Connor’s POV“…What did they do to you, Aria?” I muttered, asking no one in particular.Dorothy let out a shriek as I doubled over, still gripping myself in breathless pain. She darted to my side, her voice breaking into frantic sobs.“Connor! Oh my god—Connor!” “You lunatic!” she cried, eyes darting between me and Ivy. “You’re bleeding. Are you bleeding? Why would she do something so wicked?”“I’m fine,” I grunted, slapping her hand away. Still breathless.“No, you’re not!” she wailed. “Your… man parts! She kicked our future bloodline! That’s not fine!”Our what now?She turned sharply, wild eyes locking onto Ivy. “Why?! What kind of monster are you?!”But Ivy just stood there, her hands balled into fists, her jaw tight, eyes flickering with something unreadable—anger? Guilt? Triumph?Mr. Ryland scoffed from behind them, folding his arms. “That’s exactly what he gets,” he said coldly. “Coming into my house, acting like some street hero. Thought he could play smart and hijack my serv
Connor’s POVI pulled Mr. Ryland up by the collar. He slapped my hand away, nearly stumbling again, but I held him, keeping my voice low, steady—barely.“There’s a reasonable explanation,” I said.The words dropped like a stone into a lake. Everything went still.No one spoke.No one breathed.Even the guards, half-raised guns and shocked expressions frozen in place, waited.Ryland’s jaw flexed. “It better be good enough to keep me from pressing charges,” he growled, straightening his blazer. “Because as far as I’m concerned, you just assaulted a state official. And I will have you arrested.”Dorothy’s face was streaked with mascara and fury, still cradling her cheek like the pain was fresh. She snapped, “What the hell is wrong with you, Connor?! What came over you?!”Instinct.That’s what it was.But I hesitated.How do I say it?She’s my mate.No. Rejected. Broken. Lost. Whatever she is now… how do I explain this to humans?I cleared my throat. “The truth is… she’s family.”A gasp r
Connor’s POVI shot up with such force the dining table nearly flipped, glasses clinking violently, a knife clattering to the floor. The guests yelped. My chair skidded halfway across the marble.“Connor?” Dorothy's voice rang, half-laugh, half-concern.“Mr Thompson—what’s wrong?” Ryland rose slowly, face drawn with polite alarm.But their voices—those useless, irrelevant sounds—faded into fog.I was already moving.Fast.Too fast.Stupid, Connor. Not human. Don’t blow it. Zik hissed at me, but I didn’t care.Not now.I sprinted past the table, down the corridor where the maids had exited. My shoes slammed the polished floors, echoing like gunshots in the hall.“Connor!” Dorothy’s heels clicked behind me. “What’s going on?! What are you—someone stop him!”Didn’t matter.None of it mattered.All that mattered was her.I tore past three maids in uniform, all squealing as I pushed them aside.Then I saw her.Ivy.Her back to me, carrying a tray like it weighed a thousand pounds.My hand
Connor’s POVMorning came cold and colorless.I hadn’t slept. Not really. Just like every night since Ivy vanished, rest was something that was teased but never delivered—like a mirage in the desert. Guilt clung to me like a second skin. I could function through the day, wear the face, smile when needed. But those hours between midnight and dawn? That’s when regret slithered in. Whispering all the things I should’ve done, all the ways I failed her.So when the knock came—sharp, polite—I was already dressed, fixing the last cufflink on my charcoal suit. The maid poked her head in, eyes low, voice soft.“Mr. Thompson, Mr. Ryland is waiting downstairs.”I didn’t even look up. “Thanks,” I muttered, grabbing my phone and leaving the room without a backward glance.They’d tried earlier to coax me to breakfast. I hadn’t opened the door. Just said flatly, “I don’t do breakfast.”I descended the marble stairs like I’d done it a hundred times before, finding Ryland standing beneath one of tho
Connor's breath caught.Something flickered across the edge of his senses—fast, familiar, confusing. It was there, then gone before Zik could even sink his teeth into the scent.What was that?He spun mentally, scanning for the source—but the disturbance evaporated, leaving only an aftertaste of shadow and silence.“Connor?” Dorothy's hand tugged his arm, soft and coaxing. “Come inside. It’s too hot out here.”Still on edge, he let her lead him into the mansion. His instincts screamed, but logic shoved them down. He needed this deal. He needed to keep his focus. Still, his mind kept circling that strange sensation.The mansion opened up before them—gilded edges, grand staircase, portraits in thick golden frames. It was the kind of place people described as "elegant" or "tasteful." But to Connor, it just felt like a performance. All shine, no soul.He didn’t care about hand-carved panels or imported Italian marble. He just wanted to get this over with and go back to his pack—back to th
Connor stood at the edge of the wreckage he'd just left behind—Elizabeth sobbing, Tom bloodied and unconscious, warriors scrambling to obey his orders—and for once, he didn't feel better after the rage passed. He just felt… hollow.His mind spiraled in a storm of furious flashbacks. Every memory of Ivy—every bruise she hid behind a forced smile, every cold shoulder she received—hit him like a punch to the gut. She had been rejected by everyone… including him.She carried it all alone. The guilt. The pain. The constant abuse. Hell, she’d been treated like the pack’s personal maid since she was a child, stripped of dignity and purpose before she even had a chance to find it.And for what? Because of that manipulative bitch, Lila?Connor’s breath caught in his throat. Fury licked at the edges of his control like wildfire. Zik snarled beneath the surface, ready to tear through bone and lie altogether.A growl echoed inside him—low, deep, angry."This is your fault," his wolf snarled. "You