Chapter 53: Alma’s Seventh Rule
Arabella Pov [Cameo Pov Apperance] | A Few of minutes later
"You see this—" Ophelia says, her voice calmer than all of us as she points to the torn flesh on Lorali’s shoulder. The wound convulses, pus bubbling up through the blood, the skin twitching as if alive. "This is what’s killing her. It’s a corrupted bond, and those only form in one of two ways. Either the Alpha who bit her let go too soon as I’m sure you know, Alphas are supposed to hold the bite for at least thirty minutes to secure the bond or he rejected her immediately after he placed it. Judging by the gravity of this wound, I’d say both things happened."
Her words slice through the silence, and we all stand frozen around the bed, staring at Lorali’s body in horror.
Dark, vine‑like lines crawl across her skin, pulsing beneath the surface as if something monstrous is trying to claw its way out. Her frame is skeletal, her complexion ghostly pale, her body riddled with whip marks that have healed poorly as scars that scream of pain she tried to hide.
It doesn’t take a genius to know how those wounds were made. She looks like death itself has already claimed her, and the sight makes my stomach twist. I knew pieces of the truth, but never the full extent. I didn’t think she would let it get this bad. If she was suffering this bad in pack Spade, why didn’t she leave? Alma would have fought for her, would have tended to her, would have saved her.
"I don’t understand," Vanya whispers, her voice trembling, her eyes locked on Lorali’s frail body. "Why did she collapse like this? Why nearly die now, of all times? What triggered it?"
Ophelia’s hands move quickly, wrapping bandages around Lorali’s shoulder with the practiced calm of a surgeon. Without her, we would have been helpless. Minutes ago we thought Lorali was gone, but Ophelia acted without hesitation, cutting away the rotting flesh on Lorali’s shoulder, slicing through the bonding mark to stop the venom from spreading. The smell of burned skin and blood still lingers in the air, thick and metallic. She said it’s only a temporary solution. The skin will heal, and when it does, the mark will return, stronger than before.
"Well, though it’s extremely rare, it happens," Ophelia explains, her voice steady even as the room trembles with fear. "Most people don’t even know it exists. She’s bound to the one who placed the mark. That’s why she reacted like this."
Susie’s voice shakes as she speaks, her body stiff with trauma. She’s still drenched in blood waist down because she refuses to wash it away, her eyes wide and glassy. "I’ve never heard of this," she murmurs, her words breaking apart like fragile glass.
"As I said, it’s rare," Ophelia continues, tightening the bandage with firm hands. "This only happens if the bond was fated by the moon goddess. If it wasn’t, she’d just have a corrupted bond that hurts, nothing more. But when it’s fated, distance from the mate can kill. That’s why she collapsed. That’s why she’s dying."
The chill in the room is suffocating, though the windows are shut tight, the room was cold. Cleo clutches her belly, her voice breaking into a whisper. "Oh my goodness..." She sinks onto the edge of the bed, her knuckles white as she grips the sheets.
I stand there, numb, my mind clawing at the truth my sister‑in‑law has laid bare. Lorali can’t leave her bonded without dying. It all makes sense now, the long dresses to hide the marks, her stubborn refusal to leave, the quiet desperation in her eyes.
"Is she going to die?" I manage to ask, guilt gnawing at me until it feels like my chest is splitting open. This is my fault. I should have listened when she begged to go back. I thought I was helping, but all I’ve done is make things worse. My hands shake, my nails digging into my palms, the weight of my choices pressing down until I can barely breathe.
Ophelia exhales, her tone grim but not without hope. "Yes and no. We can keep cutting away the skin for at most three months. After that, she will need to be in the same room as her bonded mate. Without him, she won’t survive."
The words settle over us like a death sentence, and the silence that follows is heavier than any scream.
"Is that the only way?" I ask, my voice breaking into a croak as I cross my arms tightly over my chest, trying to stop myself from crying. "Is she forever chained to this person she is bonded to, forced to live out her life in suffering? Death is better than living a life worse than death."
Ophelia removes her spectacles, her eyes heavy with exhaustion, and steps away from Lorali after finishing the bandages. "Well, there are only two ways out of this. One—the person who created the bond must do it again, willingly with love. That cancels the first one. Two—he dies. If her mate dies, the bond vanishes with him."
Option one is impossible. Whoever bonded with Lorali would never willingly mark her again after rejecting her. Option two is the only solution. He has to die. And yet, in my mind, it feels like the easy way out after all the pain he has caused her.
"Anyone know a good hitman?" Susie says, her tone meant to sound like a joke, but none of us laugh. We know she means it. She’s voicing what we are all secretly considering—killing the Alpha who bound Lorali, if it means she will finally be free.
