Calvin’s POV
It had been over six torturous months since Kamrynn vanished, leaving nothing behind but the gaping void of her absence. Every lead, every effort to track her down had led to dead ends, and the frustration of failure gnawed at me like a relentless parasite.
Not a single day passed without her invading my thoughts. She was a phantom that haunted me, her image etched into my mind with cruel precision. I could almost feel her skin beneath my fingers-soft, warm, yielding. My hands itched with the memory of her trembling against me, her quivering voice pleading for mercy. That sound, that desperate, broken sound, echoed in my head like a forbidden melody.
I groaned, my head falling back against the chair as the fantasy overtook me. My body tightened with need, an insistent ache that refused to be ignored. The thought of being inside her again, of reclaiming what was mine, sent a rush of heat spiraling through me.
She was carrying my child. That was the excuse I clung to, the justification for the maddening obsession that consumed me. She had taken an integral piece of me with her when she fled, and the primal need to reclaim it-to reclaim her-burned hotter with every passing day.
But it only made things worse. The thought of her swollen with my child, her body round and ripe, haunted me with an intensity that bordered on unbearable. I wondered where she was, if she was eating enough, if she was healthy. Did she have that radiant glow Sherelle once had when she carried our child?
Sherelle.
Her name was a dagger to the chest, twisting with every beat of my heart. The memory of her lifeless body, the sight of our child ripped away before they even had a chance to live, clawed at my soul.
I swore then, with every fiber of my being, that I wouldn’t let history repeat itself. As much as I hated Kamrynn, I couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to her while she carried my child.
But after she gave birth…
A bitter smile curled my lips as the thought took hold. After she brought my beautiful, perfect child into the world, her punishment would resume. It would be worse than anything she had endured before, tailored to make her regret every second of her defiance, the stress she was currently putting me through.
She belonged to me-my possession, my plaything, my instrument of release. Breaking her had always been a delicious game, pushing her to the brink of despair but never letting her fall completely. Her torment was a symphony, her pain the sweetest crescendo.
The thought of it, of reducing her to nothing but raw submission, broken and completely at my mercy, sent a pulse of arousal through me. I sucked in a breath, my body hardening with an urgency that caught me off guard.
I hadn’t felt like this in months.
My hand drifted downward, brushing against the bulge in my pants. The friction sent a jolt of pleasure through me, and I palmed myself, stroking slowly as my thoughts continued to spiral.
“This has gone far beyond obsession,” Fenrir snarled in the back of my mind, his voice a sharp, unwelcome intrusion. “You’ve lost control, Calvin. You can’t even see it.”
I clenched my jaw, ignoring him. Fenrir’s disdain had become a constant presence, a voice I’d grown accustomed to drowning out.
A sharp knock at the door shattered the moment.
“Alpha,” Franklin, my Beta’s voice, called from the other side. “I’m coming in.”
Cursing under my breath, I quickly adjusted myself, straightening in my chair as Franklin entered. His expression was grim, but I barely registered it, my mind still clouded with the remnants of my thoughts.
The lines of exhaustion and frustration etched deeply into his face were a reflection of the hell that had become our reality.
“It’s chaos out there,” he began, his voice clipped as he shut the door behind him. “The Pack members have gathered in the lounge. They’re demanding to see you.”
I stiffened, trying to shake off the lingering thoughts of Kamrynn, my hand still unconsciously curling into a fist. “And you can’t handle it?” I snapped, forcing my voice into an authoritative tone. “You’re my Beta, Franklin. This is your responsibility.”
Franklin’s frown deepened. He looked almost insulted, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes-concern. Desperation. “I am handling it, Alpha.” He said slowly, as though explaining to a child. “If I wasn’t, they’d already be barging into your quarters.”
His words hit me like a slap, and I sat up straighter, appalled. “What the hell are you talking about? You can’t possibly be saying-”
“I am,” he interrupted, his tone sharp. “They’re beyond pacification, Calvin. These people are starving. They’re scared. They’re angry. They’re one wrong word away from violence or a full-on revolt. The guards are holding them back for now, but I don’t know how much longer they’ll manage. You need to come out there and do something.”
