POV

Did I ever tell you the story of how I rejected what an unseen deity imposed on me and what romantics called a “soul mate”?

Yes, I did start to narrate that sad story but then I was interrupted by the wereball match between my pack and Dark Diamond’s.

Well, here it is ... It all started with a voice.

But let me take a step back and let me give you a certain introduction.

Werewolves believed that a wereball game was violent. A modern excuse for punching, kicking and biting. This was a true certified fact.

However, the events after the match were no less bloody. Maybe even worse. You see, wereball players are used to be beaten and are professionals at punching back. Common werewolves inevitably no. Also, in the after game you could use items like baseball bats, car seats and so on ... and here you get the perfect war cocktail.

Anything could happen in the ‘after game’. From hand-to-hand combat, wolf to wolf, warriors teasing Betas, Alphas throwing firecrackers at other Alphas and so on.

What did not belong in a wereball arena was rejection... at least until that day ...

In reality, rejections were unheard of among werewolves communities.

Why on earth would you reject the other half of your soul, inflict pain on purpose and stab your wolf heart? What excuse would you have for this?

Would a lie be enough to reject the missing part of your soul? Or would a betrayal be horrible enough to live with half a heart? According to Makena, no.

So what? W

A busy life that didn’t involve the appearance of a soul mate? Or what if my life’s goals don’t fit anything else? What if life was too short to take the time to love someone else? What if I had to sacrifice my happiness, my mate, for a greater purpose? For research? For the common good?

My goals were well centered and as clear as freshly filtered water.

From the moment I met my mate, everything I had built was thrown out the window. For a second, I almost forgot about my grandfather.

When my eyes got lost in his and recognition flashed through my brain, producing an indelible tattoo with every detail of his perfect face, the sparks tried to cloud my alert mind.

“I reject you as my mate.”

These are not normally the words that would escape a wolf’s muzzle when fully recognizing a mate.

Never have I ever witnessed such a storm of emotions. Shock, fury, sadness, bitterness, disbelief. I could almost feel the pieces of his heart roll on the bloody ground after the wereball battle.

I could see the werewolf literally crumbling at my feet. I was a Medusa, I had petrified him with my presence and then hit him with a club and broke him into a thousand pieces.

“I accept your rejection.”

This time I was the one who disintegrated.

When Tiziano touched my arm, I barely recognized his touch. My eyes lingered on my former soul mate. On the other half of my heart.

I always thought I was going to die of cancer, like my hero did. My grandfather was taken away from me, he never managed to teach me to drive a car like he promised, he never managed to come to my diploma as he assured me. Years and years without him, robbed by human laziness and human underdevelopment, simply because there was no cure. Yet.

He was there and then he was polluted with a disease that fed on his brain cells. Little Ian was not far from the same fate; the robber was different but the final destination the same. For Ian, it was even worse ... he knew he would die from his first breath, without even giving him the benefit of life. The disease was born within him. Part of him, like an extra organ.

Since then, getting into medical school and fighting, fighting, fighting was all I wanted.

“Are you sure?” I barely heard my roommate’s voice as if he were very far away. My eyes remained fixed on the receding figure. As the distance increased, my heart rate approached death.

My only response to my mate, after he had accepted my refusal, was a sob.

But his wolf must have heard it as he paused for a second. All stiff and tense. When he turned around, all I saw was tears that refused to leave his eyes, proud and breath-taking.

He roared menacingly when he saw Tiziano touch my shoulder but then shook his head, kicked some thugs that were nearby and walked away.

From my life.

When I heard someone cry I didn’t know it was me. When the ground moved and hit me hard, I realized my legs had abandoned me.

“Come on baby, let’s go home. He left.”

Arms picked me up and lifted me.

“What happened to her?” Lachlan was right there.

“Hey! hey! Stay with us! Amaia!? Amaia god damn it!”

All I wanted was my mate.

The one thing I couldn’t have. The one thing I couldn’t afford.

Life was too short. And I had no time.

AN/ That was Amaia’s POV eheh

Next update on Sunday!

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