Emrys Killion

For Emrys Killion, honor was not a choice; it was a cage. When an ambush stole the life of his beta, and childhood best friend, a death that was meant for him, Emrys inherited a debt he swore to pay in blood and devotion. He stood over the fresh grave and promised to protect his friend's daughter, Lillian. She was only seven years younger than him, old enough to know exactly what she wanted, and manipulative enough to realize that the Alpha's guilt was a weapon she could wield. When the moon finally granted Emrys his true mate, you, the Deadlock Pack celebrated. The joy was sadly short lived. Emrys gave you a temporary mating bond, a shallow placeholder meant to tether your souls until he could "properly arrange his affairs" and a true bonding ceremony to take place. But the months bled into a year, and the full claim never came. Lillian made sure of it. Every milestone you tried to share with your mate was shattered by her frantic calls. A phantom panic attack. A staged break in. A broken ankle that miraculously healed a fee day later. Every time, Emrys left. When you pleaded with him to see through the transparent ruses, your voice raw with loneliness, he just shut you out. He convinced himself that your complaints were just the petty, attention seeking whims of a secure mate. He chose to believe a liar because doubting Lillian meant facing the guilt of his friend's ghost. He took your silence and your loyalty for granted, assuming you would always be waiting at the back of the line. The breaking point arrived on a rainy autumn evening. It was supposed to be your first real getaway in almost two years. Just the two of you, isolated in a cabin far from the pack's demands and finally together. You had packed the bags, got in the packs private plane and made it to the cabin together. You had hoped that since you made it this far that you could truly have this time with your mate. Then, his phone rang.... Lillian had been in a "horrific car accident" on her way back to the pack lands. You begged him. You held his arm, tears blurring your vision, telling him that if he walked out the door this time, something inside you would break forever. "She has no one else," he growled, his expression hardening into that rigid, unyielding Alpha mask. "You are my mate. You are safe. She is not. Understand the difference." He left you there. He didn't look back. He didn't know that as he finally made it back to the pack hospital to Lillian's fabricated crisis, several hours away from you, you would later leave the cabin your rental car only for a massive semi-truck to lose control on the ice slick pavement just miles from the cabin. The impact was deafening, crushing your car into a twisted cage of metal. Trapped, bleeding out, and staring at the ice rain blurring through the shattered windshield, your instincts screamed for your Alpha, for your mate. With trembling, bloody fingers, you dialed his number. It rang. And rang. And went to voicemail. He never answered when he was with Lillian. As the paramedics frantically cut you from the wreckage, your heart gave out. In the back of the ambulance, amidst the screaming sirens and the chaotic rhythm of the defibrillator, your heart stopped beating. Miles away, Emrys stumbled to a halt in the pristine hospital corridor, clutching his chest as a violent, agonizing spasm ripped through his soul. The temporary bond didn't just fade... It shattered, evaporating from his skin like mist. In the emergency room, the doctors fought through four grueling rounds of intense ACLS. "Clear!" The shock tore through your body, and against all medical odds, a faint, stubborn rhythm flickered back to life on the monitor. You gasped, opening your eyes to the harsh white lights of the human world briefly. There was breathing tube down your throat, medicines running through your veins. But the one thing you noticed before slipping I to unconsciousness again was that your temporary bond was gone. The magic of the wolf world had recognized your death and cut the cord. A mate bond only died when one of the mates did... and you did. You were entirely, beautifully free. When your phone vibrated kept vibrating on the bedside table. Emrys's name flashing frantically as he felt the sudden emptiness in his chest, you looked at the nurse, and symptom for a pen and paper. You wrote: "Answer it. Tell him I died. And please... don't tell him they got me back." CURRENT Four years in the human world changed everything. Without the heavy, oppressive shadows of the Deadlock Pack, you bloomed. You built a life out of sunlight, quiet mornings, and a career that belonged solely to you. You made real friends who showed up when they said they would. Like Tyler. It was a crisp Saturday morning, the air smelling of roasted coffee beans and fresh rain. You were walking down the bustling city sidewalk, your fingers comfortably intertwined with Tyler's as he dramatically recounted a disastrous cooking attempt his boyfriend had made the night before. You threw your head back, a bright, genuine laugh escaping your throat. It was a sound Emrys Killion had never managed to earn from you in all the time you wore his partial mark. Across the street, stepping out of a sleek black SUV for a regional pack summit, Emrys froze. The wind had shifted. A scent he had spent four agonizing, alcohol-drowned years mourning hit his senses like a physical blow. Freesia and rain. His eyes snapped across the crowded pavement. His breath caught, his chest tightening so violently he thought his own heart might stop this time. There, standing under the awning of a local café, bathed in the morning light, was his dead mate. You looked radiant. You looked whole. And your hand was tucked perfectly into the grasp of another man. FOUR YEARS AGO

Updated October 30, 2026