CHAPTER 5

DELIA WHITAKER POV

"Alpha Calloway doesn't look like the type to shop at bargain stalls, and I certainly can't afford high-end territory silk on my administrative stipend," I tell Kellan as we step onto the cobblestone boulevard of the Capital's luxury district.

I keep my pace steady, walking half a step behind Rowan. He moves down the grand avenue without stopping, his eyes sweeping past the gilded store displays with complete disinterest. At this rate, we will walk the entire length of the district without stepping inside a single establishment.

I quicken my stride, stepping up to his side. "Alpha Calloway, would you like to enter one of the leather goods boutiques?"

Rowan gives a single, curt nod, shifting his path toward the grand entrance of a premier wolf-skin craft shop.

Before we can cross the threshold, a uniformed guard steps directly into our path, holding up a hand. "Sir, pack members without priority clearance must queue in the outer line."

Rowan's dark eyebrows pull down into a cold line. As the supreme leader of the Calloway Pack, no one has ever asked him to wait in a public line.

Before the guard's disrespect can ignite Rowan's alpha pressure, I step forward, pulling the Calloway Corporation's platinum crest card from my coat pocket. The moment the guard catches sight of the obsidian wolf emblem, his posture snaps straight, his face turning pale.

"My humblest apologies!" The guard bows deeply, sweeping the door open. "Please, step straight into the private VIP suite."

The senior store clerk in the VIP lounge greets us like visiting royals, bringing out locked velvet cases containing handcrafted leather totes that standard pack members wait months to request.

"Sir, Madam," the clerk smiles smoothly, spreading the collection across the display table. "Please feel free to select whichever piece suits your tastes."

My cheeks burn at the clerk's mistake. "I am his administrative assistant."

Rowan’s jaw tightens behind his silver-framed glasses. Even though he has been separated from his legal mate for a full year, he does not tolerate assumptions about his personal life.

"She is assisting me in selecting a gift for my Luna," Rowan rumbles, his deep voice carrying a sharp edge of correction.

"Forgive me, Alpha!" The clerk bows nervously, taking a quick step back.

Yet, as I stand beside Rowan, I can understand why the clerk made the mistake. The sheer contrast of his massive, dark alpha aura against my quiet, composed demeanor makes us look like an established pair standing side by side.

Rowan looks down at the four rare wolf-hide bags resting on the velvet cloth. Unable to gauge what a female would prefer, he makes a blunt decision. "Wrap all four."

The total comes out to over one hundred thousand pack credits.

Next, I guide him to the district's high-tier jeweler. The moment we cross the threshold, the head jeweler ushers us to the central glass counter, pulling out a shimmering diamond-and-moonstone pendant.

"Alpha," the jeweler says, beaming. "This piece was crafted under the full moon in the northern mountains. Your Luna will look radiant wearing it."

The clerk turns to me with a polite grin. "Madam, would you like to try the clasp so the Alpha can see how it rests against the neck?"

"I am his assistant," I repeat, my voice tight as I struggle to keep my frustration buried deep.

What is wrong with everyone in this city tonight?

Do I look like a Luna? I am dressed in a plain wool coat, holding a leather tablet case, carefully maintaining a respectful two-foot distance from my boss so I don't lose my job.

I glance over at Rowan. This time, he doesn't bother correcting the jeweler aloud, but the darkening shadow in his eyes signals his mounting irritation.

"Wrap the moonstone pendant and the silver chain," Rowan orders coldly.

I pull out the corporate account card to swipe for the transaction, my heart practically bleeding as the total flashes across the screen. Thousands of credits gone in a single second. I have been working day and night for years, saving every single credit just to secure a down payment on a small apartment in Briarford City, yet the high pack elders spend more on a single trinket than an administrator earns in half a year.

Once the heavy velvet boxes are packaged, I take charge of carrying them, as Kellan is still stuck searching for a secure parking spot for the heavy black transport.

As we step out onto the cool streets, Rowan glances down at me. "Do you still have personal items to source?"

