Chapter 3

Faye's POV

I shuddered, clenching my thighs around him. The sound of his cock gliding against me was too much.

He let out a soft sound of satisfaction. "You're perfect." And then he was back, thrusting between my thighs. I saw the empty wrapper flutter to the bed. He pushed on my back until my face was on the bed, my ass in the air, completely exposed.

He thrust into me hard, driving me over the edge over and over again. The pain I’d felt earlier seemed like a bad dream.

I couldn’t think. I couldn’t do anything but hold on and give in. He turned my head to kiss me, drinking in every pant and moan. My head was a mess. All I could taste was his him. All I could feel was the hot throb of his cock inside me.

We moved together until I lost count of what I was feeling and who I was supposed to be angry at. His pace built until I broke again, harder this time, and he followed a moment later with his face buried in my neck.

Afterward, I lay on sheets that cost more than my monthly budget and stared at the ceiling. His arm was still across my waist. His breathing was slow and even, but his thumb kept tracing small circles on my hip, like he wasn't quite done touching me.

The scent of our mingled sweat and sex filled my nose like a drug and I basked in it, wondering if there was enough cash in the Darkmoon accounts to pay a man of his skill.

I had come here to hurt Aiden. But during the time I was having sex with him, I completely forgot Aiden existed.

—

I woke to the sound of the shower running. Morning light sliced through the curtains, and I sat up too fast, head pounding, skin flushed with the memory of what we'd done.

On the nightstand — his watch, a glass of water he must have set out for me, and a hotel robe folded neatly on the chair.

I couldn't face him sober. I pulled cash from my purse, left it on the pillow, and slipped out before the water stopped.

The cab ride home was quiet. I pressed my forehead against the window and told myself it was a one-time thing. A mistake powered by whiskey and heartbreak. I would never see him again.

I walked into the house and the silence hit me first. Aiden hadn't come home. The anniversary candles had burned down to pools of wax on the tablecloth.

I started packing. Clothes, documents, the few things that were mine. In the back of the closet, behind Aiden's winter coat, my hand closed around a box.

The same box. The one he'd thrown away in front of me.

I opened it. Inside were various photos of Julia: one of her in black lace lingerie, and a selfie of the two of them on a hotel bed. There was also a thong she'd worn, a silk scarf embroidered with her initials, and three letters in her handwriting. He hadn't thrown any of it away—he'd simply hidden the originals somewhere I would never think to look.

My hands didn't shake. Something inside me went very still and very cold.

I sat on the bed and turned on his backup laptop. Her birthday — the date on the back of her photo — unlocked it on the first try.

The folder was labeled "J." Inside were hundreds of photos, along with sex tapes of them together, and years of chat logs that chronicled every detail of their entire love story. He'd never stopped.

The messages were worse than the photos. Pet names. Plans. Money. I learned that on the night before Aidan proposed to me, Julia had gotten engaged to an older Alpha who was wealthier than Aidan was at the time. It turned out that our marriage existed only because he had been provoked by Julia.

He'd spent more on her birthday gift last year than he'd spent on me in three years combined. In one thread, she'd asked him why he kept me around. His reply: "She's useful. Manages the pack better than any hire. And she'll never leave — where would she go?"

I read it twice. Then I closed the laptop.

For three years I had cut myself off from my family, hidden my wolf, swallowed my pride, and built this man's life with my bare hands. He had kept me because I was convenient. Because an orphan with no family had nowhere to run.

I had left home without looking back, all for the sake of so-called freedom and love, breaking my father's heart in the process. At that thought, something choked in my chest, sour and tight, almost stealing my breath. But maybe it wasn't too late. I still had my father; he might still be waiting for me. I had to muster the courage—even if I'd be scolded, even if I'd be turned away—I had to try.

I picked up my phone and dialed my father's number.

It rang four times. Each ring felt like a year. I had rehearsed an apology a thousand times: I'm sorry I ran. I'm sorry I chose wrong. I'm sorry I was too proud to call.

"Faye?" My father's voice was rough, like he hadn't slept.

"Dad." My voice cracked. "I'm sorry. I was wrong about everything. I ran from the marriage because I didn't want to be handed to a stranger, and the man I chose — he —"

I couldn't finish.

Silence. One second. Two. I braced for the lecture. The disappointment. The I told you so.

"Which bastard," my father said, quiet and deadly, "dared to hurt my daughter?"

I stood there frozen, unable to tell whether it was shock or something softer that had caught in my chest. That unguarded, unflinching love from my own blood made my eyes burn until I was a breath away from crying.

But I couldn't afford to be weak. Not now. I drew a steadying breath and laid out the whole truth of the past three years—my husband, Aiden Blackfang. My fated mate. Three years married. Cheating the entire time.

"That pack?" My father's voice dropped to something between disbelief and contempt. "Three years ago that boy didn't have the standing to shake my hand at a summit. And he dared —"

He stopped himself. When he spoke again, the fury had shifted to something softer. "Come home, Faye. Whenever you're ready. Your room is exactly the way you left it." A pause. "Your brother and I have missed you every single day."

"I love you all. I miss you so much," I said, my voice slightly choked.

"By the way, Alpha Dorian—he's been asking about you lately," my father said.

I froze. Dorian Nighthowl, the one I was supposed to be married to back then... the one I ran from.

My father paused, his tone carrying something I couldn't quite read. "He's now the top Alpha in the South, commanding more territory than any Alpha around here. That engagement still stands—he never called it off. Do you have any thoughts on that?"