Chapter 5

Valeria's POV

I couldn't just slip away like I did four weeks ago, like a thief in the dark of the night, not yet. The humiliation in the foyer, the feeling of my heart constricting, the sight of Cynthia's perfect hand resting on his arm, and the suffocating weight of the secret growing inside me had morphed from a crushing sorrow into something hot and almost blinding. 

If Ares was going to throw away what we did for a crown, I was going to make him look me in the eye when he did it. I waited in my chambers until the late-night lights of the manor began to dim one by one. I knew Ares's schedule: after every event, he always retreated to his private study on the second floor to drink away the tension he refused to let anyone else see.

When I reached the double oak doors of his study, the exact spot where this madness had started weeks ago, I didn't hesitate. I turned the handle and pushed inside, holding my breath. The scent of mint and expensive scotch hit me instantly, as my eyes settled on him. He was sitting behind his massive desk, his tie loosened, a glass of dark amber liquid held loosely in his right hand. His head snapped up, and I could have sworn his eyes widened a bit before his blank expression returned.

"Valeria," he rasped, his voice dropping an octave as he slammed his glass onto the desk. "Are you out of your mind? What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to hear from you," I said, closing the door behind me. I then crossed my arms to keep him from seeing jow badly my hands were shaking. "I want you to speak to me, just you and me."

Ares stood up, pushed his swivel chair backwards and walked around the desk in slow yet long steps. "There is nothing to say," he spat. "I told you to leave this house. I was clear that our night was a mistake."

"Don't lie to me, Ares! Not tonight!" I yelled, my voice cracking. I stepped forward, meeting him in the centre of the room. "If she is meant to be your wife, why did you touch me the way you did? Why did you grunt my name like it was the only thing keeping you alive? Why the fuck was me beneath you and not her?" My voice arose with each question, leaving my chest rising and falling rapidly.

His nostrils visibly flared. "I am a man with needs, and you were—"

"Don't you dare say I was just convenient," I whispered, the words trembling. Unsure of what I was doing, I took another step and closed the distance until I could feel the heat radiating off his body. "Tell me, do you love her? Because I know she is not your mate."

"I-I," he stammered. "I don't answer to you," he ended up saying, looking at everywhere else but at me.

"Why are you marrying her?" Ares froze, a muscle twitching violently in his cheek. Finally, he looked down at me, his nostrils flaring further as he took a deep, ragged breath.

"You wouldn't understand," he went on, his voice dropping into a dangerously quiet murmur. His eyes searched mine before he reached out, his large hand hovering over my shoulder as if he desperately wanted to grab me, before he dropped his arm back to his side.

"You do not have a wolf, Valeria. Were you expecting an Alpha heir, me..." He pointed at himself before continuing, "did you really think I'd choose you as my mate? A human to rule werewolves?" The more he spoke, the more the lump in my throat grew.

"So this is it?" A bitter laugh escaped my lips. "You used me," I muttered, the bitter truth making me close my eyes first to push back the tears that were forming.

"Used you?" He arched a brow. "Oh, come on, you threw yourself at me. You even begged me to fuck you!"

I took a step back, his words landing like a brutal blow. "What?" I asked, my voice breaking as the tears I tried to hold so badly spilt. Through my blurry vision, I watched as his brows furrowed, something passing across his eyes.

"I am doing this to protect—" He cut himself off, his teeth snapping shut as he choked back the rest of the sentence.

"To protect what, Ares? Your pride? Your legacy?" I wiped my tears furiously before reaching out to him, my fingers trembling as I lightly touched the fabric of his shirt.

"Don't do this, please," I begged, remembering the pregnancy test in the pocket of my coat. "Don't marry her. Choose me; we can leave Ares. We can find a place where none of this matters." I knew the weight of what I was asking him, but I couldn't stop myself.

For one beautiful yet agonising second, Ares let out a low, tortured growl. Then he grabbed my wrists, his grip tight and bruising, and pulled me flush against his massive frame. He looked down at me, his face contorting, eyes fierce. "You think it's that simple?" he roared back, his hot breath slamming against my face. "You think I can just walk away? If I choose you, many things will go wrong."

"I don't care about that! Can't you see that I care about you?" I cried, more tears spilling over my lashes. "The last four weeks have been absolutely difficult. There is no single day I didn't think about you, about that night," I admitted, swallowing hard to soothe my drying throat.

"But you?" I withdrew my right hand from his grip and poked his chest with my index finger. "You are a coward," I hissed. "You are hiding behind your duty because it's easier than choosing a human stepsister." 

The word "coward" seemed to slice right through him. His expression went completely rigid, and his body stiffened. The warmth in his eyes died instantly, replaced by a chilling emptiness that made my blood run cold. He slowly released my left wrist and stepped back.

"Believing that a few minutes of passion gives you the right to dictate my future is your final foolish mistake, Valeria," he spoke, his voice entirely devoid of emotion. He then turned his back to me and walked back towards his desk.

"I am marrying Cynthia. She is the perfect Luna for the next Alpha King. Go back to your apartment, and don't ever look for me." 

The silence that followed after that was deafening. I remained standing where he had left me, staring at his broad, tense back. With one last sniffle, I wiped the remaining tears with the back of my hand, slowly, until no more moisture filled my eyes. At that exact moment, something shifted inside me.  

Since I left the grand room, I had imagined this moment differently. I had imagined telling him about the pregnancy, watching as his face lit up. I had imagined him calling off the engagement. But standing there, I realised I was the only one foolishly holding on.

I didn't yell; I simply reached into my pocket, my fingers brushing against the pregnancy test. Instead of pulling it out, I left it right where it was. I could tell him, in one sentence, that was all it would take, but he didn't deserve to know; I was wrong about that. He didn't deserve this child. He had made his choice, and now I was going to make mine.

"You are right," I agreed, my voice steady, cold and entirely empty. "It was a mistake; you were a mistake." I turned on my heel, walked to the door, unlocked it and left for my room, head held high. I was going to pack my bags, disappear from this territory, and raise my child alone.

He had chosen his crown, I had chosen my child, and before dawn, I would be gone.