Chapter 2

The water stopped.

The bathroom door swung open, and Kallum stepped out with only a black towel wrapped around his waist. Water dripped from his dark hair. Pure Alpha power radiated off his taut muscles, his scent of cedar and cool mint heavy with raw dominance.

He pulled back the sheets and climbed into bed. Without a word, his long arm snaked out and locked me against his warm, damp chest.

His rough, calloused hands slid under my silk nightgown, gripping my lower back with firm, possessive demand.

It was his habit of four years.

On any other night, I would have yielded instantly. I would have released my scent to soothe his violent wolf, eager to satisfy the man I loved.

Not tonight.

I gritted my teeth, planted both hands against his rock-hard chest, and shoved him back with all my strength.

"Don't touch me." My voice was dry as I yanked my slipping neckline back up.

Kallum swayed back slightly. His eyes narrowed, flashing with dangerous irritation. "What's wrong with you, Sierra?"

"I ran neural rejection tests all day. I'm exhausted." I looked away from his piercing stare, turned my back, and pulled the duvet tight. "Let's just sleep."

The air behind me plummeted below zero. His heavy Alpha presence suffocated the room, crushing my chest.

After a few tense seconds, Kallum scoffed. He didn't push it.

I thought I was safe. Then, his cold voice broke the dark.

"I didn't get to look over that phase-three report you made me sign today." The mattress dipped as he sat up. "Bring it here. I'll check it now."

An invisible fist clamped down around my heart. The mating mark on the back of my neck turned icy cold.

The severance agreement was the last page of that file. If he opened it right now, my thirty-day escape plan was dead.

I slid out of bed with stiff limbs, my fingers trembling in the dark as I reached for the folder.

The second my fingertips brushed the edge of the paper—

A sharp, shrill ring tore through the silence.

It was Kallum's private encrypted line. Only a handful of top lieutenants had this number.

Kallum grabbed the phone and hit speaker.

His guard's panicked voice spilled out: "Alpha! It's Scarlett! Her ex-husband brought rogues and kicked her door down! She's barricaded in the closet, sobbing..."

Kallum didn't even wait for the man to finish. He threw off the covers, surrounded by murderous fury.

"Lock down that entire block with pack enforcers! Don't let a single rat escape!" he barked, throwing on a black shirt. "I'll handle this myself."

He snatched his cashmere coat off the chair and strode toward the door.

Passing by me, he paused, offering a rushed, hollow excuse: "Perimeter breach. I have to handle it personally."

I stood in the shadows, watching his hurried fingers button his cuffs. It felt like watching a bad play.

"Understood," I said softly. "Be safe."

The heavy door slammed shut. The penthouse fell dead silent.

I sat on the living room sofa in my clothes, watching the wall clock tick away the hours. I didn't sleep a wink.

At six in the morning, pale dawn filtered through the blinds.

I tapped my phone screen. A fresh notification popped up from Scarlett's social page.

It was a photo taken at the private cliffside helipad, the rising sun painting the clouds gold and red.

Her caption was just two words: [Free again.]

In the reflection of the massive glass window behind her stood Kallum. He wore his black trench coat, holding a steaming cup of black coffee, his soft gaze locked on the woman behind the camera.

Looking at that picture, the last spark of love I had held for ten years finally died.

What a joke.

The ruthless, bloodthirsty Alpha had no shame in running to his newly single true love, yet he couldn't spare a shred of respect for his own Luna.

I was never his mate. I was just a convenient body to use and discard.

I locked my phone without shedding a single tear.

I walked into the walk-in closet and dragged eight large storage boxes out of the closet.

Every designer gown, every limited-edition handbag, every diamond necklace he had bought me over the past four years to play the part of his obedient wife—I didn't keep a single one. I packed them all away, sealing each box with a label for a local charity auction.

Since I was leaving, I wouldn't take a single scrap of his pity.

At noon, the front door clicked open.

Kallum walked in, carrying the faint reek of fresh blood. The violence from the previous night had eased his wolf's restless edge, leaving him looking tired and relaxed.

He stopped dead at the entrance, his brow furrowing at the eight giant boxes blocking the hallway. "What is all this? You've turned the place into a warehouse."

"Old junk I cleared out." I stood at the end of the hall, meeting his eyes with a calm expression. "They took up too much room in the closet, so I called a charity to haul them away."

Kallum didn't even care enough to open a box.

He pulled off his leather gloves, tossed them onto the console table, and waved lazily at the guards waiting outside.

"Get this trash out of here. It's an eyesore."

The guards bowed, immediately stepping in to haul the heavy boxes out one by one.

Kallum turned straight toward the bar, never once looking back.

He had no idea he had just personally cleared out every last trace of his wife from this home.

Pouring himself a glass of whiskey, he said over his shoulder, "The pack has an elite charity gala tonight. Get the lab data ready. I'll need it."