Chapter 13: Alone With Him

Ruby’s Point of View

I didn’t understand it.

No matter what I did,

it was wrong.

Luna Lorraine looked at me like I didn’t belong here.

Like I shouldn’t even exist.

And I didn’t know why.

“Why do you hate me so much?” I asked.

My voice broke.

“Why don’t you like me? What did I do?”

The words came out messy. Barely held together.

First Eugene.

Now his mother.

It felt like neither of them saw me as someone who could be hurt.

Like my feelings didn’t matter.

Like I was nothing.

But Luna Lorraine didn’t soften.

She scoffed.

Cold. Disgusted.

She had never liked me.

Not since Eugene told her in his letter,

that I was carrying his child.

She didn’t want me here.

Never did.

Her solution had been simple.

Pay me.

Send me away.

Let me raise the baby alone while they provided from a distance.

Out of sight.

Out of the pack.

Because she only wanted one future Luna.

Irene.

The girl she had raised.

The girl she had chosen.

Not me.

Never me.

But Eugene brought me back anyway.

Not because he wanted me.

Because of guilt.

Because of the baby.

Because he couldn’t leave his child outside the pack.

And when he realized what he had risked,

what he was about to lose,

he panicked.

Too late.

“I hate you,” Luna Lorraine said.

Her voice was quiet.

Sharp.

“There’s nothing wrong with you. I simply hate you.”

Her eyes dropped to my stomach.

“And your existence alone is enough reason.”

My chest tightened.

“I hope the baby is nothing like you,” she added. “Something… better.”

The words cut deeper than a slap.

“It was your son who came to me first!” I shouted.

My voice rose,

but the music swallowed it.

The laughter.

The noise.

No one heard me.

No one cared.

Except her.

And that made it worse.

Her expression snapped.

Her hand moved before I could react,

slap.

The sound rang in my ears.

“Slut,” she hissed.

Her voice was filled with something dark.

Something ugly.

“Give birth to the baby and leave this pack. You’re not welcome here.”

She raised her hand again,

then stopped.

Her gaze dropped to my stomach.

A flicker of restraint passed through her eyes.

The baby.

Her grandchild.

Even if she hated me,

she wouldn’t risk it.

I pressed my hand to my cheek.

It stung.

Hot.

I held back my tears, stepping back slowly.

Careful.

Afraid she might hit me again.

I lowered my head as she walked away.

All I ever wanted…

was a family.

Something real.

But even that felt impossible.

The father of my child didn’t want me.

Not really.

Eugene didn’t even pretend anymore.

Not after he realized he might lose Irene.

I wiped my tears quickly.

Roughly.

There was no point staying here.

Not at this party.

Not in a place where I didn’t belong.

So I turned,

and left.

The peace treaty was signed without trouble.

Seven alphas.

Smiling.

Talking like everything was fine.

Even with all the blood that had been lost during the war.

They chose to ignore it.

For now.

To look forward.

To pretend things were better.

After a while, one of them stood.

Alpha Arnold.

“If there’s nothing else, I’ll take my leave,” he said, a polite smile on his face. “I’d rather enjoy the party than sit through more of this.”

His tone was light.

But his eyes said something else.

He was bored.

And he wasn’t even trying to hide it.

“Yes, please. Enjoy the party. After all, it’s for you,” Alpha Dave said, smiling as if everything was perfectly fine.

Hypocrite.

Arnold gave a polite nod, then turned and walked out.

The moment the door closed behind him,

he exhaled.

Long.

Dramatic.

“I’m going to die if I stay there any longer,” he muttered.

His tone was light, almost playful.

But the irritation was clear.

He glanced around the corridor, his expression shifting.

Thinking.

Searching.

“Irene…”

Her name slipped under his breath.

She had looked unsteady earlier.

A little drunk.

He clicked his tongue softly.

A faint smile touched his lips.

He had meant for her to relax.

To forget, even for a moment.

To stop drowning in thoughts about that mate of hers.

But he hadn’t expected her to be that easy to affect.

One glass,

and her face had already turned red.

“She’s worse than I thought,” he murmured.

There was amusement in his voice.

And something else.

Something harder to name.

He started walking down the corridor, slow and unhurried.

“Should I even go back?” he muttered. “This party is unbearable.”

Then,

he paused.

A scent.

Faint.

But familiar.

His eyes sharpened.

A lycan’s senses didn’t miss things like that.

Not easily.

Not when he was paying attention.

He followed it.

Step by step.

The trail was weak,

but enough.

Enough to lead him away from the noise.

Away from the laughter.

Into the quiet part of the pack house.

It didn’t take long.

Soon,

he stopped in front of a closed door.

An empty guest room.

He pushed it open.

Slowly.

Inside,

she was there.

Irene.

