The Breaking Point of Mate: Giving Up on My Alpha novel Chapter 81

Chapter 81

Third Person’s POV

He had just showered, and his pajamas were freshly changed.

There was no need to speculate about what had happened.

Melanie’s rational mind quickly filled in the blanks-

Camille probably didn’t trust her, so she had come over specifically to “check.”

He knew.

And he had reassured Camille with his body.

Melanie’s wolf snarled with uncontrollable fury–the primal rage of seeing something that belonged to her being claimed by another. It recoiled from Archer’s presence, driven by the instinct to drive away the ‘intruder‘ carrying another woman’s scent.

But Melanie couldn’t act on it. As much as she wanted to, pack law was absolute. No one could challenge–let alone expel–the Alpha.

Archer had already settled beside the bed, a book in his hands.

It seemed he truly intended to stay here tonight.

That was somewhat unexpected for Melanie.

…But, thinking it over, it made sense.

Moira’s “spies” were everywhere in this place. Staying here overnight was far safer than going straight to Camille’s room.

Melanie didn’t dwell on it any further.

Half an hour later, she stepped out of the bathroom.

Archer was still reading.

And that book… was the one Melanie had brought.

Her expression darkened.

Just as she was about to speak, he lifted his gaze to meet hers, as if sensing her mood.

“Do you mind?”

“A little,” Melanie answered honestly.

“I’ll ask next time,” he said.

Next time?

Melanie didn’t believe there would be a next time.

He had already lowered his eyes back to the page, offering a casual assessment

“Nice annotations.”

Melanie pretended not to hear him and returned to the bathroom, picking up the hair dryer

By the time she finished her skincare routine and climbed into bed, Archer was still reading.

She had no idea when he eventually fell asleep.

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Because she drifted off quickly.

When she woke the next morning, dawn was just breaking.

The other side of the bed was empty.

No lingering trace of patchouli remained in the room.

Archer must have left early.

Or perhaps he hadn’t slept here at all.

Melanie had already arranged with Elmer to return to the company and handle pending matters. After breakfast, she dragged her suitcase toward the door.

The moment she opened it, Trista’s hushed yet disgruntled voice drifted in from the hallway.

“Camille’s so mean. She promised to sleep with me, but she went back to her own room in the middle of the night.”

She was complaining to Omega Shannon.

In that instant, Melanie felt almost certain.

Archer hadn’t been with her last night. He had returned to Camille’s place after all.

Her grip tightened slightly on the suitcase handle before loosening again.

He couldn’t even last one night?

Trista was the first to notice her.

The little girl stood at the end of the hallway, dragging the hem of a bathrobe far too large for her. Her round eyes widened slightly at the sight of the silver–gray suitcase.

“Mommy?”

The word carried the unmistakable uncertainty and hesitance of a small child.

Melanie froze for a moment, as if pulled back from some distant thought. She reached out and gently closed the door behind her, shutting away the lingering dampness and unfamiliar scent before lowering her gaze to her daughter.

“Mhm.”

Her voice was soft but steady.

“Mommy has work to finish. Go back inside for now.” She crouched down, smoothing the damp strands of hair clinging to Trista’s forehead. “You and Daddy stay here and have fun.”

Trista nodded almost immediately, her small head bobbing quickly as it acknowledging an approved instruction

“Okay! Got it, Mom.”

The title made Melanie’s heart tighten ever so slightly, but she showed no sign of it. She simply stood and pulled her suitcase toward the stairs.

The sound of the wheels rolling across the floor echoed sharply through the overly quiet hallway.

She had barely reached the first floor when she ran straight into Archer.

He was standing there with Camille.

The sweet orange scent of his pheromones was amplified tenfold in the humid air of the hot springs resort, an unapologetic

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declaration layered deliberately over his sharp patchouli.

Melanie didn’t pause.

Archer’s gaze flicked briefly to the suitcase at her side before rising to meet her eyes, his voice flat, almost cold.

“Leaving?”

“Mm.”

Her reply was equally brief.

“Did you call a cab?”

“I did.”

He asked nothing further, made no attempt to stop her. He simply nodded.

“Alright.”

No unnecessary pleasantries. No shift in emotion.

Melanie pulled her suitcase past him, brushing through the narrow space between them.

In that moment, she distinctly felt herself briefly enveloped by two scents–patchouli and sweet orange intertwined, leaving no space for her own apple fragrance.

She didn’t look back.

She got into the car, closed the door, and the engine started.

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