Faking My Death to Escape My Alpha Husband

For five years, my husband claimed his wolf could not read emotion.

I believed him. I excused every broken promise and taught myself to survive on scraps of attention.

Then I went to his office with news of our unborn pup and heard him laughing with the woman who had helped him deceive me.

He had married me for a pureblood heir. Once the pup was born, he meant to cast me aside.

He wanted an heir from a devoted mate. Instead, I gave him a funeral.

Kieran and I both came from noble werewolf bloodlines.

Our marriage had been an arrangement between the two packs from the very beginning.

The first time I saw him was at a charity gala.

He wore a black suit that night, standing in the middle of the crowd yet barely speaking to anyone.

When someone approached to make small talk, he would offer a polite nod, answer a question or two, then fall silent again.

In the middle of all that noise and glamour, he was cold, elegant, and utterly out of place.

I fell for him right then.

Later, when my father, Edmund Hartley, Alpha of the Hartley pack, told me the ruling Blackwood pack wanted to arrange a marriage between our families, I agreed almost without hesitation.

Kieran was not my fated mate. Neither of us had felt the pull the Moon Goddess gave true mates, the voice inside that cried Mate at first scent. But noble packs made chosen mates all the time.

I told myself love could do what fate had not.

My father had warned me, though.

"Kieran is cold. He's not easy to be around. Think it over carefully."

I didn't think it mattered.

Every marriage took adjustment.

Besides, I loved him. We had a lifetime ahead of us.

One day he would love me back. One day he would be gentle with me.

On our wedding day, Kieran came to talk to me on his own.

That night, we had just returned from the reception.

I was still in my wedding dress, floating on happiness.

He took off his jacket, sat down in the living room, and was quiet for a moment before speaking.

"Serena, there's something I should tell you."

I sat down beside him.

"What is it?"

"Something is wrong with my wolf."

I froze.

He said his wolf had never been able to scent what others felt. Fear, grief, love: to him, they carried no smell at all, and he never knew how to respond.

Among our kind, a wolf that could not read emotion was a quiet kind of crippling. Few would ever admit to it.

Most of the time, he didn't even realize his behavior was hurting the people closest to him.

"So I probably won't be the kind of husband you're hoping for."

His expression was perfectly calm when he said it.

Of course I felt disappointed.

But part of me was even a little relieved.

At least he hadn't hidden it from me.

At least he was willing to tell me himself.

I loved him, and I was willing to give him time.

"It's okay," I said.

"We can take it slow."

Kieran looked at me for a moment, then nodded.

It wasn't until later that I realized "taking it slow" mostly meant I was the only one waiting.

He didn't mark me that night, either. Among our kind, a mate's mark was the first thing a husband gave his wife. Kieran said it could wait until he understood what it meant. I waited for that too.

Without his mark, I could not take the oath that would make me his future Luna, or join the Blackwood pack's mind-link. I stayed tied to my father's pack, a guest in my husband's.

He promised to have dinner with me. I left work early and came home, and sat there until the food went cold. He never showed.

I sent him a message. He replied two days later.

Something came up.

Three words.

Meanwhile, he hadn't come home for two days. I was frantic, and even got Edmund involved to help look for him.

On the third day, he came back like nothing had happened. He didn't even mention where he'd been or what he'd been doing.

I was ready to ask, but when I saw him sitting there going through documents, I swallowed the words.

He didn't mean it.

Kieran just didn't know how to handle intimacy between a husband and wife.

That was what I told myself.

Things like that happened more and more, and I gradually got used to it.

The night I had a high fever, he was home the entire time, but because he had a meeting the next morning, he simply had a servant close my bedroom door so my coughing wouldn't disturb him.

In the morning, there was a glass of water on my nightstand. I assumed a servant had left it.

The next day, after my fever broke, he didn't even ask how I was.

The most humiliating incident happened at a pack gala.

Kieran had looked off from the moment he arrived.

I thought he was tired from work and asked quietly if he wanted to leave early.

His expression hardened.

"I've told you not to make plans for me. You're being annoying."

Everyone nearby heard.

I stood there, stunned.

Before I could say a word, he had already turned and walked away.

I stood alone in the grand hall, surrounded by familiar faces.

Some quickly looked away. Others watched me over the rims of their glasses.

I called a car and went home by myself that night.

I silently swallowed every last bit of hurt, the way I always did.

Over time, almost everyone in our circles knew my husband didn't love me.

Some even treated me like a joke.

At galas, they would deliberately ask me questions.

"How are things between you and Kieran?"

Or say with a smile, "You two don't seem any different from before the wedding."

I heard every word. All I could do was pretend I didn't understand.

I smiled, took a sip of wine, and asked about someone's new house.

I had chosen him. Understanding him was my part of the bargain.

The people around Kieran had always been the same.

He didn't like unfamiliar faces in his personal life, so his driver, assistant, and household staff had stayed unchanged for years.

Sabrina Vale was one of them.

She was a low-ranking Omega who had served his family since she was young and had later become his personal secretary.

No one expected an Omega to rise that high. Kieran had made sure she did.

Whenever Kieran canceled on me at the last minute, she would pass along his message.

When my silence stretched too long, she would offer a quiet word of comfort.

"Don't take it to heart."

"Kieran has always been like this."

"His wolf just can't read what other people feel."

I had heard these words many times before.

Coming from her, somehow I found them easier to believe.

After all, she had been by Kieran's side for so many years.

When the hunters attacked, I was still telling myself the same thing.

That night, we had barely made it through the front door when gunshots erupted outside.

A servant shouted that hunters were here.

The next second, I saw someone level a gun at Kieran.

Cold light glinted off the barrel.

I recognized it as a silver bullet.

My body moved before my mind could catch up.

I threw myself in front of Kieran in an instant.

The moment the gun fired, a silver round grazed my arm.

My flesh felt like it had been seared through with fire.

The pain nearly blacked out my vision. I almost collapsed.

Blood ran down my arm and dripped onto the floor.

By the time the bodyguards rushed over, I was still standing there, clutching the wound.

Kieran glanced down at me.

I thought he would at least come over and steady me.

But he only frowned.

"Go get that wound taken care of."

Before I could answer, his gaze dropped to the carpet at his feet.

"Don't get blood everywhere."

For a moment, I couldn't move. My heart went so numb I forgot the pain.

I stared at him, wanting so badly to ask.

I was a wolf too.

That silver bullet could have killed me, and I hadn't hesitated for a second.

I had just saved his life, taken a bullet for him. Couldn't he show even a shred of concern?

But in the end, I said nothing.