SEVEN

DAISY’S POV

“You shouldn’t check what isn’t yours,” Aaron said, slipping the phone into his pocket.

Disgust crawled up my throat. “Why? Are we not married? Why can’t I check your phone?”

He laughed it off. “I don’t mean that, Daisy. But tomorrow is our anniversary, and I’m planning something big. What if you saw it?”

Something big. I almost laughed. Like cheating on me. Like three friends in a group chat, asking whether I’d found out.

“I’ll bring you a new plate and clean this up,” he said, scooping up the tray. “This one’s ruined.”

When the door closed, my appetite was gone, replaced by something colder. Ilya had asked if I’d found out. Tonight, I would.

I turned off the light and slid beneath the blanket. When Aaron returned, I kept my eyes shut.

“Are you asleep, Daisy?”

I didn’t answer.

He sighed. His lips pressed against mine, and my throat nearly convulsed.

“Goodnight, my love.”

He didn’t come to bed for another hour. At midnight, the mattress dipped, and he pulled me against his chest.

“I love you, Daisy.”

Those words used to be my favorite part of the night. Sometimes I’d still be awake, and I would smile and snuggle closer. Tonight, they sat in my chest like broken glass. I wanted to scream that I knew.

I waited until his snores filled the room, then slid out from under his arm, holding my breath with every inch. His phone sat on the nightstand, exactly where he left it every night.

In the bathroom, I locked the door and typed my birthday. It opened instantly.

The group chat was gone. Not deleted, just empty, as though it had never existed. His other chats were spotless. Business meetings. Pack appointments. A private lodge booked for the anniversary. Gifts he’d saved for me.

A perfect husband.

Too perfect.

I was about to give up when I noticed a chat pinned outside the app. Face ID. Three failed tries, then a passcode box. My birthday. His. Ilya’s, Mia’s, Selene’s.

Nothing.

His parents had died before I met him. His only sibling, Tiara, had died in the Lycan and wolf war. Every year, we raised a glass to her, and he went quiet for hours. The first year after our wedding, he had sat on the edge of our bed in the dark with his shoulders shaking, and I’d held him until morning.

I typed in her birthday.

It opened.

Why her? The thought flickered. Why would he lock this behind his sister?

Then the screen filled, and I forgot the question.

It wasn’t a chat. It was a gallery. Hundreds of pictures.

I opened the first one, and the phone nearly slipped from my hand.

Aaron. My Aaron, the alpha who never let anyone see him lose control, was bent over a hotel bed with his wrists tied behind him. A woman in black leather stood behind him, gripping his hips, and his face was turned to the camera, his mouth open, his eyes glassy with pleasure.

I swiped.

A different woman. A collar around his neck. Aaron on his knees with his mouth between her thighs, her fingers knotted in his hair.

Swipe. A strap pushed deep into his mouth, tears on his cheeks, a hand holding the back of his head.

Swipe. A man this time, pinning him to the sheets, one hand gripping his jaw while Aaron stared up at him, slack and hungry, in a way I had never seen in our bed.

Swipe. Swipe. Different rooms. Different faces. Different toys laid out on hotel sheets. Not my friends. Not one mistake. A collection.

My stomach turned over.

In every frame, smiling for the camera, was my husband.

The man who kissed my forehead every morning. The man who left notes on my mirror.

The phone slipped, and I caught it before it hit the tiles. I made it to the toilet just in time, retching until tears ran down my face. Nothing came up but air.

A hundred and forty-three pictures. The counter at the bottom of the screen glowed.

How long? Before the wedding? After? Every night he said he was too tired?

And every night, he had come home. Washed up. Climbed into our bed and kissed me. Had he ever thought about what he could bring home to his wife?

I had believed I was different. That whatever sickness had spread through the other alphas, my marriage was untouched.

I wiped my mouth and looked in the mirror. My eyes were swollen. My face was gray. I scrubbed my lips until they burned, but I could still taste him.

I set the phone back on the nightstand and didn’t look at the man sleeping next to it. I picked up my bag and left the room.

In the guestroom, I curled up on the bed and pressed my hand over my mouth to muffle the sobs.

Ten years of marriage.

Ten years of nothing.

No parents. No sister. No job. Friends who had known. If I left, I had nowhere to go. No one to call.

For the first time since I found out, I truly regretted marrying Aaron Blackwood.

⸻

A hand shook my shoulder.

Aaron stood at the foot of the bed, his jaw rigid, his phone gripped at his side. He wasn’t smiling.

“What’s wrong, Aaron?”

He raised the screen. The gallery glared back at me, still open. I had forgotten to close it.

“I’m going to ask you one time, Daisy. Did you check my phone last night?”

The room turned colder than it had ever been. In ten years, I had never heard that voice.

“Yes, but—”

His hand cracked across my face.

I hit the floor. Bells rang in my skull. Aaron had slapped me. Aaron, who had cried at our wedding. Aaron, who cut my toast into hearts.

I scrambled back until the wall stopped me and pressed my palm to my burning cheek.

He towered over me, and his eyes had gone full red, the alpha glow bleeding past the iris until nothing human remained. His lip curled back from teeth that were too sharp, and the air around him seemed to hum.

“Why would you do that?” he said, low and shaking. “I didn’t want you to find out!”

There was no guilt in his face. No shame. Only fury.

“I didn’t know,” I whispered, my voice barely recognizable. “Aaron, I didn’t know any of this.”

“Then you should have kept your nose out of my business.”

My lips parted, but fear had tightened around my throat. I couldn’t find the words.

Suddenly, a ringtone interrupted us.

We both turned.

My bag.

It was lying beside the wardrobe. The phone inside continued ringing.

Aaron’s eyes narrowed.

“Who is calling you this early?”

I couldn’t answer. My heart was pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat.

He walked over, picked up my bag and pulled out the phone.

The moment he saw it, his expression changed.

“This isn’t the phone I got you, Daisy.”

My blood ran cold, “Aaron…”

He scoffed, his voice coming out like a raw animal, you know. You know right? You know about the tracker. You know about everything, don’t you? That’s why you followed me last night? That’s why you…” he shut his eyes, clenching his jaw.

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I stared at him, unable to move, my heart was thumping hard in my chest. Something had changed.

This was not Aaron. And as I looked into his glowing red eyes, I realised I was in far more danger than I had ever imagined.

He was going to kill me.