Mark of Sin: Bound to the Cruel Alpha

"I do hate it," Magnus said quietly.

He struck a match and lit a fresh cigarette, but he didn’t take a drag. He simply held it between his fingers, letting the cherry ember burn down on its own. A thick, cloying smoke curled off the tip, spreading a bright, sweet aroma through the room, sinking into the velvet curtains and heavy leather upholstery.

Sayan had watched his Alpha perform this bizarre ritual dozens of times, and every single time, it baffled him. Why buy cigarettes you hated? Why fill your lungs with a scent that gave even bystanders a headache?

"Where do you even buy those anyway?" Sayan grunted, rubbing his bleary eyes. "I tried to track down a pack out of curiosity a while back, but nobody carries that junk."

Sayan cast a sleepy glance at his friend. Magnus sat in dark silence, his stormy gray eyes tracking the pale ribbons of smoke as they drifted toward the high ceiling. For a long moment, he didn’t answer, as if weighing whether Sayan deserved a response at all.

"They’re custom-made and shipped internationally," Magnus said finally, his tone flat, completely devoid of inflection. "A craftsman made the blend for me when I flew out to—"

"Oh! Back when you shot Nyland Junior’s legs with silver bullets?" Sayan cut in, letting out a dark chuckle while shaking his head.

"Damn, what a shitshow that trip was. Half the territories banned you from crossing their borders after what you did to those bastards... And the prick actually survived! Honestly, I didn’t think the surgeons could scrape that bloody heap back together. Word on the street is he’s actually standing up again with his new cybernetic braces.

A little bird told me they fused a bio-plate into his spine to route signals directly to his limbs. He won’t be running marathons, but he’ll be walking like a human soon enough. Still can’t speak a word, though. Maybe next they’ll fit his dick with a prosthesis—technology’s doing wonders these days, you know? The elders only care if he’s functional enough to knock up his fated mate anyway. It’s not like their labs have the hormone tech left to cook up proper therapy anymore."

"I don’t give a damn," Magnus cut him off coldly, not a trace of interest in his voice. "Let him walk. For now."

Sayan let out a heavy sigh and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he studied his friend’s shadowed face. "What did Pharean say?"

"He returned the letter unread."

Sayan swore under his breath, springing to his feet so abruptly the sofa frame groaned under his weight. He paced toward the doorway, stopping at the frame and gripping the wood tightly.

"Magnus, I know that wound is never going to heal. But you have to keep living, man. How many years has it been? Five! The foundation you took over has already achieved staggering success—three families now have healthy pups born from non-fated pairs! You need a life too. A woman, a child..."

"Sayan," Magnus’s voice dropped an octave—quieter, but laced with a lethal, warning edge. "I don’t need anyone. Go to sleep."

"You’re killing yourself! Why can’t you see that?!" Sayan snapped, his composure breaking as he slammed his palm against the doorframe. "This isn’t a life! You could—"

"I could have had a child with her," Magnus interrupted. His voice dropped to a low whisper, but it carried a raw, destructive gravity that instantly silenced Sayan.

"I could have gone to sleep and woken up beside her. I don’t want that with anyone else. It was never about just having a family or fathering pups, Sayan—it’s about who you want to build that life with. If I just wanted hollow company, I would have gotten a dog."

Sayan froze, gazing at the Alpha as a tight knot twisted in his chest. He was watching Magnus slowly erode from within—watching the remaining sparks of life drain from his eyes day by day, leaving only a hollow shell.

"I was just trying to help..." Sayan muttered, casting his gaze downward. "And for the record, you did get a dog—an attack-trained Doberman! I suggested a sweet little pup. A gentle companion! But your ’Caramel’ is a straight-up killing machine." He paused, his voice softening. "Do you... miss her that much?"

"To miss someone implies you’re holding onto the hope that they’ll come back to you," Magnus took a slow drag from his cigarette, exhaling a thin, steady stream of sweet-scented smoke.

"But you see... there is no path back from where she is. If there were, I would trade everything I own to forge it. I’d tear the world apart to bring her back. But the cruel irony is..." Magnus gestured vaguely toward the empty room, "...that currency doesn’t mean a damn thing on the other side. There’s no ransom to pay. No backdoor to breach.

I don’t just miss her, Sayan—I simply ceased to exist the day she left. I lost my mind the moment she died in my arms, and ever since, I’ve just been sitting in the waiting room, counting down until it’s my turn to die. So don’t talk to me about wives and children. I am incapable of loving anyone else. I can’t even stomach the thought of another woman near me... My mind is consumed by her. I marked her as mine. It’s eternal—and you know it."

A heavy, suffocating silence settled over the room. Sayan stood paralyzed; words were useless against a grief so absolute. Nothing could rewrite the past.

"You two barely had any time together..." Sayan murmured quietly, his voice laced with tragic disbelief. "Why did you mark her so fast? Why..." He trailed off. "Was that brief time really enough?"

"It was enough," Magnus replied softly. In those three words lay five years of agony, of absolute finality—the quiet acknowledgment that his real life had ended the exact moment her breathing stopped.

"Fuck..." Sayan dragged a hand down his face, rubbing his tired eyes. "Magnus... at least give Hugo a call. The old man loves you like a son. You nearly tore him apart back then... yet he’s still reaching out, looking for a way to fix things. Besides, your mother’s death anniversary is coming up. He managed to secure official clearance for both of you to visit her memorial down in the Lower District."

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