"Let’s wait for Lorali to wake up," I say firmly, forcing myself to take a step back. "She can decide what she wants to do. It’s her life, after all." My chest tightens, the air in the room suffocating. "I’ll be right back, I need some air" I add, turning toward the door.
"I’ll go with you," Vanya says softly, and I nod. Seems like we both need that breath of fresh air.
We walk together into my room next door, the silence between us heavy, and step out onto the balcony. The countryside air rushes against my cheeks, cool and calming, carrying the scent of dew and earth. The view is breathtaking, the sun creeping up from the horizon, the sky painted in gentle shades of gold and rose, the morning glow softening the edges of the world.
"You seem lost," I murmur, leaning against the wooden railing, letting the air fill my lungs.
"I blame myself for what’s happening to Lorali," Vanya sighs, her voice thick with guilt. "We live in the same city. I knew something was wrong when she stopped talking in the group, but I was so caught up in my own problems I failed to help her."
"Trouble in paradise, I’m guessing," I say, my words edged with irony. She laughs, but the sound is hollow, stripped of joy.
"My life is everything but a paradise," she admits, her eyes dropping to the diamond ring glittering on her finger. It catches the morning light, dazzling, but her gaze is heavy with sorrow. "I know the media makes it look like I’m living the dream, like I’m having the time of my life, even this ring, it belonged to my main Alpha’s grandmother. It’s supposed to symbolize honor, tradition, permanence, I am supposed to feel love from it but I don’t, to me, it feels like a chain."
I tilt my head, studying her. "Do you need rescuing too? Is your pack just as nonsensical as Lori’s?" I ask, crossing my arms again, bracing for her answer.
She shakes her head slowly. "No. My pack is fine. They’re perfect in their way. I get everything I want. I’m well taken care of. I’m not forced to do anything—" Her voice falters, the words trailing off into the morning air, leaving behind the weight of everything unsaid.
"But—" I interrupt, my voice low, and her shoulders sag beneath the weight of what she is about to confess. "There is no love," she admits, biting her lip as if to hold back the flood of emotion. "I am yet to be bonded, and they use the excuse of waiting until the wedding to do it. Most nights I am alone. They talk to Susie more than they talk to me, and I don’t dare ask why. It would make me look desperate."
Her words cut through me, raw and trembling. It is hard to believe that behind all those perfect pack interviews, behind the glamorization of her life in the media, the truth is so hollow. Her life is nothing like the stories they tell.
"Oh, Vanya," I whisper, pulling her into a hug, holding her tightly though I don’t know what to say. She clings to me, her body shaking, and for a moment I feel her vulnerability pressed against my own.
"You know," she murmurs into my shoulder, "Susie was right. Packs are nothing like what Alma promised us they would be. And you were right too, you always tried to warn us back then." Her voice cracks as she embraces me, and I remember how I was always the negative one when it came to packs. I still am, regardless how good mine is.
"You know," she continues, pulling back slightly, her eyes red, "I probably shouldn’t be saying all of this to you. You and Cleo hit the jackpot. You got exactly what Alma promised."
I shake my head, sighing. "Not exactly. Alma told us the good, never the bad. I think they wanted to tell us, but they knew it would scare us away from packs. And that’s something the council cannot allow."
She wipes her tears, her hands trembling, and asks softly, "If Lorali chooses to return to her pack, are you going to let her?"
"It depends on whether or not I’m sending her off to die," I answer, my voice heavy with guilt. "If she’s going to go back, we’re going to need the old Lorali back, not the doormat Lorali."
Vanya chuckles, lighter this time, though the sound is tinged with sadness. "You want the one who burned our sports teacher’s room because he looked at her oddly?"
I smile faintly at the memory. "Back then, Lorali and Susie were the biggest crashouts, always getting punished for something. It’s hard to believe Lorali would become such a pacifist."
"I know, right? Fifteen‑year‑old Lori would have destroyed Spade pack. They’d be the ones crying, not her. Pity Alma diminished that flame."
"Not completely," I say firmly. "I’m sure she’s still there, buried under all that rubble. I’m sure we can dig her up."
"And if not?" Vanya asks, her eyes narrowing.
"Then every single member of Spade will die from unforeseen circumstances, and she’ll inherit Spade Industries, the company Torin loves so much. That would be gold. A decent revenge." My voice hardens, and I mean every word. I am willing to be involved in murder if it means Lori will be free. She is my best friend. I will do anything for her.
"You really take Alma’s seventh rule to heart," Vanya says, her tone almost impressed.
"The world would be kinder if we all followed those rules," I reply, my gaze drifting toward the horizon. "I’m sure Lorali wouldn’t have gone through half the things she did. But because the world and other omegas don’t follow them, she suffered, because she followed them and they made her weak."
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