Chapter 6

Caden's POV

The ballroom glittered beneath chandeliers and camera flashes, the air thick with perfume, ambition, and lies.

David stood near the edge of the crowd, swirling an expensive glass of scotch, a lazy grin stretched across his face. Beside him, Sylvia watched the scene unfold with sharp, calculating eyes—mother and son united in their satisfaction.

At the center of it all stood me.

Carrie leaned in close, her smile dazzling, her body angled perfectly for the cameras. When she pressed her lips to mine, the room erupted in flashes—paparazzi shouting, shutters clicking, the moment instantly immortalized.

I stepped back immediately.

My hand came up, firm but controlled, placing distance between us.

"Don't do that again," I warned quietly, my voice low enough that only she could hear. My wolf's authority seeped into every syllable. "I'm married."

Carrie stiffened, murmuring an apology that no one noticed—and no one cared to hear.

I didn't correct the narrative.

I never did.

Let them believe I was a heartless Alpha who paraded other women while neglecting his mate. Let the world think Adele Wayne meant nothing to me. That illusion had kept her alive longer than anyone realized.

In our world—power invited enemies. Weakness invited slaughter.

And loving a Luna openly was the fastest way to get her killed.

Even I didn't fully understand when it had happened—when my arranged mate, the quiet girl with wary blue eyes and a spine stronger than steel, had carved herself into my chest.

The thought of anyone hurting her ignited something primal inside me.

Something terrifying.

So I buried it.

Cruelty was easier than tenderness. Distance was safer than love.

David's phone suddenly buzzed.

He excused himself smoothly, slipping into a secluded corner, his expression darkening as he answered.

"Is it done?" he asked sharply.

He listened.

Then his face twisted in rage.

"You idiots," he hissed. "You had one job."

I didn't hear the rest—but Sylvia did. Her posture stiffened as David returned, leaning close to whisper urgently in her ear. Her face paled for a fraction of a second before hardening again.

She turned toward me.

"Caden," she said, urgency coating her voice. "I need to speak with you."

I frowned but followed her aside.

"A maid just called," she continued, feigning panic. "Adele hasn't returned home. She went out for a walk hours ago. This isn't like her."

The room tilted, lights dimming as if someone was sucking them with a giant straw. My wolf surged forward, claws scraping against my ribs––I nearly exploded.

"What?" I growled.

Jealousy flared instinctively—an ugly, reflexive thought—but it was drowned instantly by something far worse.

Fear.

Without another word, I turned and strode out of the ballroom. My men followed, sensing the shift in my energy.

I called her.

Again.

And again.

No answer.

When I reached the mansion, dread settled deep in my gut. Her phone lay abandoned on the kitchen counter. The house was silent. Too silent for me to stay sane.

"She hasn't been home all evening," the servants said, eyes downcast—reciting the lie Sylvia had fed them. I knew it wasn't true, and my stepmother was the only one who could make them lie to me. 

I rushed to our bedroom.

Everything was untouched. Her clothes. Her jewelry. Her cards. All there.

My chest tightened painfully.

Syrus entered behind me, concern etched across his face. "Alpha? What's wrong?"

"Adele is missing," I said hoarsely.

"She probably went for a walk, she does that some—"

"No." My voice broke into another growl. "She wouldn't leave everything like this."

Then, the truth crashed into me with brutal clarity.

"She ran," I whispered.

And for the first time in my life, fear—not of enemies, not of death—wrapped its claws around my heart.

Because the world I'd tried to protect her from had finally chased her away. And I didn't know if I'd ever find her again.

"What nonsense are you talking about, Caden?"

Syrus's voice cut through the suffocating silence of my bedroom, sharp and unafraid. Only he dared speak to me like that—only my Beta, my sworn brother, the man who had stood at my side since blood and oath had bound us together.

Anyone else would already be on their knees.

I glared at him, my wolf restless beneath my skin, claws scraping against bone. "She ran," I snarled. "Adele took advantage of my absence and disappeared. Just like I said—she was after my wealth all along."

