Chosen as the Cursed Alpha's Seventh Bride

Sebastian’s POV

I told myself I was going back for my clothes. Just clothes. Nothing more.

Ryder had been growling in my head. "She’s sick. Our mate is sick."

"She’s not our mate," I’d snapped back. "She’s a liar who played us both."

But when Tiffany said how sick Emilia looked, something twisted in my chest. Something I didn’t want to name.

The pack house came into view, warm light glowing in the windows. I killed the engine and sat there, gripping the wheel until my knuckles went white.

Just get your stuff and leave. Don’t look at her. Don’t think about her.

I pushed through the front door. Mom’s face lit up with hope. "Son..."

I brushed past her without a word and took the stairs two at a time. The bedroom door was closed. I shoved it open harder than I needed to, like I could scare my own guilt into backing down.

Emilia was propped up against the pillows, her face pale. When she saw me, something flickered in those blue eyes. Surprise. Hope. Then it died just as fast.

"You’re back," she said quietly.

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer. If I opened my mouth, I might say something I’d regret. Or worse, something I meant.

I yanked open the wardrobe and started shoving clothes into my bag. Shirts. Pants. It didn’t matter what. I just needed my hands full of something other than the urge to reach for her.

"She looks terrible," Ryder whined. "Just talk to her. Just..."

"Shut up."

Behind me, I heard the sheets rustle. She was turning away. Good. I didn’t need to see her face, didn’t need to know if she was crying. I’d stayed strong this long. I could make it another ten minutes.

The bag zipped shut with a hard jerk. I grabbed it and headed for the door.

But at the threshold, I stopped. My wolf snarled a warning. I ignored him.

"Just like that, and you’re sick?" The words came out cold, meant to hurt. "You’re using an illness to make me feel guilty? Looks like I didn’t underestimate you. You overestimated yourself."

I didn’t wait to see her reaction. I was out the door before she could say a word, before I could see if I’d made her cry, before I could take it back.

Ryder went silent after that. The drive to my apartment was the quietest my head had been in months.

The days blurred together. Wake up. Stare at the ceiling. Pour a drink. Repeat.

I was on my third glass of whiskey when someone knocked. I almost didn’t answer. But the knocking kept going, until I finally dragged myself off the couch.

When I opened the door, Linda Taylor stood there with a smile too wide to trust.

"Hi, brother-in-law," she purred. "Long time no see."

I leaned against the doorframe, already tired. "Do you have any idea how thick-skinned you are?"

Her smile slipped, but she recovered fast, her laugh sharp and forced. "You’re so funny, brother-in-law. Good thing I’m not the petty type. I won’t take your jokes to heart."

"Who’s joking? I’m completely serious. Has no one ever told you how thick-skinned you are?"

Her laugh died. "I know you’re in a bad mood. That’s why I’m here. To comfort you." She leaned in, batting her lashes. "Won’t you let me in?"

I stayed in the doorway. "No. The best comfort you can give me is never showing your face again. And that makeup?" I let my eyes drag over her face. "Without it, your face turns my stomach. With it? It’s worse. Now you’re ugly and fake."

"Sebastian Simons!"

There it was. The mask cracked. She dropped the sweet act and spat my full name like a curse.

"You think I want to see you?" she snarled. "I just felt sorry for you! Don’t think I don’t know you’ve been betrayed before my sister. A man cheated on by that many women is pathetic. You’re born to be betrayed. And here I am, a woman who’s sincere, willing to stand by you, and you don’t even know how to appreciate it! You humiliate me instead! Do you think..."

My hand shot out and closed around her throat. Her words cut off into a wheeze.

"How dare you," I said quietly, "come to my door and run your mouth? You want to die?"

I squeezed. Her face went from red to white. She clawed at my hand, eyes wide with terror.

"Brother-in-law," she gasped, "please... calm down... I’m sorry... I apologize... Please let go... If you kill me... my sister won’t forgive you..."

The mention of Emilia cut straight through my rage. I shoved her away. She hit the ground hard, gasping and sobbing."If you come here again," I said, my voice dead calm, "you won’t leave alive."

I slammed the door in her face.

For a moment, there was silence. Then I heard her scramble to her feet, heard her voice rise to a shriek outside my door.

"You heartless bastard! You can only show off in front of me! You don’t even dare touch those women who walked all over you! One ran off with another man, the other used you like a fool, and here you are hiding like a coward! You’re pathetic! Last time in your office, didn’t you ask if you were worse than a fool? I’ll tell you now. You really are! At least a fool’s never been played by a woman! Hahaha!"

Her laughter was shrill and manic, grating on every nerve I had left.

Something inside me snapped.

I grabbed the container I kept ready for situations like this. Silver-laced water, the kind that burned wolf skin on contact. And I yanked the door open.

Linda’s laughter cut off when she saw my face.

I threw the whole thing at her.

She screamed as the liquid hit, the silver already burning. She stumbled back, clawing at her face, her designer clothes soaked through.

"What... what is this?!" she shrieked.

I leaned against the doorframe, calm."A reminder that some lines shouldn’t be crossed."

Her face twisted with horror and rage as the burns started to show, red welts rising on her skin. Not permanent. But painful enough to remember.

"Next time," I said softly, "think before you speak."

I closed the door on her screams.