For a moment, I stared at him, incredulous. My hands clenched into fists, and anger surged hot and fast through my veins. “What exactly do you expect me to do, Franklin?” I barked, my voice echoing through the room. “I can’t make the rain fall! I can’t magically heal the land or cure the sick. Even the damn Earth seems to be against us right now!”
Franklin’s jaw tightened, and he opened his mouth as if to argue, but he stopped himself. The silence that followed was suffocating.
I stood abruptly, pacing the room as frustration clawed at my chest. “How did it come to this?” I muttered, more to myself than to him. My mind raced, trying to pinpoint the moment everything began to spiral.
In the period of Kamrynn’s absence, the Obsidian Pack had become a shadow of its former self.
The land, once lush and abundant, was now barren. The fields where crops once thrived were cracked and dry, the soil hardened to the point where even weeds refused to grow. The rivers and streams that once flowed through the territory had dwindled to mere trickles, and the reservoirs were nearly empty.
For over four months, the skies had refused to open. The once-vibrant forest surrounding the Pack was now eerily silent, the trees skeletal and stripped bare. Food was scarce, water even scarcer, and desperation was a constant undercurrent among the Pack members. The drought had affected animals too, killing most of them so hunting could no longer sustain us. We were running out of options.
Diseases had begun to spread-a strange, insidious plague that ravaged both the young and old alike. Skin blistered and peeled, fevers ran high, and no amount of herbs or treatments seemed to work. The Pack’s doctors were overwhelmed, their faces pale with exhaustion and despair as they tried, and failed, to save the afflicted.
The once-strong warriors of my Pack had become frail, their strength sapped by hunger and illness. The children were no better, their hollow eyes and gaunt faces haunting reminders of how dire the situation had become.
And then there were the whispers.
Other Packs, hearing of the disasters plaguing the Obsidian Pack, had branded us cursed. They believed we had incurred the wrath of the Moon Goddess, and as a result, they refused to trade with us or offer any aid. The Obsidian Pack was isolated, cut off from the outside world, and left to wither on its own.
I had tried everything within my power to alleviate the suffering-rationing food, redistributing resources-but it was never enough. No matter what I did, the situation only worsened.
As if the weight of leading a dying Pack wasn’t enough, my nights were plagued by torment.
Every time I closed my eyes, the nightmares came.
In these dreams, I was surrounded by shadows that twisted and writhed, their whispers venomous and accusing. Sometimes I saw Kamrynn, her face pale and lifeless as she reached for me with bloodied hands. Other times, I saw Sherelle, her voice echoing in my ears, asking why I couldn’t save her.
The dreams were vivid, visceral, and every time I woke, my heart pounded and my body was drenched in sweat.
Even Fenrir, my wolf, had turned against me. He had grown restless, his voice in my mind sharp and accusing. “You’ve failed them,” he would growl. “The Pack is dying because of you.”
His once-loyal presence had become a voice of scorn, a reminder of every mistake I’d made. He whispered of doom, of the downfall of the Pack, and no matter how much I tried to block him out, his words lingered like poison.
The constant torment was driving me to the brink. I hadn’t slept properly in weeks, my body and mind fraying under the relentless pressure. Every waking moment was consumed by the knowledge that I was losing control, that the Pack I had sworn to protect was slipping through my fingers.
I stopped pacing and turned back to Franklin, my fists clenched at my sides. “Do you think I don’t know how bad things are?” I hissed, my voice trembling with suppressed rage. “Do you think I don’t see it every time I look at them? The despair, the anger, the betrayal in their eyes? They blame me, Franklin. They blame me, and maybe they’re right to.”
Franklin’s expression softened slightly, but he didn’t respond.
I sank into my chair, my head in my hands. My breaths came shallow and fast, and for a moment, it felt like the walls were closing in. The weight of it all-the Pack’s suffering, my own failures, the nightmares-was suffocating.
“What am I supposed to do?” I whispered, my voice barely audible.
Franklin stepped closer, his tone gentler now. “You’re the Alpha, Calvin. You don’t have to have all the answers, but you can’t let them see you like this. They need to believe in you, even if you don’t believe in yourself right now.”
I looked up at him, his words striking something deep within me. For a moment, I hated him for being right.
I hated the world for crumbling around me.
But most of all, I hated Kamrynn for leaving me in this hell.