Chapter 9

Third Person's POV

Kelsey's face contorted in surprise. Patience had never shared these achievements with him.

At this moment, he felt a sudden unfamiliarity with the mate he had spent three years with.

His wolf ached with the sense of alienation, and the damaged mating bond throbbed faintly.

"Professor Malcolm, is this your student?" A cold, clear male voice suddenly cut through the air, carrying an imposing Alpha aura that made all the werewolves present instinctively restrain themselves.

"Yes," Professor Malcolm began the introductions. "This is my student, Patience. Patience, this is Mr. Cyrus Gross from the Gross Group."

At the mention of "Cyrus Gross," everyone's demeanor shifted instantly.

The Alpha of the Mandala Pack had recently passed away, and Cyrus was his successor.

Not only had he inherited the mantle of the Mandala Pack's Alpha, but he had also taken over the Gross Group.

Eager anticipation immediately lit up the crowd—making any connection with Cyrus could reap significant benefits.

"Ms. Frost, a pleasure to meet you," Cyrus said politely, extending his hand. His Alpha aura expanded steadily.

As his gaze fell on Patience, his pupils contracted almost imperceptibly.

The scent of rain-kissed grass and white roses emanating from this she-wolf stirred a faint, primal ripple within him.

Patience recognized Cyrus as the man she had encountered the other day.

Without the umbrella obscuring his features, his face was now starkly visible.

His golden hair was neatly combed back, revealing a broad forehead.

His nose was sharp and straight, and beneath his thick eyebrows lay deep-set eyes like a silent, fathomless sea, with faintly visible vertical pupils in his human form.

Though his expression was gentle, his aura was like fire wrapped in ice—warm yet intimidating.

"Mr. Gross, nice to meet you," Patience said, extending her hand for a brief shake.

The moment their fingertips touched, her inner wolf lifted its head, a strange sigh rising in her throat.

The scent was intoxicating, evoking a deep sense of belonging.

The handshake was fleeting, but both caught the unusual pheromones in the air.

Cyrus's fingers curled slightly at his side, his wolf growling softly within.

Eager to engage with Cyrus, others began approaching, their mixed pheromones causing him to wrinkle his brow.

"Professor Malcolm, let's move to our room," Cyrus suggested.

The professor agreed and, after a few words with Patience, continued on with Cyrus.

Kelsey approached Patience, his tone edged with irritation. "You entered Thornmoon Military Academy with a perfect score and graduated from there? Why did you never mention it to me?"

Patience looked at him coolly—because he had never asked.

"Does it matter?" she countered.

Before Kelsey could respond, a deafening gunshot erupted in the restaurant.

To the werewolves' heightened senses, it was like a thunderclap, instantly triggering primal instincts.

Someone drew a gun, the muzzle pointed straight at Cyrus!

Screams erupted in panic, pheromones colliding chaotically.

In that moment, Patience was roughly shoved aside, nearly thrown off balance.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kelsey swiftly leap to shield Hazel, agilely hiding her behind a screen.

It was Kelsey who had pushed her—during the crisis, he had chosen to save Hazel over her, his supposed mate,

A sharp pain pierced Patience's chest.

The already fragile mating bond tore further, the tenuous connection between her and Kelsey fading even more.

An icy coldness spread through her veins.

A stray bullet hurtled toward her. Her pupils narrowed into sharp vertical slits.

In a flash, her right hand shot up—bones crackling as her nails shot out into three-inch silver-gray claws. With a ferocious swipe, she deflected the bullet.

The metallic "clang!" echoed as the bullet sparked against her claw.

The sudden burst of her aura froze the chaos for a moment.

Kelsey glanced at her, guilt flickering across his face, and he too felt the sharp sting from the damaged bond.

When the gunshot rang out, his sole instinct had been to protect Hazel. Only after pushing Patience away did he realize what he had done.

He planned to appease her later—he knew Patience was easy to placate, readily forgiving past wrongs with a few kind words.

But the next second, his blood froze.

He saw Patience's lips move, clear and silent. "I, Patience Frost, reject you, Kelsey Hoffman."

An excruciating pain seared through his heart.

"What's wrong?" Hazel, safe in his arms, asked with concern.

"N-nothing..." he murmured, still in shock.

Patience rejecting him? He must have misseen it.