Did you truly know me?

CLARA

The next morning came too soon and not soon enough. I had barely slept, my mind racing with plans and possibilities. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Sage’s face, Damien’s smile, the pack members who had once called me worthless now bowing and scraping before beautiful Liora.

A soft knock at the door interrupted my thoughts.

“Liora?” Damien’s voice was gentle, cautious. “We need to leave for the pack house soon. Are you awake?”

I stayed where I was, listening to the sound of his breathing through the door. The same voice that had shattered Clara Wren’s world was now speaking to me with such careful tenderness. It made something twist painfully in my chest, whether from rage or something else, I couldn’t tell.

“Just give me a few minutes,” I called back, making sure my voice sounded sleepy and vulnerable. “I’m almost ready.”

“Take your time,” he said, and I could hear him shifting his weight outside the door. “Do you need anything? Clothes maybe? I know we left in such a rush yesterday…”

Perfect. This was exactly the opening I needed.

“Actually, yes,” I said, letting a hint of uncertainty creep into my voice. “I need something to wear. Something that will make the right impression at the pack house.” I paused, then added with deliberate casualness, “Something revealing and sexy.”

The silence that followed was so complete I wondered if he’d walked away. When he finally spoke, his voice sounded strained, almost strangled.

“I’ll… I’ll see what I can find for you.”

I pressed my ear to the door and heard his footsteps retreat quickly down the hallway. The hesitation in his voice had been delicious – the sound of a man trying to be honorable while his wife asked him to dress her like a temptress. Good. Let him be uncomfortable. Let him struggle with wanting me while trying to maintain his gentleman’s facade.

I spent the waiting time studying my reflection in the bathroom mirror, marveling again at what I’d become. Liora Rivers was everything Clara Wren had never been – beautiful, confident, powerful. My hair fell in perfect waves down my back. My skin was flawless. My body was a work of art that could bring men to their knees.

And soon, it would bring Damien Storm to his.

Twenty minutes later, another soft knock came at the door.

“I have something for you,” Damien said, his voice carefully neutral.

I opened the door just enough to reach out, making sure to time it perfectly so my fingers would brush against his hand as I took the clothes from him. The contact sent an electric jolt through both of us – I felt him tense, heard his sharp intake of breath.

“Thank you,” I whispered, letting my voice sound breathless and intimate. “You’re so good to me, Damien.”

I started to close the door, then paused and looked up at him through my lashes. “Goodbye for now.”

The door closed with a soft click, and I heard him stand there for a long moment before finally walking away. I could practically feel the frustrated desire radiating through him.

I held up what he’d brought me and had to bite back a laugh. It was perfect – a fitted red dress that would hug every curve of my new body, with a neckline that dipped scandalously low and a hem that barely covered my thighs. The fabric was expensive, clearly something meant for special occasions. He’d probably agonized over choosing it, knowing exactly what kind of reaction it would provoke.

When I slipped it on, the transformation was complete. The woman in the mirror looked like sin itself – dangerous, beautiful, absolutely impossible to ignore. Every eye in the pack house would be on me. Every man would want me. Every woman would hate me.

Especially Sage.

I opened my door and stepped into the hallway, ready to find Damien and begin the next phase of my revenge. Instead, I found Sage waiting right outside my room, her arms crossed and her perfect face twisted with barely controlled rage.

She looked me up and down with undisguised hatred, taking in every inch of the red dress, every curve it revealed. Her hands were clenched into fists at her sides, and for a moment I thought she might actually attack me right there in the hallway.

“You slut,” she hissed, her voice low and venomous. “Do you think wearing that trashy dress makes you special? Do you think it makes you worthy of him?”

I looked at her calmly, drinking in her fury like fine wine. This was even better than I’d hoped. Sage was already losing control, already showing her true colors.

“Is there something you need, Sage?” I asked sweetly, as if she hadn’t just called me a whore.

Her face went even redder. “I know what you are. I know what you’re trying to do. And I’m going to make your life a living hell in the pack house. Every day, every hour, I’m going to make you regret ever setting foot in our territory.”

I let my lips curve into a slow, cold smile. “You’re welcome to try. But you might want to make sure Damien’s love is still with you first.” I paused, tilting my head like I was considering something. “Oh wait. It never was, was it?”

The words hit her like a physical blow. Her face went white, then red, then white again as the full impact sank in. She was trembling now, whether with rage or humiliation I couldn’t tell.

“You bitch,” she snarled, and lunged forward.

Her hands caught my wrist, her nails digging into my skin hard enough to draw blood. The pain was sharp and sudden, but what came after it was something else entirely – a cold, black rage that rose up from some deep place inside me.

That was her mistake.

I pulled back my free hand and slapped her across the face with every ounce of strength I possessed. The sound echoed through the hallway like a gunshot, sharp and violent in the morning quiet. Sage stumbled backward from the force of it, lost her balance, and crashed to the floor.

She lay there for a moment, stunned, her hand pressed to her cheek where a red handprint was already forming. When she looked up at me, her eyes were wide with shock and something I’d never seen in them before – fear.

“Never,” I said, my voice deadly quiet and calm, “touch me again. If you do, I promise you I will bring hell to earth in your life. Do you understand me?”

She opened her mouth like she wanted to say something, but no words came out. For the first time in her perfect, privileged life, Sage had been put in her place. And she knew it.

I stepped carefully over her prone form and walked toward the stairs, my heels clicking against the floor like a countdown to judgment day.

Damien was waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs, leaning against his car with his phone in his hand. When he heard me coming, he looked up and his expression shifted from casual to something much more complicated.

His eyes traveled down my body slowly, taking in every inch of the red dress, every curve it revealed and accentuated. I watched him swallow hard, watched his pupils dilate with want. When he finally dragged his gaze back up to my face, there was heat in his eyes that made my stomach flutter despite everything.

“What took so long?” he asked, his voice slightly hoarse.

“I had to take care of something,” I said simply, not bothering to elaborate.

He nodded and moved to open the passenger door for me, ever the gentleman. But then he stopped, his hand frozen on the handle, and turned to look at me with troubled eyes.

“Liora,” he said slowly, carefully, like he was testing each word before he spoke it. “Are you okay? You seem… different today.”

My heart skipped a beat. “Different how?”

He was quiet for a long moment, studying my face like he was looking for something. Finally, after what felt like forever, he asked the question I’d been dreading since I woke up married to him.

“Do you truly know me?”