Chapter 42

Elora's pov

I really never imagined I would end up here, staring into Dominic’s eyes, watching every ounce of trust shatter in real-time. He was always unreadable, colder than a November pond, but today, all that calm went up in smoke. He looked at me like I was some rat crawling out from under his bed, like he was itching to stomp.

And there on the ground, a mess of letters. My name. Dante’s. Laid out in the tidiest little lines, neat as you please, stinking of melted wax and straight-up treachery. Meticulously written, like somebody really wanted it to look legit. Too perfect, actually. And if I didn’t know myself, I would probably buy it.

But I do know myself. And there’s no way.

Dominic, though, his whole body was strung tight. He barely kept himself from swinging. When he spoke, the room went cold.

“You. Both of you. How long has this been going on?” It was more of a punch than a question.

I’ll admit it, that stung. Worse than a punch in the throat. All I managed was a half-choked, “Planned? You really think I’d ever...?”

His stare bounced between me and Dante, pure disgust. He couldn’t even hide it.

Dante stepped in front of me with that big-brother energy plastered calm on the outside, about to explode underneath. “Don’t,” he warned, voice steady. Seriously, the guy could take a bullet and not flinch. “Don’t drag Elora into this. She’s not involved.”

And Dominic just laughed. Real ugly sound, that acid staining the words. He punted a letter across the floor so it skittered at my feet. “Not involved? Her name’s on every line. You really expect me to buy your act?”

My heart was doing drum solos in my chest. “Dominic...” I started, but...

The door swung open. Mira glides in wearing this picture-perfect expression, sorrow carved into her face like she’s auditioning for Most Heartbroken. The pain in her eyes? Please. I could smell the sweet rot. She crept toward Dominic all slow, voice syrupy, “Oh, Dominic. Please. Maybe this is just a misunderstanding?”

I caught it right then, that flash in her eyes. Satisfaction, pure and shining, tucked behind the fake pity. She wanted this. Been planning it, probably giggling about it in her room for days.

Mouth half open with fury, I didn’t even get a word out before Dante’s voice sliced right through, solid as always. “I have nothing to do with this.” He wasn’t whispering anymore...no, he was done begging. “Brother, look at me. This?”...he jabbed at the letters...“It’s a setup. You know me. I’d never stab you in the back. And Elora...”

And Dominic...done. “Enough!” he snapped loud enough you’d think the whole castle would come running. His eyes were ringed with all this rage, but there’s something worse underneath. Hurt. Oh, that hurt stung more than anything.

Without even looking at us, he barked a command at the guards. “Take him.”

The floor just dropped out. I literally lost my balance. “What? Dominic, no! You can’t...”

The guards didn’t hesitate. Two giant blocks of muscle on Dante, shoving, grabbing his arms. For a second I thought he’d break free, his whole body tensed, chin up, that low growl in his chest, but then he locked eyes with me. ‘Don’t ruin what little chance we have,’ that look said. I could have screamed.

“Dominic! Please!” I lunged, tried to catch his arm, but he yanked away so violently it was like I had turned to acid. “He’s your brother! You can’t just...”

He spat back at me, “I can. I will. To think he was my Beta. He stays in the cells. No food. No luxuries. Not until the evidence is clear.”

I felt sick. “No food? Are you kidding? He’s your blood!”

His face twisted, cold as marble. “And if blood betrays me, what good is it?” Just like that, a final sentence.

Behind him, Mira faked a gasp, hand fluttering to her mouth like she just witnessed a puppy get punted. For one split second though? Her eyes met mine, and the mask slipped. There it was. Triumph. A tiny smirk before she shoved it back under that veil of fake concern.

I almost called her out right there, to hell with consequences. But before I could, the guards dragged Dante out. My shout strangled his name.

“DANTE!”

He twisted his neck, fighting their hold, just for a second, so his eyes caught mine. Lips barely moved, but I caught it anyway. Don’t break. Didn’t even need sound. I got it.

Then, gone. Just like that.

The chamber door slammed so hard it might’ve cracked my ribs, or maybe that was just inside me. I stood there like an idiot, every noise sucked out of the room, except the ugly taste of what I had just done clawing at my mouth. I guess my words still sort of hung in the air, ghosts nobody wanted.

Dominic? Forget it. He wouldn’t meet my eye, wouldn’t look anywhere, really. Just locked up, jaw clenched, staring at the coals. Anyone could see it, regret, shame, whatever, eating at him, drilling straight into his bones.

But me? I couldn’t tear my gaze away from Mira.

Because, oh, she was fixated on me.

And hell, you should’ve seen the glint in her eye. Yeah, she was loving every second.

Those iron doors didn’t just close, they pretty much screamed the place shut. My chest felt like it caught the whole shockwave. Gone. They had dragged him away, Dominic’s crew, his damn brother, yanking him straight into the dirty depths where this pack dumps its mistakes. I dug my nails so deep into my palms I actually drew blood, and, honestly, it barely registered next to what I was feeling.

I couldn’t move. Forget breathing, like my lungs were frozen open, and my heart was just... losing its mind.

Didn’t know what else to do, so I tore off after Dominic, damn near tripping over my skirts, desperation making my voice thin and scratchy. “Dominic!” Nothing pretty about it. “Please, just hold up!”

He didn’t even slow down. He was all cold, storming off like a fortress I couldn’t break.

I finally managed to grab him in one of those creepy fire-lit hallways, huffing for breath. “You can’t do this. Seriously, he’s innocent. You know he is,” I spat out, nearly gasping.

He spun around so fast I almost clocked my chin on his back, and the look in his eyes? Yeah, no, those weren’t the ones I knew. Not the old Alpha smolder, not wounded, just strangers’ eyes, carved hard with suspicion, like betrayal wasn’t just a word but an actual weapon.,