Mark of Sin: Bound to the Cruel Alpha

The door slammed shut behind me, and I nearly collapsed into the room. My legs buckled from a cold so brutal it felt like acid eating into my bones. A violent tremor racked my whole body, and my skin prickled with a sharp, electric sting—like needles before a collapse, though I knew it was just the frost.

The dormitory hallway had been stiflingly warm, thick with the heavy, mingling scents of other wolves’ dinners, but it hadn’t touched the chill deep inside me. I was frozen to the marrow, drenched from the relentless downpour I’d endured while crossing half the city on foot, trying to mask my scent from any wandering predators.

"Good gods, you’re freezing! Get inside, quickly!"

Annie erupted from the bathroom like a whirlwind. Her fingers clamped around my wrist—her grip surprisingly tight, a flash of non-human strength—and she hauled me over the threshold so fast I stumbled.

The room immediately hit me with the rich, soothing scent of hot chocolate. Sweet, safe, and comforting.

She ripped the heavy duvet off her bed and flung it over my shoulders, burying me in it like a newborn pup. I tried to pull back, acutely aware of how filthy and soaked I was.

"Annie, stop, I’m covered in road grit... my clothes are ruined..."

She didn’t even listen, completely ignoring my protests with a stubborn grunt. Snatching my frozen, claw-stiffened hands, she forced a mug into my grip. It was scalding hot, smeared with thick chocolate.

"It’s just a duvet cover. Forget it, I’ll wash it," she dismissed with a reckless wave of her hand, already darting toward the mini-fridge. She yanked out a carton of milk and a tin of cocoa.

I took a desperate gulp from the mug, closing my eyes as the liquid burned my tongue and cascaded down my throat like liquid fire. Only then did I realize just how close to the edge I’d been.

The heat seeped deep into my chest, slowly thawing my lungs, my racing heart, and the frantic, feral thoughts swirling in my head.

I wrapped the heavy duvet tighter around my shoulders, feeling the phantom heat finally begin to wage war against the bone-deep chill. My fingers were still stiff and uncooperative, but the ceramic mug offered a steady anchor of warmth against my palms.

I was thoroughly frozen. And it wasn’t just the unforgiving autumn night; it was that bastard on the highway who had deliberately accelerated into a massive puddle, drenching me in muddy water without a single backward glance.

And every single bit of it was Magnus Rainn’s fault.

While I was away in the university restroom, desperately trying to calm my racing pulse, he had simply started his engine and driven off. He abandoned me in the middle of the city at midnight without a single word.

A clinic nurse, pale as a ghost and too terrified to look me in the eye, had delivered the blow: "Master Rainn commanded me to inform you that urgent pack business required his attention. You are permitted to return to the dormitory on your own."

The shock had rippled through me from head to toe, leaving a sickening hollowness in its wake. My entire life was left in his car—my bag, my wallet, my lecture notes, everything.

My phone was dead, the midnight air was biting, and the city buses had long stopped running. I had walked for two agonizing hours under a relentless, freezing drizzle, with empty pockets, throbbing feet, and a mind screaming with unanswered questions.

Why? How could anyone—let alone him—do this? He was my fated mate. A forced one, but still. He was an Alpha. A prime predator whose genetic code was supposed to hardwire him to protect, to guard, to shelter his breeder mate.

Was I just a joke to him? A temporary amusement? If he could discard me on a whim like this on the very night our marks aligned, perhaps he never intended to claim me at all.

A cold, stark realization crystallized in my mind: nothing good would ever come from this bond. We would never find common ground, not with an Alpha who looked down on me as if I were nothing more than a stray pup, a piece of property to be handled at his convenience.

Annie returned, carrying a fresh, steaming mug piled high with melting marshmallows. She claimed the rickety desk chair across from me, pulling her legs up into her favorite panda pajamas—a birthday gift I’d bought her six months ago.

The cheap fleece was already pilling, the seams stretching precariously, yet she wore it with a stubborn pride. I knew for a fact she owned luxurious silk loungewear from before her family’s estrangement, and I genuinely couldn’t fathom why she refused to throw this ragged thing away.

It was a geriatric piece of clothing, well past its prime.

She tucked her knees against her chest and rested her chin on them, tracking me with an unblinking gaze. I eyed the fragile wooden chair under her shifting weight, idly wondering if tonight would be the night the legs finally gave out.