Chapter 1: Roses, Rain, and Ruin

The night my wife’s rich family took her back, I tore down the mountain highway, desperate to reach her. My mind raced ahead, panic gnawing at my gut. Was I already too late?

Headlights slashed through the rain, bouncing off the wet blacktop and the endless pine trees. My knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. The bouquet of red roses shifted on the passenger seat with every sharp turn. The world spun out beneath me. I just kept pushing the old Chevy harder, praying I’d get there in time.

Clutching her favorite flowers—those red roses—I stepped out into the storm, heart pounding, only to get a glass of merlot thrown right in my face. The sting was instant, and for a second, I just stood there, stunned by the shock of it all.

The wine was cold and sharp, burning my eyes. All I could hear was my own heartbeat. The laughter in the ballroom behind her faded under the roar of blood in my ears. My heart dropped when I saw her face—trapped, desperate, like she wanted to run but couldn’t.

She was crying. Panic, terror—her face barely looked like hers. It was twisted, raw, and I felt a jolt of fear for both of us.

Tears cut black tracks through her mascara, streaking down her cheeks. She stared at me like I was some monster, not the man she used to curl up with on stormy nights. Her hands shook, clutching the arm of the guy next to her like he was her only lifeline.

"Derek, stop using your whole alpha-werewolf thing to boss me around!"

Her voice cracked, but she squared her shoulders, trying to sound braver than she really was. I caught a glimpse of the girl who used to laugh at my growls, and it hurt like hell. Now, she spat out the words like our whole life was a bad joke.

"I’ve found my real family now. I’m not letting you lock me in the basement again, making me act like some animal! Never again!"

She threw the words at me, voice raw and wild. It cut deeper than the wine. Phones everywhere. Faces staring. The crowd behind her murmured, eyes wide, cell phones already out, hungry for drama. For a second, I couldn’t even breathe.

I didn’t get a single chance to explain myself before security yanked me out, right in front of everyone.

They were rough. Hands dug into my arms. Blank faces, cold as stone. I tried to call her name, but the music behind those doors drowned me out. Nobody in that shiny ballroom cared what I had to say.

Out in front of the country club’s ballroom—laughter and music still echoing—the guards wrenched my ankle. Something popped—sharp and sickening.

Pain shot up my leg, white-hot and blinding. I bit my tongue to keep from screaming, tasting blood. The rain poured down, soaking my jacket, while the guards barely glanced at me before tossing me onto the wet gravel.

Under the blinding camera flashes, Savannah clung to another man’s arm, her smile sweet and perfect, like something off a magazine cover.

Reporters screamed her name. She leaned into Ethan Carter—the golden boy—her lips curling into that practiced, flawless smile. For a second, I wondered if she even saw me at all.

I stood there in the cold wind and rain, clutching the shattered bouquet.

The petals bled color onto my palms, crushed and ruined. I stared at them, remembering all the times she’d laughed at my old-fashioned gifts. Something inside me snapped, clean and final.

At my feet, a wedding invitation fluttered down from the sky.

It landed in a puddle, the gold letters running. I bent to pick it up, my hands shaking so bad I nearly dropped it again. The world shrank around me, tight and suffocating.

"The Langley family is proud to announce the return of their daughter Savannah and her upcoming marriage to the Carter family’s son. You are cordially invited to celebrate this joyous union!"

The words blurred. My breath caught. It was like reading the ending of my own story, written by someone else’s hand.

I looked away, lost. She was marrying someone else—so what did my marriage to her even mean now?

The question echoed, hollow and cold. My fingers curled around the invitation until it tore. In that moment, every promise we’d made felt just as fragile.

Just then, my old packmate called from overseas:

"Hey, bro, Alpha says if you’re in trouble back home, you can come run with us in Scotland. We’re building out the old pack traditions over here."

His voice was warm, familiar, with that Highland lilt. For the first time in weeks, a flicker of hope sparked in me. Maybe there was still a place I belonged.

I could barely breathe. My throat closed tight with emotion.

I swallowed, fighting back tears. The thought of starting over, running wild across the moors with my own kind, sounded almost unreal.

"Alpha forgives me? I’m in."

The words tumbled out before I could stop them. I could almost smell the peat smoke, hear the old songs drifting through the dark.

After hanging up, I limped away. The noise behind me wasn’t mine anymore. Savannah’s life? Not mine either.

The rain poured down, cold and relentless, soaking me to the bone. Each step felt like I was leaving behind another piece of the life I’d built—one soggy, painful step at a time.

After the Langleys’ security tossed me out, they stood guard, blocking the entrance. No way back in.

They loomed by the doors, arms crossed, stone-faced. No one would meet my eyes. I was invisible now—just another cautionary tale. Just a ghost.

I wiped rain from the wedding invitation, my thumb brushing over the happy couple’s photo. A chill crawled up my spine.

The photo was glossy, too perfect. Their smiles looked fake, but the world would eat it up like it was the real thing. I let my thumb linger on Savannah’s face, then let the card slip into the gutter.

I’d always thought my marriage to Savannah Langley was rushed.

We were young, reckless, caught up in something way bigger than us. Now, looking back, I wondered if I’d ever really known her at all.

I never gave her a big wedding or a real honeymoon, and I regretted it.

I used to dream about it—her in white, laughter ringing out under strings of lights, a band playing our song. Sometimes I’d imagine it late at night, wishing I could go back. Instead, we got a courthouse signature and a drive-thru burger. I told myself it was enough, but deep down, I knew she deserved more.