MATED TO THE SECRET ALPHA
Chapter 147: Remorse

Chapter 147: Remorse

A clear, possessive mark from another man.

Detroit’s eyes flashed with intense anger, his jaw clenched in restraint. He felt a surge of possessiveness, a primal urge to claim Mirian as his own, to erase the mark and replace it with his own.

His hand reached out, fingers coming under her chin and lifting her jaw up.

"Who?" he growled, his chest vibrating with the force of it. "Who marked you?"

Mirian’s eyes widened, her face paling as she realized what Detroit had seen. She took a step back, her hands rising in a placating gesture. "D– Detroit, please... it’s not what you think," she said, her voice trembling.

But Detroit’s anger wasn’t going to be placated so easily. He took a step closer, his eyes blazing with suppressed fury. "Tell me," he demanded, his voice cold and deadly.

"I– I," her eyes welled up with tears, unwilling to betray Marcus, thinking Detroit would kill him. At the same time, the anger rolling off Detroit was suffocating her, making it hard to breathe.

She knew Detroit’s temper, knew he was capable of causing violence in the pack, and it would put him in trouble. And worse, might start a war between the Dark Snow Pack and her pack.

Mirian didn’t want that. She didn’t want her people falling under the Dark Snow Pack’s claws.

"Mirian..." Detroit glared, impatiently waiting for her to give the person’s name.

And that was a mistake, because Mirian flinched so badly that she recoiled in fear, causing her eyes to sting.

Sob. Sob.

She wiped her face with the back of her hand. But that only seemed to intensify the tears rolling down her cheeks.

Detroit froze, his anger evaporating in a flash.

’W– why is she crying?’ Detroit’s eyes widened in alarm as Mirian’s tears continued to flow, her face crumpling in distress.

He felt a surge of panic, unsure of how to react. He’d never been good with emotions, never known how to handle a woman’s tears.

His instinct was to retreat, to escape the uncomfortable situation, but something about Mirian’s vulnerability kept him rooted to the spot. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, feeling helpless and out of his depth.

"Mi– Mirian... ah, stop crying," he said, his voice rough with uncertainty. But the words only seemed to make her cry harder. She was wailing now, her voice raw with emotion.

Detroit’s fist clenched and unclenched. The rim of his eyes reddening, his heartbeat spiking with anxiety and guilt. What was he supposed to do?

"I’m... I’m sorry. Please don’t cry." He reached out a trembling hand. But before he could touch her, she rushed forward and hugged him. Her petite frame – compared to his big build – shook with each sob, her arms wrapping tightly around his waist.

"I’m sorry, Detroit. Waah!"

For a moment, he just stood there, frozen in uncertainty, before his body seemed to relax into the touch. His trembling hand hovered in mid-air before hesitantly coming to rest on her back, his large palm attempting to soothe her shaking form.

Holding her close as he awkwardly tried to comfort her. "I– it’s okay," his soft and gentle, "I’m not mad at you," he continued. "I know it’s not your fault. You were seduced."

Mirian didn’t reply. Instead, she cried harder.

Detroit panicked, wondering if he’d said something wrong. To not aggravate her further, he stopped speaking and just stood there with Mirian in his embrace.

...

After what seemed like an eternity, Mirian finally stopped crying, hiccuping instead, her breaths coming in ragged gasps as she slowly regained control of herself.

"Come, come sit down," Detroit held her shoulders, slowly walking her to the chair. He sat her down and just stood there, unsure of what to do next.

Mirian too didn’t speak. Her swollen eyes remained fixed on her fingers which were placed on her thigh.

After ransacking his brain for a while, he decided to sit beside her. The minute he did, Mirian leaned into him, her head on his arm – she wasn’t tall enough for his shoulder.

Detroit picked her up instead and sat her on his lap. She buried her face in his chest. Mirian felt like she was being enveloped by him, surrounded by his warmth and scent.

"I’m sorry," she whispered, her voice muffled by his chest.

"It’s okay.

She lifted her face, staring at his face. "I didn’t mean to hurt you."

"I know."

"I truly didn’t want to hurt you."

He lowered his head and planted a kiss on her lips, then pulled back. "I know."

She clung to his cloak. She had something to say but didn’t know how to bring it forward. After a while, she stopped resisting. "C– can you not hurt him?"

Detroit stared at her, "Are you so worried about him? Are you not scared that he’d hurt me instead?"

Mirian’s eyes dropped, her voice barely above a whisper. "He wouldn’t hurt you intentionally. And I’m scared... I’m scared of what might happen to him if you... if you react badly."

Detroit’s gaze narrowed, his eyes searching hers. "You care about him, don’t you?" he asked, his voice low and even.

Mirian’s face twisted in anguish, her eyes welling up with tears. "I care about you too. I don’t want both of you to get hurt. I...I...You’re stronger than him. That’s why I–"

"I won’t hurt him if he rejects you. Otherwise, we’ll do it the Dark Snow way."

Mirian’s eyes widened. She didn’t know what the Dark Snow way was, but she could feel it was not good. She bit her lip hard and lowered her head even more. At this point, she didn’t want to provoke Detroit more by blatantly taking Marcus’s side.

Detroit brushed her hair away from her neck, his calloused fingers circling the mark on her neck. "I thought you weren’t ready the last time, that was why I didn’t leave my mark on you..." His implication was clear. He was still very angry. And he wouldn’t rest until he found that person.

Meanwhile, the person responsible was supervising the workers at the eastern border, unaware of the trouble awaiting him.