Chapter 4

"Caterina, do you really think this little drama of yours will work?"

I had just stepped out of Rocco's office building when Scarlett's mind-link invaded my thoughts.

"Damon? Please. You really think Rocco will ever let you go?"

Her mental voice dripped with smug satisfaction.

"He's furious. Probably already planning how he's going to charm his way back into your bed. What do you think his excuse will be this time? An apology? Another empty promise?"

I didn't respond, simply reinforcing my mental shields.

But she was right.

Rocco wouldn't let go easily.

This time, however, it wasn't up to him.

The neon lights of the city blurred past the car window. Pedestrians hurried along the streets, each with a place to go, a place to belong.

And I was about to leave this city for good.

Three days until my flight.

It was midnight when I finally returned to the empty den.

A light was on in the living room.

Rocco was on the sofa, looking exhausted. His suit was wrinkled, his hair a mess, his eyes bloodshot.

"Caterina." He stood, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. "I'm sorry. I was out of line earlier."

He walked toward me, his steps cautious, as if afraid of startling a wounded animal.

"I was just so scared of losing you." A tremor entered his voice. "Don't you know that, Caterina? You're my whole world."

It was the first time I had ever heard Rocco sound so humble, so apologetic.

"Our anniversary is just a few days away," he said, stopping a few feet from me, carefully watching my expression. "What do you want to do? We could go to the Maldives, or Iceland to see the northern lights like you've always wanted. I promise, no interruptions. We can even turn off our phones."

"Whatever you want," I said, my voice flat.

"Caterina, I promise, I've dealt with the situation with Scar," he said, stepping closer, reaching for my hand. "She won't…"

"Okay."

I cut him off. The atmosphere in the room turned instantly awkward.

Rocco was clearly unprepared for my placid reaction. He'd expected tears, shouting, a dramatic reunion—none of which he got.

I was like a polite stranger, distant and cold.

"I'm going to take a shower," I said, walking around him toward the bathroom.

"Caterina," he called out from behind me, his voice laced with an undeniable anxiety. "Are you… okay? You seem…"

I turned to look at him, at the man who once made my heart race, the man I would have given up everything for, and I managed a small, tired smile.

"I'm fine."

In the bathroom, the hot water cascaded from the showerhead. I had turned the temperature up so high it nearly scalded my skin.

I hoped the heat could wash away the lingering scent of him, wash away the emptiness and numbness in my heart.

But it was useless.

When I came out of the bathroom, Rocco was no longer in the living room.

He was standing in front of the closet, staring.

It had once been full of my clothes. Now, only a few of my old, out-of-season coats remained.

"Where are your clothes?" he asked, turning to me, his eyes filled with confusion.

"I cleaned some things out. Donated what didn't fit anymore," I said calmly, walking to the vanity.

His gaze darted around the room, searching for more signs of change.

But I had been meticulous, leaving only the bare essentials.

"Caterina." He walked toward me and opened his arms.

I didn't pull away.

His embrace was warm, his chest broad, his Alpha scent familiar and safe. But I felt none of the familiar thrill.

"I love you," he whispered in my ear. "You are my only Luna."

Those were the words I had once longed to hear more than anything.

Rocco held me tight, trying to feel a response through our Mate Bond.

But my body remained stiff and cold, offering no warmth in return. He couldn't feel the love and affection he expected from me, only a deep, unbreachable distance.

He frowned, the dull ache that had started in his chest the day he signed the paper beginning to throb again.

At that moment, my mental shields were slammed with a violent force.

A flood of images and memories poured into my mind—

Private mind-links between Rocco and Scarlett stretching back six years—a dense, sickening tapestry of deceit.

【Rocco: Caterina made your favorite blueberry scones again today. I think of you every time I eat them.】

【Scarlett: Really? I miss the breakfasts you used to make for me.】

【Rocco: Caterina's wolf form really does look like yours, especially the eyes. Sometimes I close my eyes and pretend it's you I'm holding.】

Frame after frame of their private mind-links exploded in my head—

Rocco, picturing Scarlett's face while we were intimate.

Rocco, mentally entwined with her while he held me.

And he even secretly mind-linking her even during our own Mate Bond ceremony.

For six years, I had been her stand-in.

Tears blurred my vision, but I forced them back.

I slammed my mental shields into place, blocking her out completely.

Enough.

This pain ends now.

"Caterina?" Rocco noticed my distress. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I said, pulling away from his embrace. "Just tired."

"Get some rest," he said gently. "I'll take you to a movie tomorrow, just like we used to."

I nodded, moving mechanically toward the window.

He was still chattering on behind me, making plans. "The day after, we can go to the beach. I've already booked the presidential suite at that seaside hotel. Remember? The one we stayed at on our first trip…"

I was nearly asleep when the bedroom door was thrown open with a violent slam.

Rocco stood in the doorway, his face, so gentle just moments before, now dark and terrifying.

He was holding a crumpled piece of paper he'd fished out of the trash.

It was the draft of my request to the Elders, covered in my scribbled notes about the procedures and reasons for removing a mate mark.

"Caterina," he said, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "Explain this. Why were you petitioning the Elders to remove our mate mark?"