Chapter 6

Leila

Josephine leaned toward Lucas, her voice a nervous flutter. "I just feel… ten billion is really a big loss for us… No, I mean, for Alpha…" Her cheeks bloomed pink, her eyes darting to the floor as if she could bury her words there.

Lucas' face darkened, his jaw tightening until I thought it might crack. The air around him shifted, sharp and electric, the way it always did when his temper stirred. Josephine sensed it too, her lips snapping shut, her hands twisting the strap of her clutch. She looked small, fragile, like a bird caught in a storm.

I kept my gaze forward, my face a mask of indifference, but my mind churned. Ten billion. The number was a wound, raw and bleeding, a testament to the cracks in Lucas' empire. He'd been unraveling for months—late nights, hushed calls, the scent of whiskey on his breath when he thought I wasn't paying attention. I was always paying attention.

A shadow moved through the crowd, smooth and deliberate, like a wolf stalking through tall grass. Caccius. His tailored suit gleamed under the chandelier's light, his smile sharp enough to cut. "Hey," he said, stopping just close enough to make Lucas's shoulders stiffen. "It seems the recent rumors are true. I heard Alpha Lucas's business has been having some difficulties lately. Can't be true, can't it? Can't even come up with a lump sum of ten billion? I don't know that Manson Hall accept mortage!"

Josephine's face flushed, then paled, her eyes wide with the realization she'd slipped. Her words had been a spark, and Caccius was the kindling, ready to burn. I felt a flicker of pity for her, but it died quickly. She'd chosen her place at Lucas' side. She was supposed to know the cost.

My thoughts snagged on another presence, a prickle at the back of my neck. If Caccius is here, Darren won't be far behind. I'd seen him earlier, his eyes lingering on me from across the room, dark and unreadable. My skin had prickled then, too, a mix of unease and something I didn't want to name.

A voice broke through, low and smooth, like velvet over a blade. "Leila Steen, it's been a long time."

I turned back. He used my maiden name. The intimacy was quite explicit. I was a bit vexed.

I turned too quickly, my heel catching the hem of my gown. The world tilted, my balance slipping, and I nearly collided with the man behind me. His hand caught my arm, strong and steady, lifting me as if I weighed nothing before setting me back on the ground. My breath hitched, and I looked up into Darren's face.

His eyes were molten, dark with a hunger that made my pulse jump. His lips curved into that infuriating, lopsided smile, the kind that promised trouble and didn't care who paid the price. Heat crept up my neck, my face burning under his gaze. I wanted to wipe that smile off his face, to claw at the arrogance in it.

Darren's attention shifted to Josephine, his voice lilting with mock curiosity. "I've heard Alpha Lucas got married. This must be Mrs. Lavoie, right?"

Josephine shrank back, her blush deepening as she stammered, "No, it's not like that…" Her hands fluttered, useless, as she tried to retreat from the spotlight Darren had thrown on her.

Before I could speak, Lucas' arm snaked around me, yanking me from Darren's grip and into his own. His hold was possessive, his fingers digging into my waist. I looked up, startled, and found him staring at Darren, his eyes cold as winter stone. "This is my wife and mate," he said, his voice low, each word a warning. "Leila Lavoie."

Darren's smile widened, a flash of teeth that didn't reach his eyes. "Ah, I saw this young lady following you everywhere and I thought she was your wife. After all, she seems to be inseparable from you, even helped you hold up the bidding paddle just now. Didn't expect her to be a secretary."

Josephine stood frozen, abandoned by Lucas' side, her face a kaleidoscope of shame and frustration. She opened her mouth, then closed it, her eyes darting between Lucas and the floor. I almost felt sorry for her -almost. Her humiliation was a mirror, reflecting the sting of my own.

Lucas turned, his voice a low growl as he addressed his Beta, Fred. "It's already very late. Please drive Miss Josephine back."

"Yes, Alpha," Fred said, his tone clipped, professional. He stepped forward, gesturing for Josephine to follow. She hesitated, her lips trembling, then turned and walked away, her heels clicking against the marble floor like a fading heartbeat.

Lucas's grip on my hand didn't loosen. His gaze swung back to Darren, cold and unyielding, a predator sizing up a rival. Darren met it with that same infuriating smile. "Since Mrs. Lavoie is already in good hands, I won't disturb her anymore," he said, his voice light but laced with challenge. "Oh, my bike has just arrived."

I glanced toward the entrance. A Harley Davidson gleamed under the moonlight, all sleek lines and polished chrome. Darren bowed, a mockery of courtesy, his eyes never leaving mine. "Mr. and Mrs. Lavoie," He slipped on his helmet, swung onto the bike, and roared off, the sound echoing like a taunt.

The crowd's attention lingered, their whispers a low hum, but Lucas didn't care. He grabbed my shoulders, his fingers biting into my skin, and steered me toward a side door. "You think this stunt will win me over?" he said, his voice tight with barely restrained fury, "You're gravely mistaken."

I wrenched myself free, my own anger flaring. "I'm not that bored," I snapped, turning to leave. But Lucas was faster, his hand closing around my arm, dragging me into a storage room tucked behind the auction hall. He shoved the door shut, the lock clicking with a finality that made my stomach twist.

The room was dim, cluttered with crates and forgotten furniture, the air thick with dust and the faint tang of metal.

"What is your relationship with the man just now?" he demanded, his voice low, dangerous.

I glared at him, my hands curling into fists. "What are you talking about? I don't even know that person. You're hurting me, let go of me."

He didn't. His grip tightened, his eyes narrowing. "I'm telling you, Leila. You are my woman. My mate. My wife. The Luna of my pack! Pay attention to yourself in front of others and don't get too close to other men, especially that one. He is dangerous."

I laughed, sharp and bitter, the sound echoing in the cramped space. "Dangerous? You brought Josephine here tonight, paraded her around like she was your mate, and you have the nerve to lecture me about my behavior? You know I'm your wife and mate, Lucas, so what's the point of humiliating me in front of everyone? You've done shameless things yourself, and now you're blaming me?"

His face went still, the kind of stillness that came before a storm. His eyes burned, a mix of anger and something darker - jealousy, maybe, though I didn't want to believe he cared enough for that. He'd always been ice, untouchable, his heart locked behind walls I'd never breached. But tonight, I saw the cracks.

I pressed on, reckless, my voice trembling with years of pent-up rage. "I know you never loved me. You married me for my name, my status, to prop up your crumbling business empire. But I'm done, Lucas. I'm tired of being your contract wife, tired of this public humiliation. So I guess this is it."

"What are you talking about?" his snarled.

I stared at him and stated, low and steady. "I, Leah Steen of the Lycan King's Pack, reject you, Lucas Lavoie of Kingfisher Pack."

The words hung between us, heavy and final. His eyes widened, shock breaking through his mask. He stepped closer, crowding me against the wall, his hands slamming against the wood on either side of my head. "What did you say?" he growled, his voice low, almost a snarl.

I lifted my chin, meeting his gaze without flinching. "You've heard me. I reject you. I want a divorce."

His breath hitched, his hands trembling where they pressed against the wall. For a moment, I thought he might break - might shout, might strike, might do something to prove he was still the Alpha, still in control.

But he didn't. He just stared, his eyes searching mine, looking for something I wasn't sure I had left to give.

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, until I turned my face away, my chest tight with the weight of what I'd done. I'd crossed a line, and there was no going back. Not now. Not ever.