CHAPTER 5

I managed a tight, polite smile. Just as Cole clearly valued his privacy, I had no desire to broadcast our arrangement. If the pack found out I was entangled with both the nephew and the uncle, I’d be labeled a social pariah or worse. I chose to believe he’d intervened at the restaurant simply because he couldn't stand Talia’s lack of decorum.

"Guessing based on your experience? Please!" Sally nudged me, her eyes wide. "Let me tell you, Cole Ryder is the apex of Alphas. Any female would be blessed to be claimed by him. I’m pure green with envy!"

I didn't have the heart to tell her that the "apex" she was worshiping was the same man who had left his scent all over my skin just hours before.

The meal was spectacular. Noah must have issued a direct order, because the staff treated us like royalty, bringing out the kitchen’s finest delicacies. For a moment, with a full stomach and a loyal friend, I felt almost human again.

But as we were leaving, my phone buzzed with a message from Noah.

[Miss Mercer, I’ve had a few too many glasses of moon-essence and can’t operate the transport. Could you please get Mr. Ryder home?]

I stared at the screen, hesitating. [I can call a private car for him,] I typed back. I wasn't eager to play chauffeur again. Who knew where he’d direct me this time?

Sally peeked at the screen. "From Mr. Pierce? He wants to see you, doesn't he?"

"Something like that," I murmured.

"Go!" Sally pushed me toward the curb. "With that body and that fire, no Alpha stands a chance. I’m going to go find some trouble of my own." She disappeared into the night before I could protest.

I was about to call her back when I sensed him. Cole was walking toward me, silhouetted against the city lights. Even in a simple black shirt and trousers, he radiated a power that made the air hum. As he drew near, the faint, intoxicating scent of expensive whiskey and pine washed over me. He wordlessly held out a car key.

"You haven't left yet?" I asked.

"I can't leave if you don't drive me, Ivy," he replied, his voice a low vibration.

Why me? I grumbled internally. Call a pack guard, hire a driver, or just shift and run home. But my hand reached out and took the key. Once again, I found myself behind the wheel of his black Koenigsegg.

I was more careful tonight. No mistaking the pedals, no running lights. I drove with the agonizing caution of a snail.

"At this rate, the sun will be up before we reach the territory borders," Cole remarked, his golden eyes reflecting the passing streetlamps.

I didn't speed up. This car was worth more than my entire lineage’s remaining assets; I wasn't taking chances.

Suddenly, Cole commanded, "Pull over."

I obeyed, stepping on the brake only to realize we were right outside my apartment. I felt like I’d been led into a trap, but Cole didn't say a word. He stepped out, and I had no choice but to follow.

"Mr. Ryder, your key..."

He ignored me, walking straight to my door. Just like before, I couldn't resist the intensity of his gaze. I opened the door, and the moment it clicked shut, he lifted me into his arms.

I panicked for a second, my heart racing, but then I wrapped my arms around his neck and forced a mocking smile. "Last night earned me a whiskey contract, Alpha. What’s the prize for tonight’s performance?"

It was a defensive jab, a way to protect my bruised pride by acting like it was all business. Cole froze, looking down at my fake smile. He frowned, his eyes darkening.

"What is it you want, Ivy? Just name it."

His seriousness caught me off guard. He didn't move to kiss me or tear at my clothes. Instead, he sat me gently on the edge of the bed and knelt on the floor. He rolled up my trouser leg, revealing my swollen, purpled ankle.

"Don't move," he ordered.

He produced a jar of cooling ointment and began to massage it into the injury. His touch was firm yet incredibly gentle. Watching the most powerful Alpha on the West Coast tend to a fallen socialite’s wound broke something inside me. The walls I’d built over the last few months crumbled, and tears began to track silently down my face.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, looking up.

I thought I saw a flicker of tenderness in his expression—pity, perhaps, or something deeper.

"No," I whispered. I’d almost forgotten the pain from the restaurant scuffle, but the weight of being cared for was overwhelming. Ever since my family fell, people had avoided me like a plague. No one cared if I was hurt. Until now.

"It’s alright," he murmured, his hand moving to gently pat my back. "The swelling will be gone by morning."

His comfort only made me sob harder. He pulled me into a tender embrace, whispering, "Everything will be alright," before his lips met mine.

