Darius Newman. And I reject you.

My calm defiance was gasoline on his fire. He closed the distance between us in a blink, his shadow falling over me. He grabbed my wrist, his fingers digging into the tender skin.

"Is this about Geneva?" he snarled, his face inches from mine. "I told you, she is nothing-"

I ripped my arm from his grasp.

The force of the movement was so unexpected, so strong, it made him stumble back a half-step. He stared at his empty hand, then at me, his eyes wide with disbelief.

"Do not say her name to me again," I said, my voice dropping to a frigid whisper. "And do not insult my intelligence with your pathetic lies."

This was it. This was the first time he had ever truly lost control of a situation with me. His handsome face was flushed with anger, his composure gone.

"You think you can survive without me?" he spat, his words turning cruel to mask the pain of the tearing bond. "Who would want you? A broken, unstable she-wolf who needs to be locked up?"

A real, genuine laugh escaped my lips. It was a bitter, humorless sound.

"Unstable?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "That's a diagnosis you forced on me, isn't it?"

I reached into the pocket of the simple dress they'd given me at the clinic and pulled out a folded piece of paper. I had charmed a young, naive apprentice healer into printing it for me this morning, telling him I needed it for my personal records before the Alpha arrived.

I tossed it onto the coffee table between us.

It was my official discharge summary. At the bottom, in clear, black print, were the words: "No signs of feral behavior or clinical psychosis. Patient's wolf is mentally sound. Recommend rest and removal from stressful environments."

Darius's eyes shot to the paper. He read the words, and I saw his pupils constrict. He looked back at me, a new, unsettling emotion in his eyes: suspicion. He was finally realizing I wasn't just throwing a tantrum. I was planning.

The mighty Alpha was beginning to suspect he'd walked into a trap.

Just as the tension in the room reached its breaking point, the doorbell chimed.

"Go away!" Darius roared at the door, his frustration boiling over.

But the chime was followed by the sound of a key turning in the lock.

Of course. She had a key to our home.

The front door swung open, and there stood Geneva McMillan. She was holding a covered ceramic bowl, a perfect picture of domestic concern. She had on a soft pink sweater, and her face was arranged into an expression of sweet, innocent worry.

"Darius?" she said, her voice a gentle coo. "I heard Ciara was coming home, so I brought some of my calming chamomile soup..."

Her words trailed off as she took in the scene.

Me, standing rigid. Darius, radiating fury and clutching his chest. The paper on the table.

She was a masterful actress. Her eyes widened, her lower lip began to tremble. She looked from me to Darius, her expression a perfect blend of confusion and hurt.

"Oh," she whispered, clutching the soup bowl to her chest like a shield. "Am I... interrupting something?"

Her arrival was the final, perfect ingredient in this disaster. It was a calculated move, and we all knew it.

Darius's anger, which had been directed at me, now had nowhere to go. He couldn't yell at this poor, fragile creature who had only come to help.

I crossed my arms, watching the farce unfold. I felt strangely detached, like a spectator at a very bad play.

"No, Geneva," I said, my voice cutting through the thick silence. "You're not interrupting. In fact, your timing is perfect."

I turned my gaze back to Darius, who looked trapped between his mate and his mistress.

My eyes were cold as a winter grave.

"It's good that you're here to witness this," I said, my words directed at him but meant for her. "Now, Darius. Are you going to get out of my personal suite, or do I need to have you and your... guest... removed from my wing?"

Geneva's face went white. The soup bowl trembled in her hands. The mask of innocence finally slipped for a microsecond, revealing the panicked fury beneath.