CHAPTER 13

Audrey’s POV

The door clicked shut behind the maid, and I was left alone in the VIP guest suite.

I didn’t know what I expected...a some small, spare room in the farthest corner of the manor? A cold bed and silence? Maybe something that screamed “you don’t belong here”?

But this…

This was excessive.

The room was large, it was twice the size of the one I had in Michael’s penthouse. Cream-colored walls, gold-framed art, velvet curtains that swayed slightly from the breeze rolling in through the balcony doors. A chandelier sparkled above my head. There was even a fireplace, though it sat unlit. A fully stocked bookcase lined one wall, and a vanity stood near the walk-in closet like it was meant for royalty.

I stepped forward carefully, still favoring my injured ankle.

There was no denying it: the room was beautiful.

But it didn’t feel like mine.

I ran my fingers across the velvet duvet cover, as if the texture could distract me from the heaviness in my chest.

Just a guest.

The words rang louder than Lana’s insult. Michael’s voice had been calm, even protective but in front of everyone else, I was nothing more than a temporary presence. A guest in his home. An injured girl he’d saved.

I shouldn’t have expected more, but my wolf whimpered inside me anyway, curling into herself like a child rejected.

I walked toward the balcony and pushed the doors open. The air was fresh, scented with pine and rain. The view stretched over the eastern training grounds, where young wolves were sparring in the distance.

I stood there for a long while, arms folded over my chest, trying to swallow the lump forming in my throat.

A soft knock came at the door.

I turned as it opened, and my breath hitched.

Michael stood there, still dressed in his dark slacks and dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, jaw tight. His eyes locked on mine, and for a moment, neither of us said anything.

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

I nodded. “The room’s… beautiful.”

He stepped inside, letting the door close behind him.

“I wanted you here because it’s safe,” he said. “Not because I want to keep you hidden.”

I didn’t say anything. My fingers curled tighter into the fabric of my sweater.

“I know what Lana said. And what my father said. But that’s not what I think. That’s not what I feel.”

I still said nothing.

He moved closer.

“I’m not in love with Lana,” he said. “I never have been. That whole engagement… it was arranged. Council politics. Nothing real.”

I turned away, looking out the window again.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Alpha,” I said, my voice calm but distant. “I understand. You have a duty. A reputation. And I’m just… a complication.”

He flinched. I didn’t have to see his face to know it.

“You’re not a complication,” he said.

I turned back to him slowly. “Then what am I?”

His mouth opened then closed again. Like even he didn’t have the words.

“You said I’m safe here,” I continued, “and I believe you. I’m grateful. But that’s all I need from you. I don’t need clarity or promises or explanations. I know where we stand.”

He stared at me for a long moment, the muscle in his jaw ticking.

“You don’t have to call me Alpha,” he said finally. “Just call me Michael.”

“I’d rather not,” I replied politely.

He blinked. “Why?”

“Because it’s easier that way.”

His eyes darkened, a storm brewing behind them. “Easier for who?”

“For me.”

I didn’t say the rest: ‘Because calling you by your name makes it harder to remember I don’t mean anything to you here. Because it makes me feel like I matter. And I don’t not really’.

He sighed, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck like he was trying to find patience he didn’t have.

“I didn’t mean for today to happen like that,” he said. “Lana shouldn’t have spoken to you that way. My father shouldn’t have called you a stray.”

“I’ve heard worse,” I said.

“That doesn’t make it okay.”

“I didn’t say it did.”

Another silence stretched between us.

I knew he was trying. I knew he wanted to ease the sting left by those words, but no amount of apologies could erase the fact that I’d been reminded loudly and clearly that I didn’t belong in this world.

He stepped closer, and for a second, I thought he was going to take my hand. But he didn’t. His fingers hovered in the air, then dropped to his side.

“I’m trying to protect you,” he said softly.

“I know.” I said as I looked up at him.

And I did.

But sometimes even protection could feel like a cage.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out with a low sigh.

“Ryan,” he muttered.

He answered and turned away slightly, muttering something I couldn’t hear.

After a moment, he ended the call and turned back toward me. “I have to handle something.”

“Of course,” I said.

He paused at the door. “I’ll come see you later.”

I nodded.

But I didn’t say goodbye.

And neither did he.

When the door closed again, the silence felt colder than before.

And I wondered not for the first time if being safe in this world was going to cost me more than being broken ever did.

I sat on the edge of the bed long after the door shut behind him.

The silence was deafening.

Michael’s scent still lingered faintly in the room rich, warm, and unmistakable. It clung to the air, to the cushions, to me. I hated how much comfort it gave me… how easily my body responded to it even as my heart tightened.

I slowly lay back on the bed, sinking into the mattress, trying to relax, but every inch of me was wired. My ankle ached, but that pain felt distant irrelevant compared to what churned inside me.

Call me Michael.

The words kept replaying in my mind.

I could still see the way he looked at me when I said no. I had never seen that much emotion on his face before. Not when he was angry. Not even when he was fighting off that woman Lana.

There was something else behind his eyes.

Hurt.

And maybe… disappointment.

But what did he expect from me? I’d been tossed aside, insulted, and then publicly minimized all within the span of an hour. The people who were supposed to respect him the people he wanted to respect me saw me as less than nothing. A stray. A nobody.

It didn’t matter that he’d saved me. Or that he hadn’t left my side when I was unconscious. It didn’t matter that he’d carried me like I meant something, defended me even.

Because at the end of the day, he’d still introduced me as “just a guest.”

I couldn’t blame him.

Not really.

What else could he say? That I was a broken rogue who’d run into his territory bleeding and traumatized? That he didn’t know why he cared, only that something in him wouldn’t let me go?

That he didn’t love Lana but still hadn’t picked me?

Tears welled up in my eyes before I could stop them. I sat up sharply, trying to blink them away, but my chest heaved with a sound that ripped through the quiet room.

The first sob escaped before I even realized I was crying.

Then another.

And another.

I pressed my hands to my mouth to muffle the sound, but it didn’t help. The sobs just got louder, messier, until I was curled on the edge of the massive bed with my knees pulled up, crying like a child.

Not because of what Lana said.

Not even because of Daniel.

But because of the way Michael had tried to explain… and the way I hadn’t let him.

I had pushed him away.

Because deep down, I didn’t believe I deserved more than the label “guest.”

Because the idea of getting attached really attached terrified me.

Because if I called him Michael… it would feel real.

And if it was real, it could break me.

My tears soaked the pillow. My hands trembled. My wolf, Lyla, whimpered inside me quiet and hurting, curling further into herself with every tear that fell.

I cried until my body felt empty.

And eventually, exhaustion dragged me under.

Still fully dressed, still broken open inside…

I cried myself to sleep.