I point toward a narrow side street lined with warm, glowing lantern shops. "The shop I need isn't in the luxury center, Alpha. It's a short walk down the lower avenue."

"Lead," Rowan commands, though he keeps his long, protective stride right in front of me.

The luxury boxes and jewelry cases are packed in massive decorative outer bags. I carry two large handles in each hand, looking like a loaded pack mule as I try to keep up with his massive strides.

Because of the clerk's earlier mistake, Rowan's aura has grown significantly colder, his distance more pronounced. He is clearly establishing boundaries so I don't get any improper ideas about his status. I actually respect his strict loyalty as a mated Alpha, even if his coldness makes my chest feel strangely tight.

Ten minutes later, we stop in front of a small, cozy boutique filled with hand-carved wooden trinkets and plush wolf plushies.

Elspeth has been begging for a hand-stitched winter wolf plushie from this specific Capital artisan for months.

"Alpha Calloway, I need to step inside here for a few minutes," I say, dropping the heavy shopping bags onto a bench by the door.

"I will wait out here," Rowan replies, stepping toward the curb.

Knowing I shouldn't keep the leader of the Calloway Pack waiting on a drafty street corner, I rush inside. I quickly grab the specific plushie Elspeth wanted, but as I head toward the counter, the vibrant rows of carved wooden charms and soft velvet hair ribbons catch my eye.

Outside, Rowan lights a dark cigar, leaning his broad back against a stone pillar. Through the warm glass window, he watches me weave through the narrow wooden shelves.

He notices the dramatic change in my posture. In the high-end luxury stores, I looked stressed, cautious, and burdened by the absurd prices. But in this tiny, low-tier gift shop, my eyes are bright, a soft, genuine smile touching my lips as I gently pick up small carved trinkets.

Do young females actually prefer these simple things over diamonds?

Would my mate prefer something like this?

Rowan pushes open the shop door, the brass bell chiming as his tall frame fills the cozy space. He walks over to a display of soft, hand-stitched wolf plushies, picking one up with his massive, calloused hand. He tries to picture his legal mate holding it.

He can't even remember the exact details of her face—only that she was small, quiet, and had striking, resilient eyes on the day they signed the register.

He looks up, his gaze landing squarely on my face. For a split second, the image of his forgotten mate and the sight of me standing under the shop's warm lanterns overlap perfectly in his mind.

Rowan instantly shakes the thought away, scowling at his own mind. He spends every day working alongside me; it is only natural his brain would default to the face he sees most often.

I turn around, surprised to see him inside. "Alpha Calloway? Are you looking for a gift here as well?"

Rowan stares down at the soft plushie in his grip. "I don't know if she would care for such things."

I smile softly, keeping my voice gentle. "Alpha, females don't measure a mate's devotion by the credit count on a tag. It's the fact that you walked into a shop and picked it out yourself that matters. If you buy it with her in mind, she will treasure it."

"Is that so?" Rowan rumbles, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that makes my heart skip a beat.

He thinks about the cold telephone call from two weeks ago, about the male voice in the background of her apartment. He had left her alone for an entire year after signing their pack records. He couldn't simply command her to return to the pack manor without showing real effort.

"Select them," Rowan says abruptly.

"What?" I ask, blinking.

"Select everything a young female would like in this shop," he commands, pulling out a heavy black credit voucher.

"Alpha," I say quickly, taking a step closer to gently stay his hand. "You don't need to buy the entire store. A few meaningful items are more than enough."

Rowan ignores my economic advice entirely, pointing at three whole display shelves of plushies, carved wooden music boxes, and velvet ribbons. "Pack them all."

By the time we leave the boutique, the small trinkets outnumber the luxury items three to one. I have to purchase an extra hard-shell travel case from the vendor across the street just to fit all the gifts Rowan bought for his Luna.

As I roll the heavy case toward the waiting black SUV, I can't help but feel a sudden, bitter pang in the depth of my chest.

Whoever his Luna is, she is the luckiest female in the entire Briarford territory.