Alpha, Your Lock Betrayed Me Chapter 05
Lysander’s POV
Morrigan rested against the raised hospital bed, her color much better than when she had arrived.
“Lysander, I feel a lot better. Don’t worry,” she said softly.
Lysander sat on the couch beside the bed. “Okay,” he murmured, without looking up.
His wolf paced restlessly inside him. He tried to reach Willa through their mind link, but she didn’t respond.
The mate bond offered nothing but darkness.
Lysander sent Willa a message.
Lysander: [Are you asleep?]
Five minutes passed with no reply.
He sent another.
Lysander: [I’ll look at the documents tomorrow. Stop being mad.]
The ER fell quiet as dawn approached.
Lysander leaned back and closed his eyes, but he couldn’t sleep.
Willa’s last message kept circling through his mind.
Willa: [No need.]
The notification had been short and final, like a door clicking shut.
His mind went to Willa’s birthday the month before.
He’d sent her money on Venmo. The note read:
[Buy yourself something you like.]
Willa had answered with a single word: [Thanks.]
That was all.
At the time, he hadn’t thought anything of it.
Now, he wondered if that was when she had stopped expecting anything from him.
Morrigan was discharged after sunrise.
The nurse said she was out of danger and should rest at home.
Lysander completed the discharge paperwork and drove her home.
Morrigan settled into the passenger seat, her voice soft and sweet again.
“Lysander, last night scared me to death. Thank God you were there.”
“Keep your inhaler with you from now on,” Lysander said.
Morrigan smiled. “When I have you, I’m not afraid of anything.”
Lysander didn’t answer.
He set his phone face up on the center console.
At the first red light, he glanced down.
No message.
At the second red light, he looked again.
Still nothing.
After dropping Morrigan off, Lysander didn’t go upstairs.
He stayed in the car.
He thought of every move he’d helped Morrigan with, every pipe he’d fixed, every meal he’d delivered.
He’d always treated those things as his responsibility.
They had grown up together, and running for Beta was no small thing.
But as he stared at Willa’s final message, he realized she was his future Luna. The weight waiting for her would be even heavier. And he had never once asked if she was okay.
…
Willa’s POV
My train left at two a.m.
I bought a coach ticket. Only a handful of passengers were scattered through the car.
I blocked Lysander’s number and archived our WhatsApp thread so it disappeared from my main inbox.
By dawn, I had arrived in Redpine City.
I checked into a budget hotel near the station.
The front desk clerk asked how long I planned to stay.
“Not sure yet,” I said. “I’ll see how it goes.”
In my room, I set down my suitcase, pulled up the local job boards, and started searching for work in Redpine City.
…
Lysander’s POV
Lysander returned to the estate.
He kicked off his shoes and crossed into the living room.
One couch pillow still held the faint indentation from the last time Willa had hugged it.
He smoothed it flat, then stood in the middle of the room and looked around.
He couldn’t name what was wrong, but the estate felt emptier.
More than that, Willa’s scent had faded.
He had been so accustomed to her scent that he’d never bothered to wonder where she was.
Now it had faded only a little, and Silas was already snarling like a caged animal.
He pushed open the study door.
The desk was bare. The envelope was gone.
He froze, then searched the drawers.
The few things Willa had kept there were gone too.
He pulled out his phone and called her.
It rang until it stopped. No answer.
The second call was rejected.
The third went straight to voicemail. She’d blocked him.
Lysander stood before the closet for a long time, his phone clenched in one hand.
Only then did he understand that Willa wasn’t simply angry.
She had left.
Pain began to spread through the mate bond. Why had it come so late? Why hadn’t it warned him sooner?
He drove to her apartment.
The moment he stepped inside, he knew.
Half the living room was gone. Most of the closet was empty.
Yet the floors were spotless, the stovetop scrubbed to a shine.
She’d even taken out the trash.
One word surfaced in his mind.
Retreat.