I Don’t Want You Anymore, Alpha

The day after his first love framed me for hitting her with my car, inside a warehouse of the DuskFang Pack, iron lamps clanged and boiling oil seethed.

My Mate, along with our two pups, had hung my brother over an enormous cauldron of scalding oil, threatening to fry him alive.

I rushed over like a madwoman, only to be pinned by two Warriors.

“Have you learned your lesson?” Evander stood aside, impeccably dressed in a suit, his features cold and sharp. “Will you dare hurt Evangeline again?”

“I never hit her!” I screamed through my tears, struggling violently. “Evander, let Wyatt go! He’s only eighteen, he just got into college!”

Five-year-old Cyril crossed his arms, his little face icy. “The evidence is clear, and you still lie?”

Four-year-old Flynn nodded obediently, his tone innocent yet cruel. “Mom, if you didn’t want Uncle to die, you shouldn’t have hit Aunt Evangeline. She’s our treasure.”

My heart clenched violently.

Evangeline was their treasure. Then what about me? What was I?

I looked to Evander, hoping he might spare Wyatt, if only for the sake of our Mate Bond.

But he only stared at me coldly, as if looking at a stranger.

I suddenly laughed, even as tears crashed down my cheeks.

All these years, it turned out he still loved only Evangeline.

Memories stabbed into my heart like poison-dipped wolf claws.

The three of us had grown up together in the DuskFang Pack. I’d loved Evander, but his eyes had only ever been for Evangeline. All I could do was wish him well in silence, even help him plan his confession.

The night before he was about to confess, Evangeline’s plane crashed, and her death was unspeakably gruesome.

After that, Evander drowned himself in alcohol, falling apart completely.

As Alpha of the Pack, he should have been steady and decisive, yet he’d abandoned all Pack training entirely, broken by the loss of his beloved.

I stayed by his side, cared for him. I made hangover soup when he passed out drunk, stayed up all night when he suffered a stomach hemorrhage.

One night, he was completely intoxicated, grabbed my wrist, murmured Evangeline’s name, and pressed me beneath him.

I could have pushed him away.

But I loved him too deeply—loved him enough to willingly be a stand-in.

When he woke the next morning, he stared at the bloodstain on the sheets for a long time, finally saying only one thing: “I’ll take responsibility.”

And so we bonded as Mates.

After marriage, I poured everything into loving him. He had a weak stomach, so I got up early every morning to cook congee for it. He was swamped with work, so I learned to help him handle documents. When he had nightmares at night, I stayed awake with him until dawn.

Gradually, the way he looked at me changed. He began to remember my favorite flavors. When my period came, he’d personally make brown sugar ginger tea. When I fell asleep, he’d gently kiss my forehead.

Later, we had Cyril and Flynn. The two pups clung to me tightly, and Evander would always hold me in his arms with a smile. “Wife, thank you for everything.”

Those five years were the happiest of my life.

Until—

Evangeline returned from the dead, standing before him once more.

Originally, Evangeline would have been pronounced dead on the spot, but Evander refused to accept it—so she was rushed directly from the airport to the top-floor ward of the Pack Hospital, which is part of the medical network controlled by the DuskFang Pack.

Access to the elevators required a special key card, and Warriors stood guard around the clock.

In that moment, I saw it clearly—light flared instantly in Evander’s eyes.

What broke me even more was that my two pups quickly turned to her side too.

“Aunt Evangeline is so much gentler than Mom!”

“Aunt Evangeline plays games with us. Mom only nags us!”

“Daddy, can Aunt Evangeline be our mom instead?”

Every time, he only glanced at me faintly, then ruffled the pup’s head and said, “Don’t talk nonsense.”—yet he never contradicted them.

I felt like an outsider, watching as the five years of happiness I’d “stolen” shattered completely the second she came back.

And now, they were using such a cruel method to force me to admit a crime I never committed.

“It wasn’t me!” I snapped back to my senses, my voice shaking. “Evander, let him go!”

His gaze turned frigid. “Those who refuse to repent will learn the lesson of blood.”

He lifted his hand—the Gamma signaled to a Warrior, who immediately cut the rope!

“No—!”

I watched helplessly as the cord snapped, and my brother plummeted toward the boiling oil.

I threw myself forward in a frenzy, only to be held fast, screaming in despair: “Evander! You killed him! You killed him!”

Agony tore through me, and I coughed up a mouthful of blood. At the sight, Cyril frowned impatiently. “Quit overreacting. That wasn’t Uncle up there, just a dummy. Mom, was it really necessary to lose it like that?”

