CHAPTER 5

Clara’s POV

Damien’s grip on my wrist felt like a band of scorching iron.

I pulled back with all my strength, but he did not budge an inch. He stood over me in the dark kitchen, dressed in black pants and a dark shirt, his chest heaving with silent fury.

"Answer me, Clara," Damien whispered, his voice dropping into a dangerous growl. "Why are you sneaking out of this house at two in the morning with a packed bag?"

"Let go of me, Damien," I said, keeping my voice low so we did not wake anyone upstairs. "It is none of your business what I do."

"It is my business when my father's stepdaughter tries to run away in the middle of the night," he said, stepping closer until his broad chest pressed against my shoulder. "The forest outside is full of rogue wolves and border patrols. You are a weak Omega. You will not survive ten miles out there alone."

"I would rather take my chances with rogues than stay another day under this roof with you," I hissed, glaring straight into his golden eyes.

Damien flinched slightly, his jaw clenching tight. He grabbed my other arm and pushed me back against the kitchen counter, trapping me between his muscular body and the cold granite.

"Is this about what happened five weeks ago?" he asked, his voice rough. "Is this because I told you to keep quiet about that night?"

"You called me a filthy mistake, Damien," I said, my voice shaking with raw hurt. "You stood in my bedroom and told me that if I said a single word, you would make sure your father threw my mother and me out into the wasteland. You have your perfect fated mate upstairs. You have your alliance with the Redmoor Pack. I am doing you a favor by disappearing."

"I never told you to run away into the dark," Damien growled, his face dipping down until his warm breath ghosted over my lips. "I told you to be smart. I told you to stay in your lane so the elders would not tear our family apart."

"I do not have a lane here anymore," I whispered, fighting the sudden urge to lean into his heat. Even now, after all his cruelty, my body still remembered the way he had filled me on those white sheets. "Let me go. Please."

"No," Damien said bluntly, his fingers tightening around my wrists. "You are not leaving this pack. I will not allow it."

"You do not own me," I said.

"You live on my land, Clara. You eat at my table," Damien murmured, his golden eyes glowing with a dark, possessive hunger that made my pulse race. "Until my father says otherwise, you belong to the Silverthorn Pack. You belong where I can see you."

"Your mate is sleeping in the guest suite on the third floor," I said, throwing the truth right in his face. "If she walks down these stairs and sees you pinning me against the counter, your precious alliance is dead."

Damien froze. His eyes flickered with a sudden conflict, his wolf battling with his duty as the future Alpha.

Right at that second, the radio on his belt let out a sharp static crackle.

"Alpha heir Damien, report to the eastern perimeter gate immediately," a guard's voice sounded through the speaker. "We have spotted rogue movement near the river."

Damien glanced down at the radio on his hip for a split second.

That single second was all I needed.

I brought my knee up hard between his legs. Damien let out a pained grunt, his grip loosening as he instinctively bent forward. 

I shoved him back with all the adrenaline surging through my veins, grabbed my duffel bag from the floor, and yanked the kitchen door wide open.

"Clara, stop!" Damien roared, his voice echoing through the dark mansion.

I did not look back. I bolted through the door into the freezing night, sprinting down the stone path toward the thick line of trees at the edge of the estate.

Rain began to pour from the sky in heavy sheets, soaking my clothes and stinging my eyes. I ran through the dark woods, jumping over fallen logs and pushing through sharp branches that tore at my skin.

Behind me, a terrifying, guttural wolf howl tore through the night sky, rattling the very ground beneath my boots. 

It was Damien's wolf. Pure, furious, and hunting.

I wrapped one arm tightly around my flat stomach, protecting the tiny life growing inside me. 

"I will keep you safe," I whispered through my gasping breaths. "I promise."

I reached the silver border river where the pack territory ended and human land began. I plunged into the freezing, rushing water, wading across to mask my scent completely. I dragged myself up the muddy bank on the other side, ran to the nearby highway, and jumped onto the first human bus heading south toward the capital city.

I left behind my home, my mother, and the only man I had ever loved.

Five years passed.

Five long, relentless years of building a completely new life from the ashes of the girl I used to be.

I was no longer Clara, the fragile Omega stepsister hiding in the shadows of the Sterling estate. I was Valerie Vance, the founder and chief executive of Vance Global Logistics, one of the fastest-growing shipping empires in the northern territory. 

I had built my company with my own blood, sweat, and sleepless nights. I had done it all to provide a safe, luxurious life for my four-year-old daughter, Mia. 

Mia had my dark wavy hair, but she carried her father's striking, golden eyes. She was my entire world, and no one in the werewolf packs knew she existed.

On a rainy Monday morning, I walked through the grand marble lobby of the Vance Tower in the heart of the city. I was dressed in a tailored crimson business suit, high heels clicking with steady confidence across the polished floor. 

I had a crucial meeting scheduled on the fiftieth floor to sign a multi-billion-dollar logistics contract with an anonymous northern conglomerate that had recently expanded into the city.

I stepped into the private executive elevator and pressed the button for the top floor. 

The heavy steel doors began to slide shut.

Just before the doors could meet, a large, powerful hand reached in and caught the edge of the metal, stopping the elevator in its tracks.

The doors slid back open.

A tall, broad-shouldered man stepped into the small space, shaking the rain from his dark hair. He wore an expensive bespoke charcoal suit that hugged his massive, muscular frame. A heavy, intoxicating scent of cedarwood, dark smoke, and raw Alpha power instantly flooded the enclosed elevator.

My breath stopped dead in my throat. My blood turned to liquid ice.

Damien Sterling turned around, adjusted his silk tie, and raised his head.

His glowing golden eyes locked directly onto mine.