Chapter 12
Beta Malcolm’s call came not long after. I’d just finished a run in my wolf form–needed the fresh air to cool off my temper.
My wolf let out a low growl the second his name popped up on the screen.
“Don’t answer it,” she warned.
“I have to,” I muttered. “I need to hear just how far this idiot plans to take it.”
I swiped to answer.
“Rowena, you regret it now, don’t you? If you come back to me, we can still be as happy as we were before.”
I blinked.
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Was this man serious?
“I won’t even hold it against you that you got married. As long as you come back, I’ll go online right now and tell everyone you’ve realized your mistake and returned to me!”
Oh. So now I was supposed to crawl back, wag my tail, and thank him for dragging my name through the mud?
“You’re disgusting,” I snapped. “I gave you seven chances to mark and mate me, and you blew every single one. You picked your little childhood sweetheart, remember? I’m just doing you a favor.”
He sputtered. I didn’t let him get a word in.
“Don’t worry, Malcolm. You’ll be out of my house in no time.”
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Then I hung up. Hard.
But the universe wasn’t done screwing with me yet. Hours later, I found out Malcolm had posted a cut version of our phone call online. Just the part where I told him he’d be out of the house soon–neatly trimmed to make it sound like I was the heartless one.
So I posted the entire call.
Within minutes, the internet exploded again -but this time, the tide shifted. Half the comments were still trash, but some started questioning Malcolm’s sob story.
Malcolm messaged me in a rage, accusing me of recording him.
Like I was dumb enough to believe his call had any good intentions.
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And then… Alpha Zachary stepped in.
Now, Zachary had been quiet this whole time.
Apparently, he was just waiting for the right time to drop the damn hammer.
He posted ten photos on his official Alpha account. Ten. From our high school days to our wedding. One for every year he’d loved
- me.
“Ten years of secretly loving her. I finally got my wish.”
Yeah. That broke the internet.
And he didn’t stop there. He uploaded surveillance footage–seven clips, one for each time I’d waited at the registry while
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Malcolm no–showed like the coward he was.
Each clip showed the same thing: me in some heartbreakingly cute outfit, bouquet in hand, waiting… and Malcolm walking away, cold as ice.
The comments were brutal.
“She waited seven times? And he still left?”
“Nah, he doesn’t deserve a mate, he deserves fleas.”
“Zachary better guard that girl with his life. She’s a gem.”
Not long after, another video surfaced from the time I was in the hospital.
It showed Malcolm wrapping his arm around Queenie and openly declaring, “This is my
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girlfriend.”
The next day, his social media was a graveyard. The comment section was 99% “scumbag” 1% emojis of trash cans and rats.
That night, I cooked. A full meal. Roasted venison, garlic potatoes, and apple crumble. My post–battle feast. Zachary and Yvonne
came over.
Zachary helped set the table, even though he had no idea where anything was.
“Where’d you get those ten photos?” I asked casually, slicing into the roast.
He paused mid–carve.
Before he could fumble through a lie, I turned to Yvonne.
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“It was you, wasn’t it? The first photo was from our second month in school–you were the only one there with a camera.”
Yvonne grinned like the smug little fox she was. “What can I say? I’ve always had good taste. I knew he’d need receipts someday.”
After that, things finally quieted down. The house went up for sale. An agent came by with potential buyers. But, of course, Malcolm couldn’t resist one final tantrum.
The agent called me, exasperated. “Alpha Rowena… Beta Malcolm’s refusing to let anyone inside. Claims it’s his house.”
I sighed. “Give me a day.”
That same afternoon, I called the police and filed a report. By sundown, was standing on the porch as two officers escorted Malcolm
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out.
His face was red. “Rowena, how could you do this? This was our wedding house!”
Behind him, Queenie dragged a suitcase like a kicked puppy.
I crossed my arms. “That house was never yours, Malcolm. I paid for the down payment, the furniture, the solar roof, the fridge- and let’s not even start on your laptop and phone. You want to keep whining? I can send you the receipts.”
His mouth opened. “You sold my phone!”
“No, sweetie. I sold my phone. And my laptop. Because I paid for both. Funny how your stuff starts looking like mine when I’m the one who bought it.”
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He looked stunned. Speechless, even.
My wolf was purring inside. Revenge may be a dish best served cold, but this? This was sizzling steak fresh off the grill.
After he was gone, I called the agent and a locksmith. Changed the locks that night.
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