The End After Ten Years of Pain

Debbie’s POV

Ten years. I gave Alpha Darrell Armstrong a full decade of loyalty, love, and belief in promises that never bore fruit. I had clung to every sweet lie—how he claimed I was his chosen mate, how I was meant to be Luna of the Bloodmoon Pack. But lies unravel eventually, especially when someone else walks in wearing the guise of innocence.

Her name was Carla Conley.

She arrived clutching a letter from her Alpha father, asking for sanctuary after the Shadowgrove Pack fell under siege. Darrell didn’t hesitate—he took her in like she was royalty, offering warmth and protection I hadn’t seen from him in months. From then on, I became invisible.

I didn’t even know how I survived that night.

Two days ago, I finally reached out to my parents after returning from the healer, my voice a thread of strength barely holding.

“Ma,” I told her quietly, “I’ll marry the man you chose for me. Tell him I accept.”

I still can’t forget what happened. It was the Moon Festival—an event Darrell and I once treated like our sacred tradition. But that night, I stood alone among shimmering lights and laughter that didn’t belong to me anymore.

He handed me a wine glass, his eyes cold. “Don’t make a scene in front of the Werewolf King’s council, Debbie. Just drink.”

The rim of the glass touched my lips. A scent. Sweet. Overripe berries. My stomach twisted with dread.

“Darrell, I—”

“Drink it,” he hissed without meeting my eyes, already turning back to Carla. She laughed softly beside him, the sound grating like broken glass.

Berries. He knew they could kill me. I’d told him, years ago. He didn’t forget. He simply didn’t care. Or maybe... she liked that wine, and that was enough.

I drank it anyway.

For love. For a loyalty he didn’t deserve. For a place I no longer belonged to.

Fire slid down my throat, followed by pain sharp enough to make my knees buckle. My lips began to blister, my breath shortened into strangled gasps. The music kept playing—Carla’s favorite songs filling the air as my vision blurred.

I stumbled forward.

“Darrell,” I rasped.

He didn’t look at me. He was too busy letting Carla cling to him, her dainty fingers wrapped around his arm like vines.

Then he said it—soft and sweet, the way he used to speak to me.

“No more wine, Carla. You’re already tipsy.”

And my heart shattered.

“I… can’t… breathe,” I whispered, my throat closing fast. I coughed, the taste of blood filling my mouth. “Alpha Darrell, please. Help me…”

He finally turned, one step closer.

Then Carla whimpered.

“My stomach… it hurts, Alpha Darrell. Something’s wrong!”

He didn’t hesitate. Not for a heartbeat.

He scooped her into his arms like she was breakable glass, his face full of worry. “What is it, Carla? Talk to me.”

I watched through tear-filled eyes, unable to move. My wolf howled in my chest, furious and wounded.

“Darrell…” I croaked again.

Silence fell.

The crowd turned to me. I was swaying on weak legs, blood at the corner of my mouth, choking on the very poison he’d handed me.

And still—he scowled.

“What now, Debbie?” he barked. “Carla needs a healer. Stop pretending. Stop being jealous all the time.”

Pretending?

Jealous?

Those words cut deeper than my body’s reaction.

I collapsed to my knees, the world tilting and spinning. Darkness clouded my vision.

You loved me once.

Now, you’re letting me die.

And somehow… I’m still the villain in your story.

I hate you, Darrell Armstrong.

With every breath I can’t take, I hate you.

And as everything faded to black, one thought lingered—

Is this how my story ends?