CHAPTER 3

DELIA WHITAKER POV

"A pack mate expects sincerity, Alpha," I say, keeping my voice steady despite the intense alpha aura pressing against my skin. "Expensive gifts like a star-diamond choker are impressive, but what really matters to a female is the thought behind it. A bouquet of midnight roses, a quiet dinner together in the territory, or simply sitting down to talk after being away for so long."

Rowan Calloway has no experience with romance. His entire life has been built on war, territory defense, and leading the Calloway Pack. Hearing a direct, practical answer from me makes his dark eyes soften just a fraction behind his silver-framed glasses.

"Understood," Rowan rumbles, leaning back into his executive chair. "Prepare the arrangements, Delia."

"Yes, Alpha," I reply immediately.

I step out of the inner suite and contact the premier florists affiliated with Calloway Tower, ordering a fresh bundle of blood-red roses—the traditional symbol of wolf devotion. I secure reservations at a private estate dining room in the Silverbrook District and draft a smooth evening itinerary.

Reaching the high-ranking assistant seat took relentless effort. I know every territory boundary, every pack custom, and every high-end location in Briarford City by heart.

By five o'clock, the roses are delivered to Rowan's desk along with the dinner details. My work for the day is officially done.

The moment I step out of Calloway Tower and reach my apartment in the Silverbrook District, the tension drains from my muscles. I kick off my shoes, drop onto the plush sofa, and close my eyes, completely exhausted.

ROWAN CALLOWAY POV

The heavy black SUV pulls up to the residential complex in Silverbrook District.

I pull out my phone to contact my mate, only to pause on the keypad. A sharp sting of guilt hits my chest. I don't have her number saved. After signing our mate marriage record at the Briarford Registry Office a year ago, I was deployed straight to the border war zone. I never called her. I never checked on her. I left her completely alone in the city.

I search through my previous message history with my grandmother, Florence, and find the contact number she sent me earlier.

I press dial.

The line rings three times before a soft, sleepy female voice answers. "Hello? Who is this?"

She doesn't even have my number saved.

I tighten my grip on the phone, keeping my tone smooth. "It's Rowan."

"Mr. Rowan? Hello," her voice comes back, polite, formal, and entirely distant—like she is speaking to a complete stranger. "What can I do for you?"

Before I can tell her I am parked outside her building with roses to bring her back to the Calloway Pack manor, a deep male voice echoes clearly through her phone's receiver.

"Babe, wake up! Dinner is ready on the table..."

My blood turns to ice.

The air inside the vehicle drops ten degrees as my wolf snarls beneath my ribs. The urge to rip the phone apart clawing at my knuckles.

Without saying another word, I end the call.

I look down at the velvet box containing the thirty-million-dollar star-diamond choker resting beside the bright red roses on the leather seat. A harsh, burning anger flares behind my eyes.

"Drive," I command the driver, my voice lethal and cold. "Take me to the Silvermere estate."

DELIA WHITAKER POV

I rub my eyes, staring at my phone screen in confusion. The line is dead.

I don't even remember who "Rowan" is. My mind was so fogged by sleep and the brutal workload at Calloway Tower that the name didn't trigger a single memory of the registry office from a year ago. I figure it was just a misplaced pack administrative call and toss the phone onto the cushion.

I stand up and walk into the kitchen, leaning against the counter between Elspeth Rowan and Kellan Rhodes. "Why didn't you guys wake me up when you got back from the studio?"

Elspeth reaches over, gently pinching my cheek. "You looked like a exhausted little pup lying there. I wasn't going to disturb you."

Kellan sets three plates of grilled meat and vegetables onto the table, setting down three glasses of red wine. "Go wash up, Delia. Celebration dinner is served."

The three of us grew up in the same lower-tier pack territory, moving to Briarford City together for university. After graduation, we opened an independent comic and illustration studio together, sharing a three-bedroom apartment to cut costs.

"What's all this for?" I ask, taking a seat at the table.

"We're celebrating your promotion to the Alpha's special assistant desk at Calloway Tower!" Elspeth beams, sliding into the chair beside me. "Tell me everything! Alpha Calloway never lets media capture his face. Half the unmated females in the city are dying to see him. Is he as insanely attractive as the rumors say?"

Kellan snorts, taking a sip of his wine. "Just because he holds the supreme Alpha title doesn't mean he's good-looking. For all we know, he keeps his face hidden because he looks like a cave bear."

I laugh, taking a sip of my wine. "He's exceptionally handsome, Kellan. But if you want to know if he makes people melt, you'll have to ask his Luna."

Elspeth's mouth drops open. "Wait! Alpha Calloway is mated?"

"Yes," I say, nodding. "He spoke about her today. He seems deeply devoted to her, too. But every time I look at him, I get this weird feeling that I've met him somewhere before, I just can't place where."

Elspeth giggles. "You think every gorgeous male looks familiar, Delia. That's your inner wolf flirting."

"Hey," Kellan warns playfully, pointing a fork at me. "Reminder, Whitaker—you're technically a mated female."

Elspeth rolls her eyes instantly. "Oh, please! Can't a girl admire a handsome Alpha? You expect Delia to stay loyal to a phantom guy who signed a paper a year ago and vanished off the face of the earth?"

I shrug, feeling entirely unbothered by the mention of my legal mate. "I don't need a mate when I have you two running the studio with me."

When I signed that paper at the registry office, I thought about building a quiet, normal life with him. But after twelve months of radio silence, any lingering expectation died. The only reason I haven't filed for a formal dissolution is because my grandmother, Mabel, keeps reminding me that she wants to visit us in Briarford City this coming winter.

"Damn right," Elspeth says, clinking her glass against mine. "Who needs a ghost mate?"

The next morning, I arrive at Calloway Tower twenty minutes early.

A sleek black luxury sedan pulls up to the private executive entrance just as I walk up the steps. I quickly step forward, holding the heavy reinforced door open for my boss.

"Good morning, Alpha Calloway," I say professionally.

Rowan steps out of the car. His face is stoic, but the aura radiating off his body is dark, heavy, and lethal—far worse than yesterday. He nods once without looking directly at me and walks straight toward his private elevator.

I follow him inside, pulling up the digital schedule on my tablet to read off his morning commitments.

"At nine o'clock, you have a private course session at the Silvermere Country Club with the Alpha of Digital Sports Technology," I report as the elevator rises.

Rowan says nothing, keeping his eyes locked on the digital floor indicator.

By nine-thirty, we are standing near the pristine greens of the Silvermere Country Club. Rowan moves through the high-stakes meeting with effortless authority, shaking hands and discussing pack territorial investments with the visiting Alpha.

Yet, standing ten paces behind him alongside Kellan, I can still feel the suffocating alpha pressure radiating off Rowan's shoulders.

Kellan leans close to my shoulder, keeping his voice down to a tiny whisper. "Delia... what is wrong with the Alpha today? Did something happen?"

"If you don't know, how would I know?" I whisper back, keeping my eyes fixed on the field.

Kellan furrowed his brows, thinking back through the previous night's logs. "His security schedule was clear. No border threats, no pack disputes... Could it be that things didn't go well with his mate last night?"