#Chapter 43 – A New Wall

Olivia’s POV

It feels odd returning to Herold’s pack lands. It’s still dark so the streets are bare and the shops are closed, but it changes nothing. I press my cheek against the window of Alpha Herold’s sports car and feel the engine purr at we creep through the empty streets of my old home.

Nothing seems to have changed, but in the same respect, everything has changed.

“Where are you going?” I breathe, my warm breath on the window. Herold has pulled off the main road, but not the one that leads to his packhouse. “I thought we were going to your house, Alpha Herold. Where are you going?”

He leans back in his seat, his eyes catching mine in the reflection of the window glass. “You seem familiar with the roads in my pack, Queen Luna.”

I shift uncomfortably, realizing the mistake I’ve let slip. “I remember seeing the pack house when Gabriel and I came by the hospital to see Mara. That’s all I really know about your pack, Alpha Herold. Let’s keep it that way, too, and get over there soon.”

“Of course,” he hums. “Wouldn’t want your King Alpha husband upset with me.”

“Too late for that.”

We sit in silence for a long, begrudged moment. Finally, he steers us toward the packhouse and I jump out before he even has the car in park. There is an odd feeling of gloom when I look at this familiar place. I tell myself I’m too angry to be upset, but all I feel when I cross through the front door is a looming sense of doom.

I picture the day I came home, knowing I was pregnant and thinking it would give me the sweet, caring mate I thought I married. Instead, he threw divorce papers at me, belittled my truth into something false, something that made him think I had betrayed him, and I stammer to keep those emotions hidden to myself.

I lean against the wall nearby, everything still the same as when I left but that wretched woman’s scent has finally lifted off the furniture. Alpha Herold waits for me to follow him up the stairs but I feel stuck in a pathetic memory, thinking over the great times I had here, and the horrible memories that over bare those flashbacks.

“Hey,” Herold hums, his voice soft and subtle. “Are you alright?”

I only nod, my throat dry. “I’m fine. Where are we going?”

“I think the last time I saw the bottle was in my bedroom. Care to help me search?”

I grumble but follow his lead, walking down the old hallway that led to our separate rooms when our mating bond began to be strained. I stop at the spot my door used to be, now replaced by a solid chunk of drywall that doesn’t even match the color of the rest of the hallway.

I press my palm on the spot, my body aching all over.

“I couldn’t bare to look at Olivia’s room anymore,” Alpha Herold says in a meek murmur. “I asked the room to be blocked off completely, so I would be more comfortable over everything that happened when I walked by it but—I don’t know—it still hurts.”

I straighten up, trying to be strong but it’s so damn hard. “Just get to your room, already,” I groan. “We’re not here for this.”

He agrees and we enter his room nearby, both of us breaking up to look through his dresser and his closet, Herold even taking it as far as to tear his bed apart. While he is busy searching, I catch a glimpse of a shoebox at the base of his closet. I check to see that Alpha Herold is still preoccupied in the search before lifting the worn lid off of this misplaced box.

The inside of the small box is filled with photos that I hadn’t even known were taken, let alone printed out and stored in here. I recognize my old face in a lot of them. In Herold’s handwriting, he has marked the dates a few brief descriptions on the back of the photos as a way to bring back the memories splayed out in each snapshot.

“Summer wedding,” I breathe, reading his messy, cursive penmanship. “A honeymoon with my honey.” I turn over the picture, seeing my old face lit up with a massive grin, Herold seemingly behind the camera as we explore a little thrift shop where we went shopping over our honeymoon.”

I cover my mouth with my wrist, trying to hide the gasp in shock as I pick up another photo.

“My darling wife and her silly brother,” I read the cursive writing. In the photo, Reese and I are covering in icing from a birthday or anniversary celebration, I cannot recall, but it doesn’t matter. Reese is healthy and so full of life, a starkly different reality from now as I picture his pale, near lifeless appearance in the hospital. “Moon goddess, I don’t understand…”

“I can assure you the vial isn’t in there,” Herold says, leaning against the doorway into the closet where I have fallen to my knees. “That is one of my favorite pictures of my mate and her brother.”

I set the picture back into the box full of many. “She’s not your mate anymore. She’s dead. You should just throw these all away.”

He shakes his head, watching me take a wobbly stance. “I know that, but I can’t throw away any of those pictures. I have so many up still around the house. I can’t get rid of any of them. It reminds me of the good times.”

“There is no such thing as good times after you let her die,” I bite.

I’m shaking now, and he must see that. He takes a cautious step forward, his hands out as he tries to bring me closer, needing to hold me but instead refraining, his hands hesitant around my waist. I push away from letting him embrace me. He doesn’t deserve to and on some levels, I feel like he understands that.

“I hate you,” I growl, a blunt reminder to us both.

He nods, his eyes flittered with tears. “I know that. You have every right to hate me.”

“Let’s just get this bottle and you can take me back home.”

His eyes soften, his body tired and weary, like mine. “How about I keep looking and you go downstairs and get something to eat. We’ve been awake for a long time and something tells me you skipped dinner while looking after my brother.”

I hesitate, my mind determined to finish this search and go home but he is right. My stomach growls in response and I give in, brushing past him as I leave the closet and going downstairs to eat.

It’s hard to ignore the photos on the walls and set out on the tables and furniture throughout the house. I stare at my face like an outsider, like a damn stranger, seeing photos of Herold and I displayed everywhere within eyesight. Pictures of our wedding, of us in the park, of the time before he let that witch come between us.

I remind myself that he allowed her to snake her way in. I can’t release the hateful blame I have for Alpha Herold. I settle into the dining room, exhausted both mentally and physically.

Eating a sandwich alone in the dark, this is more reflective of the end of our matehood.

The night is a blur in my mind. I don’t recall much after eating dinner and trying to help Herold find the vial I question even existed at this rate. My body is overwhelmed with warmth with I feel his hand shake at my shoulder, his scent overwhelming my nostrils while I tuck myself further into this soft, warm bed.

“Wake up,” Alpha Herold hums softly. “It’s the morning, Queen Luna.”

My eyes fly awake like a gunshot has gone off. “Wh—what?!”