"I may be your second chance, Wade, but I will not be your second choice."
Reeling from the death of his mate, Alpha Wade tried everything in his power to bring her back to life. So consumed with raising her from the dead, he almost missed his secon...
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"VIOLET, wait up," Wade's voice flooded my senses, falling over me like a soft blanket.
My shoulders relaxed, and my resolve started to chip away. He was here, and the chaos surrounding my life didn't matter because he was here.
But it did matter.
He was here today, but he did not show up yesterday.
I had been handed some of the most devastating news of my life, and he watched me drive away. He let me go.
Perhaps he was having remorse.
Or, perhaps, he wasn't here as my mate.
Maybe he was here because, on top of being my mate, he was also my Alpha.
Despite all of this, none of it mattered. He had strung me along. And sure, it may have been in an attempt to help the pack, but his intentions—no matter how good or well-meaning—did not erase reality: he had tried to bring his first mate, Willow, back to life.
He tried to bring her back to life all while filling my mind, body, and soul with hope. Hope that our bond would flourish into something more. And I felt so stupid. So, so stupid because he had never explicitly said so.
His words had led me to believe—led me to feel—there was something more between us, that there still was something between us. But he had made his decision.
He had chosen her.
And, on top of it all, my brother was on the brink of death. In the blink of an eye, I would be attending my little brother's funeral, so none of it mattered. None of it. None of it mattered besides Henry and being there for him in his last moments.
"Violet," his voice faltered, and I did not give in to the temptation to turn around. He did not deserve my attention, but my strength was slipping. My brother was dying a couple rooms over, and my mate, who had dragged me around on a road trip to resurrect his dead mate, was standing too close for comfort. Not to mention, Dad had broken down right in front of me.
My entire world was up in flames, and Wade was adding fuel to the fire.
I needed to be strong. But I didn't trust myself to be strong around him.
For all his faults and wrongdoings, he made me soft where I thought I was stone cold.
I could not turn around. Otherwise, the world might truly come crumbling down.
I stood rooted in place, fists clenched at my sides as my eyes shut. I would not turn around.
Wade's featherlight touch landed on my shoulder, and against my better judgment, I defied the logical side of my senses and turned around.
"Wade," I breathed, his name escaping my lips. Wade. My mate.
He looked worse for wear. The dull hospital lights hit his face just right to illuminate the scar under his eye. His eyes were tinted red, and he had deep, purple bags underneath both of them. He ran his hands up and down his arms, one leg slightly jetted out.
