Mated To The Crippled Alpha-Chapter 375: Use Me

Nolan and Jake both died in accidents.

I wasn’t there when it happened. I never saw the moment their lives ended. All I knew were the rumors that spread through the territory afterward, carried from pack to pack like a bitter wind.

Aside from the sadness that two lives ended too early... and the burning hatred for the one responsible... I didn’t feel much else.

At least, that’s what I told myself.

The only thing that truly happened that night was that I couldn’t sleep. I lay awake for hours, staring at the ceiling while the darkness pressed around me. Every sound felt too loud. Every shadow felt too heavy. 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

I kept telling myself it didn’t matter.

I thought I had already cut away that part of my life. I believed I had long severed the bond of being the Morrigans family’s fourth daughter. The pack had rejected me long ago, and I had convinced myself I no longer belonged to them.

But the moment Greg’s warm blood splattered across my hands and soaked into my clothes...

I understood something I had tried to deny for years.

Blood ties were stubborn things.

Even when trust shattered, even when hearts broke, even when bodies were torn apart by hatred and betrayal... those bonds never truly disappeared.

Malcom and Vivian stumbled toward us, their movements unsteady like people walking through a nightmare.

Vivian’s panic made her clumsy. Her foot caught on the edge of the marble floor and she fell hard, her knees hitting the ground with a painful thud.

"Greg!" she cried out, her voice cracking.

Ilora tried to stand too, but her body was too weak to obey her. Her arms trembled as she pushed against the floor. In the end she could only crawl slowly toward him, inch by inch, dragging herself forward like every movement cost her strength.

Whitney stood a few steps away.

She had backed up without realizing it, her whole body stiff like someone frozen in place. Tears slid silently down her face.

Once again, someone she loved was bleeding out right in front of her.

Out of everyone here, she had to be the one hurting the most.

My vision filled with red.

So much red that the world around me blurred.

Before I even had time to think, my body had already moved. I crouched down beside Greg and pressed both hands tightly against his wound.

Blood soaked through my fingers immediately.

"Hold on," I muttered under my breath, though I wasn’t even sure if he could hear me.

The cut was too deep.

Every second, more blood poured out, warm and slippery against my skin.

It covered my palms, ran down my wrists, and stained the floor beneath us.

"Coco."

Greg’s weak voice reached my ears.

His hand slowly lifted and brushed against my cheek.

His touch was shaky, barely strong enough to reach me.

"It’s been a long time... since I called you that."

The nickname hit me harder than I expected.

My chest tightened painfully.

"I—I’m sorry..." he whispered.

A soft laugh escaped him, weak and bitter.

"So it turns out... saying sorry isn’t as hard as I thought."

I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced my voice to stay cold.

"I won’t accept your apology," I told him quietly. "Don’t think that dying will make everything disappear."

Greg coughed weakly, blood staining the corner of his lips.

"Heh... you’re still the same," he murmured. "Still so kind."

His breathing was uneven now.

"How could I ever believe you joined the Blackwells just to hurt us?" he continued softly. "Actually... under the plum tree in the yard... I buried a jar of Ruby Toast."

His voice faded for a moment before he continued.

"I planned to open it on your wedding night."

My hands trembled slightly against his wound.

"But fate..." he whispered. "Fate had other plans."

His eyes were cloudy now, filled with regret.

"That night, I thought you ran away out of anger. I thought you were just being stubborn."

His lips curved into a painful smile.

"I never imagined things would end like this."

His fingers tightened weakly against my sleeve.

"Coco... ending up like this... it’s what I deserve."

Then his gaze slowly shifted past me.

"Dad... Mom..." he whispered. "I’m sorry I couldn’t fulfill my duty as your son... to take care of you until the end."

Vivian collapsed beside him, tears streaming down her face uncontrollably.

"No!" she cried, shaking her head frantically. "Don’t say things like that! Don’t talk like you’re dying! You’ll be fine!"

Malcom stood behind her.

He had always been the quieter one, the more controlled one. But now tears ran down his face as well, carving silent tracks through the grief in his eyes.

Whitney finally snapped out of her shock.

But instead of rushing toward Greg...

She ran in the opposite direction.

Straight toward Dominic.

She dropped to her knees in front of him so quickly the sound echoed through the hall. Grabbing the hem of Dominic’s coat, she held onto it desperately.

"Mr. Blackwell!" she cried. "I’m a Morrigans. Let me pay for everything the Morrigans have done. Please... save my brother!"

Her voice trembled as tears rolled down her sharp chin one after another.

"He doesn’t know anything," she continued. "He’s innocent! You can punish me instead. Do whatever you want to me. Torture me if you must... but please, save him!"

But there was no Vito here.

And no one stepped forward to comfort her.

Dominic slowly bent down and lifted Whitney’s chin with two fingers.

His expression was calm, almost bored.

"Camilla," he said quietly, "I already showed you mercy by letting you live."

Whitney pushed his hand away and lowered her head again.

Her forehead slammed against the floor.

"Mr. Blackwell," she pleaded desperately. "Everything the Morrigans did... every mistake... it’s all our fault!"

Her voice broke.

"Nolan and Jake are already dead. Greg is the last Morrigans left."

She bowed again, hitting her head harder against the ground.

"I’m begging you... please spare him. Give the Morrigans one last chance."

Another bow.

"I’ll trade my life for his."

Another.

"Please..."

Her forehead struck the marble again and again until blood began to appear on her skin.

The sight made my chest ache.

I wanted to stop her.

But I couldn’t move.

Both my hands were still pressed against Greg’s wound, trying desperately to keep the blood inside his body.

And I knew something the others didn’t.

I had seen the wound clearly.

Axes were brutal weapons.

They were meant for heavy blows, meant to split and tear.

Unlike a dagger that could end a life with one precise strike...

An axe left destruction behind.