Chapter 5 - Raine's POV

"I hope you aren't waiting for a thank you," I said, my voice cold.

I stood by the marble sinks, scrubbing the back of my neck. The skin felt raw, but I couldn't stop. I needed to peel away the phantom sensation of Torin’s mouth near my skin. Every touch from that man felt like a stain I couldn't quite reach.

Xavier Wright didn't move. He remained leaned against the counter, his long legs crossed at the ankles. He watched me with a look that sat somewhere between genuine interest and a predator eyeing a particularly sharp-toothed rabbit.

"You’re quite the fierce one, aren't you?" he asked. He sounded amused, like he was watching a play he’d already seen the ending to.

I turned the tap off and faced him. "If someone does something wrong, they deserve the consequences. Isn't that how your world works?"

"By that logic," Xavier said, pushing off the counter and stepping into my space, "I just saved you from a very messy scene. How do you plan to settle the debt?"

He was tall, broader than he looked in the papers, and he smelled like cedar and something metallic. He carried himself with the heavy, suffocating authority of a man who didn't just lead a pack, but owned it. It made my skin prickle with a different kind of heat.

"Since you’re eating here too, I’ll take care of your bill," I said. I reached for a paper towel, keeping my movements deliberate. "Consider us even."

Xavier let out a short, dry laugh. "Mr. Wright? Is that what you call all your one-night stands? So formal."

I felt the blood rush to my face. I tried to push past him, but he didn't budge.

"And paying for dinner?" he continued, his voice dropping an octave. "Is that really what I'm worth to you? A few expensive steaks?"

I frowned, my hand tightening on my bag. "Then what do you want?"

I knew the stories. Everyone did. Xavier Wright was the man who had been cast out and crawled back to the top through blood and grit. People said he’d cleared the path to his inheritance by getting rid of his stepmother's unborn children. They said he ran with rogues and dealt in things that never saw the light of day. I already had a dozen reasons to keep my distance, but here I was, trapped in a bathroom with him.

He looked me over, his eyes traveling from my messy hair down to my shoes, slow and steady. "I haven't decided yet. Let’s just call it an IOU for now."

He stepped aside, finally giving me a path to the door, but his smirk didn't fade. "It really is a shame, though. My pathetic brother never realized what he was letting go. He has no idea what your body is actually capable of."

I didn't give him the satisfaction of a response. I walked out, my heels clicking a rapid, angry rhythm against the tile.

"Raine! There you are. I thought you fell in," Zanna said as I sat back down at our table. She looked at me closely. "Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Or a very attractive demon."

"I’m fine," I said, picking up my wine glass. "Just some unwanted company. Can we just eat?"

"Wait, I have to tell you the news first!" Zanna leaned in, her eyes shining. "The jewelry design competition results came in. I submitted those sketches you did last month. You took the gold, Raine! The prize money is already being processed, and I’ve got three different firms asking for a meeting with 'Zena'."

I nodded, feeling a small, dull spark of pride. Most people saw me as a socialite or a quiet omega, but they didn't see the years of discipline. My grandfather hadn't just raised a granddaughter; he had raised an Alpha. I had been drilled in hand-to-hand combat since I was ten. I could strip a rifle in the dark and find a man’s pulse point with a blade before he could blink.

A man like Torin, with his average strength and his predictable lies, was a child compared to me. He had no idea who I really was. And now, he never would.

"Let’s celebrate," Zanna said, grabbing my arm as we stood up to leave. "I know a club nearby. They have a fresh lineup of male models starting tonight. You need a distraction."

I shook my head, the weight of the day finally catching up to me. "Not tonight, Zanna. I just want a long shower and a quiet room."

"Fine, fine," she pouted. "But next weekend, no excuses."

I went home and spent two hours under the water. I used the coarsest sponge I had on my neck until the skin was bright red. Disgust is a hard thing to wash off.

The next few days were a blur of phone calls. Whitaker Jewelry, the company owned by Twyla’s family, even tried to reach out to me. They wanted 'Zena' to save their failing fall line. I deleted the email without reading it.

By the time the gala arrived, I was ready for a different kind of war. My grandfather was supposed to attend to announce me as his successor, but a sudden bout of fatigue kept him home.

"Go," he told me, clutching my hand. "Let them see you. Let them wonder who you are before you tell them."

I arrived at the capital’s most exclusive ballroom dressed in a floor-length black gown. It was simple, sharp, and fit like a second skin. I didn't need jewels to look like I belonged there. I grew up in rooms like this.

I drifted toward a quiet corner, sipping champagne and listening to the local gossip.

"Did you hear the Winslow patriarch is here?" a woman in a heavy silk dress whispered.

"The Polar Claws Winslows?" her friend asked. "I thought they stayed overseas."

"He’s here to introduce his heir. A granddaughter. She’s taking over the entire pack and the fortune. Can you imagine the power that girl is sitting on?"

I smiled into my glass. They were looking for a princess, but they were about to get a general.

The mood in the room shifted when the double doors opened again. Torin and Twyla walked in, draped over each other like a cheap trophy and its owner. They looked smug, basking in the congratulations of people who only liked them for their titles.

I felt Torin’s eyes before I saw them.

The bond we used to have was a tattered, broken string, but there was enough left for me to feel his shock. He stopped walking. He actually stopped in the middle of the floor to stare at me. He looked like he’d been slapped.

He’d never seen me like this. In his mind, I was the compliant girl who waited at home. Now, I was a silhouette of black silk and red lipstick, looking back at him with nothing but boredom.

Twyla noticed. Her hand tightened on his arm, her manicured nails digging into his suit jacket. She looked at me, and I saw the exact moment her insecurity turned into venom. She didn't see a rival; she saw a threat that needed to be put down.

She stepped forward, her voice cutting through the soft music.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in," Twyla sneered, loud enough for the surrounding circle to go quiet. "How did you even get past the gate, Raine? Did you sneak in with the kitchen staff?"

The whispers started immediately. I felt the weight of a hundred eyes on me.

"Security!" Twyla called out, waving a hand dismissively. "We have a guest who clearly lost her way. Please remove this woman before she ruins the evening for the rest of us."