Chosen as the Cursed Alpha's Seventh Bride

Emilia’s POV

I turned to find Fynn walking toward me, two bottles of juice in his hands. He held one out.

"That’s an understatement," I said, taking it. "Thank you. For getting him here in time."

Fynn’s face was serious as he stood beside me, both of us looking out at the city. "I should have noticed sooner. Should have checked on him before it got this bad."

"How did you find him?"

"He didn’t show up for work today. Didn’t answer his phone either." Fynn’s jaw tightened. "I used my spare key. The smell of alcohol hit me the second I opened the door. Empty bottles everywhere, Emilia. And he was just lying on the floor, unconscious."

My stomach turned. "How long was he like that?"

"I don’t know. But long enough." He paused. "I haven’t seen him this bad in years. Not since Abigail."

There it was. The name that hung over everything between Sebastian and me.

Fynn was quiet for a moment, then went on. "You know what she did to him. The wedding, Damien, all of it. It nearly destroyed him. It took him years to even think about loving someone again." He looked at me. "And then you showed up. For the first time since Abigail, I saw him actually smile like he meant it. He told me he wanted to try again. To really let himself love someone."

The words sat heavy in my chest.

"But then everything happened with Richie Lind," I said hollowly. "And now he thinks I was just using him like everyone else."

"Were you?"

"No." The word came out fierce, almost angry. "Whatever he believes, whatever evidence he thinks he has, I never used him. I never wanted to hurt him."

Fynn studied my face for a long moment. Then he nodded slowly. "I believe you."

"It doesn’t matter what you believe," I said tiredly. "It matters what he believes. And right now, he’s sure I’m just another Abigail."

"Maybe." Fynn took a sip of his juice. "But there’s something you should know. Last night, before he ended up here, he called me. He was already drunk, barely making sense. But he told me something."

I waited, my heart pounding.

"Your sister went to his apartment," Fynn said, his voice hardening. "Linda. She said things to him, Emilia. Cruel things. About his past, about Abigail, about how he’s pathetic for letting women walk all over him. She laughed at him. Called him worse than a fool."

Rage flooded through me so fast that Eve snarled in my head.

"She did what?" My voice came out deadly quiet.

"He told me he felt like he was dying inside," Fynn said. "Said maybe Linda was right. Maybe he really was worse than a fool. That’s why he kept drinking. That’s why he didn’t stop until his body gave out."

My hands were shaking. I gripped the bottle so tight I heard the plastic crackle.

"I’m telling you all this because Abigail is never coming back," Fynn said, steady but firm. "You’re the only one who can pull him out of this. If you give up now, his life is over."

The tears came before I could stop them.

I hated crying. Hated feeling this powerless.

"I know," I choked out. "I won’t give up on him."

Fynn nodded and left me alone.

I walked back to Sebastian’s room. The ICU was quiet except for the beep of monitors. Sebastian lay still, his face pale against the sheets. Even unconscious, he looked exhausted.

I pulled the chair closer and reached for his hand. It was cold.

"You have to wake up, Sebastian," I whispered, holding his hand to my chest. "Here’s the thing. Under all my sharp words and pride, I’m just as scared as you are. Loving someone terrifies me. It always has. But I found the courage to love you, the same way you found the courage to move past Abigail and let me in."

He didn’t move. His hand stayed cold in mine.

I lifted it to my mouth and breathed warm air against his skin. Then I traced the line of his jaw, the dark lashes against his cheeks.

I leaned down and pressed my lips to his. Dry and still, but I kissed him anyway. Kissed his nose, his closed eyelids, then moved to whisper against his ear.

"Feelings can come back," I said softly, my voice breaking. "We can get back what we lost. We just have to be brave enough to try."

I stayed by his side all night. When dawn broke, I made my decision.

I sent a mind-link to the pack house. "I need four warriors. The strongest you have. Meet me at the Frostridge Pack border in an hour."

"Are you sure about this?" Eve stirred.

"Absolutely. Linda crossed a line."

"Good," Eve growled. "Let’s make her regret it."

An hour later, I stood at the Frostridge border, four Silver Moon warriors flanking me. Elite fighters, all muscle, the kind my father’s pack would think twice about.

Dorothy Ryles answered the door and froze when she saw me. "What are you doing here?"

"Where’s Linda?" I walked past her.

"You can’t just barge in, you ungrateful..."

"Mom, who’s at the door?" Linda drifted down the stairs, hair a mess, in silk pajamas. She yawned, then froze when she saw me.

A slow, mocking smile spread across her face. "Well, well. You really are clueless, Emilia. Don’t you know you’re the last person this family wants to see?"

"Funny," I said. "I was just thinking the same about you."

I crossed the room and slapped her across the face. The sound cracked through the room.

Linda’s head snapped sideways, her hand flying to her cheek. "How DARE you..."

I slapped her again before she could finish.

"You bitch!" She lunged, her wolf rising, her eyes flashing.

I was ready. I used her own weight against her and kicked her legs out. She went flying back, her head slamming the edge of the coffee table with a hard thud. A bump swelled on her temple.

"My daughter!" Dorothy threw herself at me. "How dare you touch my baby girl!"

Two warriors caught her easily and pinned her arms. She thrashed and screamed, but they held her like she weighed nothing.

The other two forced Linda onto her knees.

I walked toward Dorothy, and her eyes widened with real fear.

"This slap," I said, striking her hard across the face, "is for my mother. For every cruel word you said to her. For every time you made her feel small."

Dorothy gasped, tears springing to her eyes.

"And this one," I said, slapping her again, harder, "is for me. For every single day I put up with your poison under this roof."