Asleep.

Peaceful.

Unaware.

Her hair spread across the pillow.

Her breathing soft.

Her guard completely down.

For a moment,

he just stood there.

Watching.

Then a slow smile formed on his lips.

“Looks like I got lucky,” he said quietly.

And with that,

he stepped inside

and closed the door behind him.

Irene’s POINT OF VIEW

Irene’s Point of View

My head felt like it was going to split open.

The pain throbbed behind my eyes.

Sharp.

Unbearable.

My stomach turned, and I curled into myself, trying to hold it in.

Don’t throw up.

Not now.

Not here.

I didn’t even know where I was.

The room was too bright.

The light stabbed into my eyes, making everything worse.

I tried to lift my hand to cover them,

but I couldn’t.

My body felt heavy.

Weak.

Like it didn’t belong to me.

What happened…?

The thought came slowly.

Blurry.

Out of reach.

“You’re awake…”

A deep voice filled the room.

Calm.

Too calm.

“What is it? A hangover?”

Arnold.

His voice pulled something loose in my memory.

He came closer.

I could feel him near me.

My face twisted as another wave of nausea hit.

“So… bright…” I whispered.

The words barely came out.

Even speaking made it worse.

“What?” he asked, leaning in.

I felt him close.

Too close.

“What did you say?”

“So… bright…” I repeated, my voice weaker this time.

The light burned.

“Oh.” He straightened. “I’ll fix that.”

I heard movement.

Then the curtains slid shut.

The harsh light faded.

The room dimmed.

My body loosened a little.

I tried opening my eyes again.

Slowly.

Carefully.

This time, it didn’t hurt as much.

And the first thing I saw,

was him.

Arnold stood beside the bed.

Arms crossed.

Hair messy.

Clothes loose, like he didn’t care how he looked.

There was a lazy look on his face.

And something else.

Amusement.

“Good morning, drunk woman,” he said.

That small smile on his lips made it worse.

I clenched my teeth.

I couldn’t answer him.

The world was still spinning.

My stomach twisted again.

I might throw up any second.

“What’s this?” he went on. “I didn’t know you had such a low tolerance.”

His tone was teasing.

Light.

Like this was funny.

“You should’ve told me last night. I would’ve stopped.”

He tilted his head slightly, watching me.

“But you looked so happy drinking. I didn’t want to ruin your escape.”

His words blurred at the edges,

but something inside them caught.

Something that made my chest tighten.

Fragments of last night came back.

The table.

The wine.

His voice.

The way my glass kept filling,

again and again.

My stomach dropped.

I drank like that…

because of him.

I wanted to snap at him.

Honestly,

I wanted to growl.

The way he spoke… so casual, so amused,

the audacity of this man.

“You’re the one who got me drunk!” I shot back, forcing the words out.

It took everything I had.

My throat tightened, and the nausea surged harder.

Too fast.

Too strong.

I wasn’t going to hold it in.

Not this time.

Arnold chose the worst possible moment to sit beside me.

The bed dipped under his weight.

Then his hand touched my arm.

Warm.

Slow.

Like he thought he was helping.

It moved up,

to my head.

Gently.

Like I was fragile.

“Don’t be like that,” he said. “I was just being nice to you last night.”

Nice?

The word barely settled,

before everything turned.

My stomach lurched.

And I couldn’t stop it.

I threw up.

Right on him.

Arnold froze.

Completely still.

Like his body didn’t understand what just happened.

Then,

“Argh! What are you doing?!” he snapped.

Too late.

The damage was done.

The mess soaked into his tunic.

Warm.

Unavoidable.

And the smell,

even I winced.

“This is disgusting!” he groaned, jumping up.

“Serves you right,” I muttered.

Weak.

Barely a whisper.

I should’ve apologized.

I knew that.

But I didn’t have the strength.

Not to fight.

Not to explain.

Not even to care.

So I just lay there, watching him storm out.

Moments later, he came back,

wearing only a towel.

Water still dripping from his hair.

My eyes widened slightly.

My cheeks warmed before I could stop it.

Annoying.

Even now,

in this state,

he still looked…

too distracting.

I looked away quickly.

Not because I wanted to,

but because I had to.

I didn’t need another problem.

“What did you say?” he asked.

His tone sharper now.

I kept my gaze down.

“I didn’t say anything,” I muttered.

“Lying,” he replied instantly.

I pressed my lips together.

“Stop making me talk. I feel like I’m going to throw up again.”

He grumbled under his breath and turned away.

Good.

I let out a small breath.

When he got dressed, the tension in my chest eased a little.

At least now I could think.

Barely.

But still,

better than before.

Then he came back.

And the moment he spoke,

everything inside me went still.

“Eugene was here this morning.”

My heart,

stopped.