Flynn huffed in agreement. “Yeah, we just wanted to scare you. You hurt Aunt Evangeline, after all.”

My strength drained away completely, and I collapsed heavily to the ground, my heart seeming to stop.

Evander loomed over me. “Remember this feeling. Evangeline came back from the dead—I can’t lose her a second time.”

He paused, his tone taking on a patronizing softness. “I know what you’re worried about. Since I married you and we bonded, I’ll fulfill my duties as Alpha, your Mate, and a father. I won’t divorce you. So stop trying every way to drive Evangeline away.”

I lifted my head, trembling.

But I’d already been preparing for divorce… I no longer wanted a husband and pups who favored Evangeline this much.

I was just about to speak when his phone rang.

“Evangeline?” He answered, his voice softening instantly. “Hurting again? Alright, I’ll be right there.”

Hanging up, he didn’t so much as glance at me before leaving quickly with Cyril and Flynn.

The warehouse fell silent and empty, leaving only me kneeling on the ground, tears hitting the dust one by one.

I wiped my tears and tried to stand, when my phone suddenly vibrated.

A message from Evangeline popped up—

Elowen, I had them switch the dummy. The one frying in the oil right now is your real brother.He had long since been drugged and passed out.

My blood turned to ice in my veins.

I stumbled to the cauldron, waves of scorching heat hitting my face, burning my eyes.

In the boiling oil, Wyatt’s body was already charred and mangled, skin blackened, limbs twisted. Only his eyes remained wide open, staring straight at me.

“Wyatt… Wyatt!”

I reached for him frantically, scalding oil splashing onto my hand, blistering it instantly.

I trembled in pain, yet still clawed desperately for his hand. He could no longer make a sound, only his lips quivering slightly, as if trying to call my name—Elowen.

I had to save him!

Even if there was only a sliver of hope!

Shaking, I dialed 911, then lifted Wyatt and rushed out of the iron gates of the DuskFang Pack manor. The two Warriors at the entrance stepped aside without expression.

Tears blurred my vision, but I held him tight, stumbling into a taxi.

“Hospital! Hurry! Please!” My voice was hoarse, on the verge of collapse.

The driver, startled by my blood-soaked appearance, slammed on the gas.

In the hospital corridor, I carried the dying Wyatt into the emergency room, only for a nurse to say apologetically:

“I’m sorry, Evander gave the order that all doctors are tending to Evangeline. No one is available to operate on your brother right now…”

I shook violently and immediately called Evander.

“Evander! Please… please send a doctor to save Wyatt! He fell into the oil! He’s dying!”

On the other end of the line, his voice was impatient. “Elowen, it was just a dummy. How long are you going to keep this up?”

In the background, Cyril and Flynn complained:

“Why is Mom always being so unreasonable?”

“Daddy, ignore her. Aunt Evangeline is still waiting for you.”

Evander hung up directly.

I knelt on the floor, begging everyone I saw in despair, but all turned away.

Every doctor and security guard here recognized Evander’s authority; without his permission, the operating rooms were locked tight by an invisible chain.

By the time I finally found a doctor willing to help, Wyatt’s body had already gone cold.

“Wyatt… Wyatt!”

I held my brother’s charred remains tightly, completely broken. The young man in my arms would never respond again.

He was dead.

Killed in the space between Pack justice and power; killed by the name I once loved most, and feared most.

…

Three days later, at the cemetery.

I stood before Wyatt’s tombstone, my face drained of all color.

These three days, I’d been a walking corpse: filing the death certificate, sending him for cremation, burying him with my own hands.

Evander and our two pups never showed up once.

I opened Evangeline’s Instagram. Her latest post was a photo of Evander feeding her porridge, with the caption: Someone insists on taking care of me personally. What can I say~

Beneath it, comments from Cyril and Flynn:

Get well soon, Aunt Evangeline! We want to go to the amusement park with you!

Aunt Evangeline is way gentler than Mom. You’re our favorite!

I locked my phone, my eyes turning utterly cold.

I walked out of the cemetery and did only two things.

First, I went to a law firm and drafted a divorce agreement.

Second, I called 911. The operator transferred me to the Major Crimes Unit of the Aetherton Police Department. After the duty officer verified my address and statement, officers were sent to pick me up to file a police report. My lawyer arrived shortly after, informing me that the case file would be submitted to the Aetherton District Attorney’s Office; whether formal charges would be pressed depended on review by the prosecutor and the preliminary hearing judge.