Chapter 7

Damon’s face went white.

"What?" He looked as if he'd misheard. "Elena, what did you just say?"

"I accept. To be a Rogue," I repeated, my tone as steady as if I were discussing the weather. "Isn't that what you want?"

"No!" He shook his head violently. "Elena, you're crazy! I was just angry, I didn't really mean—"

"But I do," I cut him off. "Damon, we're done."

Panic flashed in his eyes.

A raw, uncontrolled panic.

"Isabella, get out," he said suddenly, turning to the woman on the floor. "Elena and I need to talk. Alone."

"But Damon, my back..." Isabella put on a pained expression.

"Out!" His roar shook the room.

Terrified by his Alpha command, Isabella scrambled to her feet and fled the studio.

The room was silent, leaving just the two of us.

"Elena, what happened to your hand?" He suddenly noticed my right hand.

I glanced down. There were a few small, thin scratches on the back of my hand.

I must have caught it on a piece of glass while cleaning up the blueprints.

"It's nothing."

"How is it nothing?" He started to step toward me, but I stepped back. "Let me see."

"Don't."

"Elena, whatever is going on between us, I never want to see you get hurt." His tone softened. "After all these years, everything you've done for me..."

"Enough." I didn't want to hear his fake sentiment.

"I know what happened today was Isabella's fault," he continued. "I'll make her pay for the damages."

Pay for it?

"Damon, do you really think this is about money?"

"Then what is it about?" He looked at me, his expression earnest. "Elena, tell me. What do I need to do?"

I didn't answer, just went back to gathering the last of my things.

The drafting table was mostly empty.

I had already moved all the important blueprints and data.

"Why is your studio so empty?" He looked around, a growing unease in his voice. "Where are the project files?"

"I moved them."

"Moved them where?"

"To my new office."

He froze. "What new office?"

"The studio the Crescent Moon Pack set up for me," I said, closing the last portfolio. "The facility is state-of-the-art."

"Elena!" His voice was sharp. "You can't do that! Those designs contain classified information about the Black Stone Pack!"

"Don't worry, I won't leak your secrets," I said, zipping my bag. "After all, we won't have anything to do with each other soon."

"What do you mean, 'nothing to do with each other'?" He was starting to panic. "Elena, what are you doing?"

"I'm leaving," I said, walking toward the door. "I've sold the apartment."

"What?!" He grabbed my arm. "What did you just say?"

"The apartment is sold," I said, yanking my arm free. "The new owner takes possession tomorrow."

"That's impossible!" His eyes were wide with disbelief. "Elena, you're lying! This apartment requires my final seal to be sold!"

"Oh, really?" I pulled the document he'd signed last night from my bag. "Are you sure about that?"

I held it out to him.

"See for yourself."

His hands trembled as he took the paper and quickly scanned it.

When his eyes landed on the title, "Property Transfer Agreement," the color drained from his face.

"What... what is this?"

"The property transfer agreement," I said calmly. "The one you signed yourself last night."

"No!" He frantically flipped to the last page, his face a mask of horror. "I thought... I thought this was your written apology!"

"When did I ever say it was an apology letter?"

"You... you tricked me!" His voice shook.

"I didn't trick you," I said, my tone unchanging. "All I said was, 'You should take a look at this.' You were the one who didn't bother to read it."

He kept scanning the document, desperately searching for a loophole.

But the terms were ironclad, the legal language precise.

And on the final page, there was a crimson mark.

When Damon saw the clear, undeniable mark of his Alpha Seal—his own crimson thumbprint, imbued with a trace of his power—his body went rigid.