The Gamma He Thought Could Survive Anything Chapter 06
Theron’s POV
I was so angry I let out a bitter laugh.
“I did it for you!”
Ophelia tilted her head.
“I never asked you to. You were feeding your hero complex. I was just the excuse. Nothing to do with me.”
Something inside me finally snapped.
A sharp crack echoed through the room as my hand struck her face.
She clutched her cheek, staring at me in disbelief.
“Theron, are you insane? Hitting me over this?”
She lunged, claws out. But she was only an Omega.
I grabbed her wrist and threw her to the ground.
I turned to head back toward the mountain.
She completely snapped. She rushed me from behind and sank her teeth toward my neck.
“Theron! Who gave you the right to hit me?”
“No one’s ever laid a hand on me my entire life!”
I wasn’t ready, but Alpha reflexes kicked in.
Even so, her teeth grazed my skin. A few drops of blood rolled down my neck.
I grabbed her jaw, aura crashing down. With a light tap of my fingers, the force dislocated her jaw.
I looked at her with nothing but cold indifference.
“I thought you were just blunt. Turns out Lyra was right. You’re the calculating one.”
“Everyone does the work, you stay clean. No one plays the game better than you.”
Unable to close her mouth, Ophelia still tried to charge at me. My Beta, Leo, stepped in and stopped her.
I ordered Leo to escort Ophelia back to Graystone Pack.
My wolf snarled inside me.
Lyra, I’ll settle this debt.
If you’re gone–someone pays.
I shook my head, trying to drive the thought away.
But Ophelia’s accusation stuck.
She was right. I was the killer.
I’d decided Ophelia needed help more. That Lyra could survive. I’d chosen for her.
But why? What right did I have to take away her chance to survive?
And it wasn’t the first time.
I’d always done this.
was so cold that night. Lyra must hate me.
Terror swallowed me whole.
The werewolf rescue team searched for an entire day and night.
No Lyra. Just her pack–still at the summit.
So she’d already been too exhausted to carry it before we’d even started down.
What had I been doing? Why didn’t I notice? Why didn’t
I look back?
Why’d I call at two a.m.?
I knew she suffered from insomnia. Still made her climb, sleepless. Left her in the rain.
I forced down a few bites of a sandwich. My stomach heaved.
I set it aside and picked up Lyra’s camera.
The latest photo showed the Crimson Moonrise Mist in all its beauty. It looked almost unreal and dangerous.
I’d threatened her into this. Just for Ophelia.
I was a damn fool.
I kept scrolling. More landscapes.
Then I scrolled back to photos from six months earlier.
That was when I first started appearing in them.
In those photos, I was standing beneath a bright blue
sky with a carefree smile on my face.
What happened then?
Ophelia’s father had cut off her allowance. She’d sworn
to prove herself by making something of her career.
So I’d paid to help her open a studio. Lyra joined it too.
But her ideas never made the cut. Ophelia’s style,
always. Slowly, Lyra faded behind the scenes. Became her shadow.
Had she already given up on me back then?
Just then, my phone rang. It was Lyra’s mother.
She wasn’t well. So I scrambled for an excuse, then answered.
But her words hit like a prayer answered.
My eyes lit up.
“What? She’s at the clinic?”