Syrus's jaw tightened. He had heard every bitter word I'd ever spoken about my mate. Every accusation. Every fight echoing through these walls. He knew how often I'd claimed Adele was unfaithful, greedy, false.

And yet, I knew he had never believed me.

"You're lying to yourself," he said coldly. "And you know it."

He crossed the room and yanked open the wardrobe. Adele's clothes hung untouched, arranged exactly as she had left them. He opened drawer after drawer—jewelry glittering in the low light, artifacts from every continent, each piece a symbol of my power and my negligence.

"If she were a gold digger," Syrus said harshly, "she would've stripped this place bare."

He held up one of the black cards I'd given her—limitless, unchecked.

"She left everything," he continued. "Including you."

My chest tightened painfully.

"Then why leave?" I snapped. "What reason would she have?"

Syrus exhaled sharply and turned on the television. The screen lit up with flashing headlines.

ALPHA CADEN WAYNE CAUGHT KISSING FAMOUS MODEL CARRIE CHANNING

The footage replayed endlessly—Carrie's lips on mine, the way the angle made it look as though I had pulled her closer instead of pushing her away.

"No wife would endure this," Syrus said quietly. "Not even a human one. And Adele is neither weak nor foolish."

"I didn't cheat," I whispered, disbelief cracking my voice. "I never touched her willingly."

"That's what you know," Syrus shot back. "But what did she see? You parading other women. You never defending her. Never claiming her publicly as your mate. You never marking her."

He turned to face me fully, eyes blazing. "She loved you, Caden. That's why she left."

The words struck harder than any blade.

Loved me.

My legs gave out, and I collapsed onto the edge of the bed. Memories surged violently—Adele's quiet obedience, her flinches, the way her eyes dimmed every time I humiliated her in public.

In the end, I played the role so well that I had mistaken her silence for indifference. I had mistaken her pain for greed. I had somehow convinced myself that she indeed was a horrible person. 

"She didn't want your money," Syrus continued, voice softer now. "She wanted you. And you broke her."

My hands trembled.

"What have I done…?" I whispered.

Regret—a foreign, poisonous emotion—wrapped around my heart. My wolf howled in anguish, recognizing too late the loss of his true mate.

Syrus placed a firm hand on my shoulder. "You still have time. Find her. Bring her back. Before someone else does."

Fear roared to life inside me.

I had enemies—packs, syndicates, monsters waiting for weakness.

"That's why I hid her," I said hoarsely, now continuing my thoughts aloud. "I never brought her to gatherings. I kept her away from the world to protect her."

And yet, I had driven her straight into danger.

The news abruptly shifted.

"Breaking news," the anchor said gravely. "A private aircraft en route to New York has crashed. There are no survivors."

My phone rang, and I answered without thinking.

"Alpha," my associate said urgently. "We tracked Luna Wayne. She boarded Flight 7A… to New York."

The room spun violently, making me dizzy and light-headed.

The flight number burned into my vision as it appeared on the television screen.

The same one. That was the same plane that had just crashed. 

"No," I breathed.

The word tore from my chest as a raw, animal scream. "NO—THAT'S NOT TRUE!"

Then, I bolted.

I don't remember leaving the house. Don't remember the drive. I only remember pain—howling, suffocating pain—as I ran through the airport like a madman.

Tears blurred my vision.

When my parents were slaughtered, I didn't cry.

When my pack bled in war, I didn't cry.

But the thought of Adele—my mate—dying believing I never loved her—

It shattered me.

I fell to my knees, broken, the Alpha reduced to a grieving, shattered wolf. What have I done?

***

At the Turin airport, Adele stood quietly at the gate.

An elderly couple approached her, desperation lining their faces. They begged her to exchange tickets—their great-granddaughter had just been born, and only one direct flight remained.

"Of course," Adele flashed them a friendly smile, handing over her ticket. "Happy birthday to your granddaughter."

She changed the ticket without giving it a second thought. She would have given an entire world to have her family see her child as well. She understood it. 

So in the end, she boarded a different plane.