Chapter Nineteen

Julian sat alone in his office, the early morning sun spilling across Kaelani’s file. His gaze lingered on the line he couldn’t let go of:

Origin: Lycan. Secondary Origin: Unknown.

His thumb brushed the edge of her photo, that grainy image of a too-young girl with storm-gray eyes. “What are you?” He whispered.

His chest tightened. Unknown wasn’t an answer—it was a crack in the world that demanded filling. He’d already instructed Jace to dig deeper—pull strings, exhaust resources, even sift through DNA records of species thought long extinct. Anything to explain the mystery behind the woman who flipped his entire world upside down.

The door swung open without warning.

Julian snapped the file shut and shoved it into his desk drawer as Elara breezed in like she had long staked claim on the space.

“You really need to learn how to knock,” he said, voice flat.

She gave a lilting laugh, unbothered, and crossed the room. Her hands slid over his shoulders, kneading lightly. “You didn’t come to bed again last night.”

He said nothing, his jaw locked tight.

She leaned closer, her scent sharp against his senses. “But it’s alright. I understand. You’re under so much pressure, stretched so thin. You carry so much for all of us.”

Her fingers pressed firmer, kneading as though she could work obedience out of his muscles. “Once the mating ceremony is behind us, you’ll feel lighter. Things between us will be…better. Stronger. Once we mark and mate each other, nothing will come between our bond.”

Julian’s shoulders went rigid beneath her touch. “Bond,” he echoed, low.

“Mmh.” She kissed the crown of his head before circling to face him. “And since you’ve been far too busy to set a date, I went ahead and chose one. One week from today.”

His head lifted slowly, eyes narrowing. “You set a date?”

“I thought it would ease your mind. Your father thought it was a great idea and even commended me for taking charge—like a true Luna should.” Her smile curved like a blade as she leaned closer. “That isn’t a problem, is it? You do still want me as your Luna?”

His wolf snarled beneath his skin, but Julian kept his face impassive. Trapped. “Yes,” he said. “Of course.”

Her smile widened, satisfied. She bent and pressed her mouth to his, tongue slipping past his lips. He endured it, forcing himself to respond to keep the lie intact, but her taste was wrong. Bitter where it should have been sweet. Hollow where it should have been fire.

Inside him, his wolf was furious, snarling in protest.

Elara finally broke the kiss, her lips curving with satisfaction. “I also arranged for the tailor to come by this afternoon. He’ll need to measure you for your suit. I want the trim to match my dress perfectly.”

She smoothed a hand down his chest as though sealing the decision, then turned on her heel, gliding toward the door. “Don’t be late, Julian.” The door shut behind her with a soft click, leaving the echo of her scent clinging to the room.

For a moment, Julian sat there, the silence pressing in. Underneath the surface, his wolf prowled, teeth bared at the taste still lingering on his tongue.

Slowly, he pulled open the desk drawer and drew out the file. He flipped to the page near the back—contact information neatly printed in black ink. An address. A phone number. Tangible, reachable details that tied her to the world he couldn’t stop circling.

His hand slipped into his pocket, fingers curling around his phone. The screen lit his face as he tapped in the digits before he could second-guess himself.

The line rang once. Twice. His thumb hovered over the screen, ready to end the call—

“Hello?”

He froze, breath locked tight in his chest. Silence stretched until her voice came again, faintly impatient. “Hello?”

He cleared his throat, forcing the word out. “Hey.”

Kaelani’s grip on her phone tightened. She knew that voice instantly—felt it in her chest before her mind even named him. But she refused to give him the satisfaction of familiarity. “Who is this?”

A pause. “Julian.”

Her eyes slid shut for a moment, then opened again, steeled with ice. “What do you want?” The words cut like glass.

Julian’s hand flexed around the phone, the bluntness slicing deeper than he’d braced for. He drew in a breath. “When I came the other day…it wasn’t to lecture you. Not really.” A beat. “I wanted to know how you were.”

Her throat tightened at his words, though she kept her tone steady. “I’m fine.”

There was a pause on the line, a faint rustle, then his voice, lower now. “Oh…are you sure? Because if you need—”

“Yes,” she cut in, sharp. “I said I’m fine.” Her grip on the phone tightened beneath her trembling hand, but her voice didn’t waver. “Why wouldn’t I be? We have no ties to each other whatsoever.”

The silence that followed was thick, suffocating. She pressed on anyway, twisting the knife. “That’s a good thing, right? Isn’t that exactly what you wanted?”

Julian’s breath caught, audible even through the line—but she didn’t give him the chance to answer.

“We don’t have to see each other ever again. And we certainly don’t have to do…whatever this is.” Her voice cracked once, but she swallowed it down, steel hardening over the break. “So, please—don’t call me again.”

The line went dead with a soft click, leaving nothing but the deafening silence of his office.

Julian lowered the phone slowly, setting it face-down on his desk with deliberate care, as though gentleness could undo the sting of her voice.

Don’t call me again.

The words replayed, merciless, every syllable cutting right down to the bone.

His wolf snarled in the hollow of his chest, vicious and unrelenting, demanding he get up—go to her, make her submit, remind her who she belonged to. The instinct thrashed hot and ugly, but Julian kept himself anchored, fingers digging into the edge of the desk so fiercely the wood threatened to splinter beneath his grasp.

“No ties.”

The phrase lodged like shrapnel, because it wasn’t hers. It had been his, spat out in cold calculation after he’d rutted her. He had handed her that weapon, and she had gutted him with it.

His jaw clenched. Rage and guilt burned together, molten and choking. She hated him, that was clear as day and she had every right to ice him out. But that didn’t cool the fire in his blood.

If anything, it only made it worse.

She wasn’t just in his dreams anymore—she was under his skin, defying him, haunting him, driving him mad with the need to claim what he couldn’t.

Julian leaned back in his chair at last, closing his eyes. Outwardly composed. Inwardly, split down the center, fighting a war between restraint and the feral truth howling in his bones.

—-

Kaelani tossed her phone aside, the soft thud against the couch cushions doing nothing to ease the sharp twist in her chest. She pulled her knees up onto the wide sill of her back window, settling into the nook that had once been her favorite place. From here, she could see her little garden, the one she used to admire every Sunday morning with a cup of coffee and quiet contentment.

Now, even that was tainted.

She wrapped her arms around her legs, chin resting on her knee, as her gaze burned holes through the glass. His voice still echoed in her head: I wanted to know how you were.

Kaelani let out a scoff that was more bitter than amused, muttering under her breath. The nerve of him reaching out to her, pretending to give a damn after everything. Hadn’t he taken enough? Stripped her bare, chewed her up, and spit her out?

Her nails tapped against the sill, restless, the silence around her broken only by the sharp staccato of her frustration.

“Stupid Alphas.” She breathed out.

All the same, every last one of them. Strutting around like gods among mortals, as if their muscles and deep voices granted them the right to command the world. Barking orders no one dared question, always expecting women to bend, to yield, to fold themselves neatly into their shadows.

Her hand went to her neck, still there—angry, raw, unmistakable. A brand she had never asked for.

Her fingers grazed it, and she flinched at the sting. It isn’t real. She told herself firmly, jaw tight. It’s just the old mark acting up. Stress. That’s all it is.

She shut her eyes, willing it away, willing him away. But when she opened them, the mark remained—harrowing and defiant. A brand that tied her to a man she wanted to forget, a tether she couldn’t seem to escape.