Seven Years of Lies

Alpha Johnson Reaper, my fiancé, had just asked me to marry him. But when we were on the verge of kissing, a brutal crash shattered the moment.

The impact came out of nowhere. Our bodies slammed against the car’s interior as it spun out of control, tires screeching like a cry for help.

My vision blurred as my head struck something hard. Pain shot through my skull, followed by a warm trickle down my forehead. Dazed, I blinked—only to see crimson staining my trembling hands.

My blood….

Panic surged in my chest, mixing with confusion and fear, as the world around me spun into chaos.

“L-Lauv!” Johnson’s voice called out. It was strained, distant, muffled behind the ringing in my ears.

He held me tightly, arms wrapped around me with protective strength. Even in chaos, his instinct was to shield me. But then came the one final, thunderous crash.

We slammed into something solid. The impact stole my breath, and through the shattered window, I saw the concrete bridge barricade. Before I could process it, the road vanished beneath us.

We fell into the river below, water roaring in my ears just before the car struck the surface with a deafening splash— until I just slipped from consciousness.

When I woke, I was on a stretcher. Nurses rushed me through a hallway that flickered in and out of focus.

My body ached, soaked to the bone as water dripped from me, making the floor slick while they rushed me down the hall. Then I convulsed violently, water bubbling from my nose and mouth before darkness swallowed me.

When I woke up, my first thought was that I shouldn't have. I survived the crash—but it didn’t feel like it after I heard the doctor’s news.

"Alpha Johnson Reaper didn’t make it. I offer you my deepest condolences."

I died inside the moment the doctor spoke, my heart stopped. For a second, I was numb. But when the words finally registered, I burst into tears and stormed out of the room, ignoring the pain wracking my battered body.

I was covered in bruises and cuts, but nothing compared to the agony in my chest. My heart felt torn apart, bleeding in a way no time nor no memory loss could ever heal.

“W-Where is he?!” I shouted, my voice raw from screaming during the crash.

Every creature in the hospital lobby turned to stare, whispering behind their hands. I knew what they were thinking—that I’d lost my mind. But I didn’t care.

“Where is Johnson—” I began, but the words were ripped from my mouth as a palm struck my face, hard enough to snap my head to the side.

My vision blurred. I stumbled, struggling to stay upright—until a second slap knocked me to the floor.

"You peasant!" a woman screamed, grabbing a fistful of my hair.

I gasped in pain and was ready to fight back, but I saw her face.

Imelda Reaper. Johnson’s mother.

"You killed my son!" she shrieked, striking me again, splitting my lip. "You're not just a gold digger—you’re a murderer!"

She dragged me by my hair across the floor, yanking so hard strands tore free as I screamed and begged her to stop. But she didn’t listen.

"This woman killed my son!" she howled at the crowd. "She seduced and murdered him!"

"That's not true!" I screamed, hands scrambling against the blood-slick floor—blood that was mine. "I-I loved him! What happened was an accident. Neither of us—"

"Shut up!" Imelda snarled, kicking me hard in the ribs.

I curled up, coughing blood. It painted the floor and coated my skin, but I didn’t care. At that moment, I wished I had died too.

Grabbing a vase from the nurse's station, my eyes widened when Imedla smashed it. Glass exploded across the floor, which she snatched. I tried to crawl back, but my scream pierced the hall when she slashed it across my cheek.

Fire tore through my skin. Blood poured instantly, blinding one eye. I could taste it—hot and metallic, coating my teeth.

Gasps erupted from the crowd, but no one moved until the guards finally pulled her off me.

"Don’t you dare show your face again!" she screamed, her hands drenched in my blood. "Or I’ll slaughter you myself!"

Tears stung the open wound on my cheek as I sobbed, body shaking in agony. I vomited on the floor out of pain and crawled, desperate to escape.

The sun outside was scorching, but I barely noticed. I just needed to get away—as if I were a criminal fleeing a crime.

But days later, I realized I had become one.

Imelda had sued me for Johnson’s murder—even though it was clearly an accident.

There was no evidence because I hadn’t done it. But with her power and influence, the truth didn’t matter. She twisted the story effortlessly.

I’ve been hiding ever since. Almost a week now.

And today… today is the first time I’ll go back out because it was Johnson’s funeral.

From a distance, I watched in silence, lowering my veil—not just to hide my identity, but to conceal the shame clinging to me like a second skin.

A jagged scar cut across my right cheek, a grotesque reminder of Imelda’s wrath. I could barely stand to look at myself anymore.

Biting my lip, I fought back tears as Johnson’s casket was lowered into the twelve-foot grave. Hidden behind a tree, I listened to the pack’s mourning.

His father held Imelda steady, but even he was breaking. His shoulders trembled as he let himself grieve.

Hot tears streamed down my face. I bit my busted lip to stifle my sobs, tasting blood as the wound split again.

I wished this was a nightmare. But I wasn’t numb. I felt every shard of this reality.

Alpha Johnson Reaper was really gone.