MATED TO THE SECRET ALPHA
Chapter 120: Deja vu

Chapter 120: Deja vu

Knock!

"Zeta Marcus, are you in?"

Marcus’s eyes snapped open. He’d taken his medication not long ago and was about to fall asleep for the side effects of the medicine to wear off.

Marcus had been severely injured by the monsters he’d stolen from, a gruesome gash ran deep on his back. He couldn’t allow healer Dira treat him because of the painting, or rather, red drawing on his skin.

He had an intimidating Dark Snow Pack’s insignia, a red feral wolf on his back. If seen by others, his identity would be revealed.

He sat up. That voice was too familiar for him to not know who that was.

She was awake? His heart raced with excitement. Snatching a shirt from the handle of the wooden chair, he threw it on and strode with large steps towards the door.

Unlike Ryder, who was a servant and shared a room with other omegas, Marcus was a Zeta, and by extension, shared quarters with other Zetas. There were four cabins in the Zeta quarters, so each of the four Zetas had their own houses.

Opening the door, he came face to face with Mirian, the she-wolf he’d risked his life for.

"Thank you for saving me, Zeta Marcus," Mirian gave him a deep bow, but Marcus didn’t reply.

He was happy, too happy to see her alive.

"Please, come in," he stepped aside.

It was night and the weather was growing colder.

Mirian hesitated for a moment before she stepped in with a basket covered with a cloth. Entering the place, Mirian glanced around.

The place was nice and simple, giving one a comfortable vibe.

"I’m glad to see you’re awake," Marcus said, gesturing to the wooden chair, "Please sit."

However, Mirian shook her head, "Oh no, it’s late. I should have seen you earlier, but I heard you were at the boundaries." She set down the basket, "I brought you something. I made it myself to thank you for saving me."

But Marcus didn’t reply. When she glanced up, she saw him staring at her

Marcus’s gaze was on the adornment on her hair – the feathers and bone.

He reached out, his fingers brushing against the locks that held the adornment in place. Mirian’s eyes flickered up to his, wary as she tried to move away.

"Where did you get this?" he asked, his voice low and husky, his eyes fixed on the feathers and bone.

Mirian’s gaze dropped. Telling him about its origin might get her in trouble, at the same time, he was her savior and he was curious.

She convinced herself before she forced a smile, "One of the female friends gave it to me, in the human village." Zeta Detroit’s face flashed in her mind and her eyes slowly dimmed. She missed him more than she cared to admit.

"A female friend?" Marcus repeated, his fingers brushing against the ornaments. He knew she was lying.

Some members of the Dark Snow Pack had these in their hairs, but there was a slight difference. It could be the style of carving, the owner’s scent on it, or the way it was knotted into the hair.

From the style of this carving, he knew who it belonged to — Zeta Detroit.

"Yes, a female friend," Mirian repeated, her voice a little too bright, a little too forced.

Marcus’s gaze flicked up to hers, his eyes boring into hers as if searching for the truth. For a moment, they just stared at each other, the air thick with tension. Then, Marcus’s face relaxed into a neutral mask, and he dropped his hand, his eyes never leaving Mirian’s face.

"Do you know what it means for someone to give you this?" he said. "It means you’ve been touched, claimed... mated."

Mirian already knew. That bully, Ryder didn’t waste a moment to make her feel horrible and relished in the moment.

She’d surely return the favor, she thought.

Seeing she didn’t look surprised, Marcus lifted a brow. "You already knew?"

She stayed silent, and that irked him.

"You know he belonged to the Dark Snow Pack, don’t you?" He pressed, his heart twisting with agony. How could the woman he’d loved for two years, watched from the shadows, be claimed by Detroit of all people?

Detroit was a bull.

Challenging him to a fight, just to take Mirian from him was not why Marcus felt the burn of anger and jealousy in his chest. It was because Detroit was stubborn and unrelenting.

Marcus was powerful, more powerful than Detroit could ever be, but that guy had the brute force and a reckless, unyielding spirit that made him an annoying opponent.

No matter how many times you defeated him, he would return for another fight like a relentless storm, wearing you down with his sheer determination.

Marcus’s lips curled into a wry smile as he thought about the numerous times he had clashed with Detroit. The man was a force of nature, impossible to intimidate or deter. And yet, despite his frustration with Detroit’s refusal to back down, Marcus couldn’t help but feel a twisted sense of admiration for his opponent’s unwavering spirit.

But that admiration wouldn’t stop him from doing what needed to be done. Mirian was his. He saw her first. He loved her first. And would claim her.

With that, he reached out, tearing the adornments, the symbol of Detroit’s claim on Mirian, from her hair.

The sound of the adornments ripping free was like a declaration of war, a challenge to Detroit’s claim on the woman Marcus loved.

Mirian’s eyes widened in shock as Marcus’s fingers brushed against her face, sending shivers down her spine.

"W– what are you doing?!" she cried out, trying to back away, to step back, but Marcus’s hand shot out, wrapping around her waist as he yanked her forward and slammed his lips on hers.

Mirian’s eyes widened as she struggled against him, trying to break free, but she couldn’t. He held her tight like some treasured possession.

Mirian stopped struggling as Deja vu hit her.

There was something awfully familiar about the way Marcus held her, the way his fingers wrapped around her waist, the way his chest pressed against hers. It was a feeling she couldn’t quite place, but it sent a shiver down her spine.

Suddenly, images began to flash through her mind - fragmented memories she couldn’t quite remember. Marcus, or someone who was built just like him, had held her close...

Mirian’s eyes widened as the foggy, disconnected memories came flooding back, and she felt a strange sense of longing, of belonging, in Marcus’s arms.

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