The night that followed was different. It wasn't just a storm of friction; it was gentler, slower. He allowed me to feel like a woman, not just a survivor.

At dawn, Cole woke me. My mind was a fog of exhaustion. He looked perfectly composed, unaffected by our late night.

"Unlock your device," he said.

"Mmm," I mumbled, handing him my phone. When he gave it back, I saw a new contact: 'C', with a solid black profile picture. I tossed the phone aside and fell back into the pillows.

When my alarm finally screamed, he was gone. I dragged myself to Pacific Heights Medical Center. Before my shift, I slipped into the sterile ward to check on my mother, Elaine.

It had been weeks since the 'accident' that ruined us, and while she was healing, her mind was fractured. She shared a ward with three others due to my lack of funds. The moment she saw me in my white medical coat, her face contorted with bitterness.

"You’re wearing that rags again? How many times must I tell you? I don't want to see you in that uniform!"

"Mom, I’m an intern. I’m a healer," I said softly.

"I never gave you leave to be a doctor! Do you even care about this family?" She began her usual tirade, her voice rising. "I should have smothered you in the cradle! You’re a curse!"

I bit my lip, knowing it was the trauma talking. But then, her eyes narrowed. She pointed a trembling finger at my neck. "Wait... what are those?"

My heart stopped. I reflexively covered the marks Cole had left. I hadn't realized how visible they were.

"How cheap can you be?" she spat, her voice echoing in the quiet ward. "You aren't even mated to Blake yet, and you’re already throwing yourself at him? You’re a disgrace!"

Elaine’s hatred for "modern" courtship was well known—she’d been burned by a rogue before marrying my father. Her outburst drew the eyes of everyone in the ward. I felt like a stray being shamed in the town square.

"Mom, please, stop," I begged.

A nurse finally came to sedate her. As she drifted off, she muttered, "Retribution... it’s all retribution..."

"Ivy, don't take it to heart," said Matt, her attending physician and an old schoolmate of mine. "Her neural pathways are still inflamed. She doesn't know what she's saying."

"I know," I said, though it didn't stop the sting.

"Anyway," Matt said, trying to cheer me up, "you’re still the talk of the surgical department. Professor Smith still uses your valve replacement from two years ago as the gold standard. You were the youngest lead surgeon we’ve ever had."

I tried to smile. Back then, I was a prodigy. Now, I was just trying to pay for the bed my mother was lying in.

"Another genius joined the staff today, by the way," Matt added. "Master's degree by sixteen, studied in Zurich. I wonder how she’ll compare to you."

I headed back to the ER, where Sally intercepted me with the morning's pack gossip.

"Old Man Ryder is in the North Wing with heart failure," she whispered. "Blake and Talia were there this morning, licking his boots to ensure the inheritance doesn't skip them. I should have 'accidentally' tripped them into a biohazard bin."

"Blake was here?" I felt a chill.

Later that afternoon, while moving a patient, I ran into Talia in the hallway. She blocked my path, a sneer plastered on her face.

"Ivy. Looking for a way to climb back into Blake’s bed while he’s distracted?"

"This is a hospital, Talia. I'm working. Move."

"I'm warning you," she hissed. "Stay away from him."

I laughed, a cold, sharp sound. "You should be more worried about keeping him. I don't want your leftovers."

Talia’s face turned purple. "You think you're so high and mighty? Your family is cursed by the moon. Your father is a prisoner, and your mother is a half-charred vegetable in a charity ward. You deserve every bit of this misery."

"Shut up!" I snapped, my eyes flashing red as my wolf pushed to the surface. "Leave my parents out of this."

"Why? It's the truth. Your mother deserves to rot in that sterile room forever."

I didn't think. I reacted. My hand flew out and caught Talia across the face with a resounding crack.

Talia’s head snapped back. Suddenly, her expression shifted from malice to mock-terror. She began to sob, sinking to her knees just as footsteps pounded down the hall.

"Ivy! What have you done?"

Blake rushed forward, shoving me aside to pull Talia into his arms. "I'm so sorry, honey. I’ve got you."

"Blake, she hit me!" Talia wailed. "I just wanted to offer her some comfort about her mother, and she attacked me!"

"Ivy, I know you're hurting because of our breakup," Blake said, his voice full of self-righteous pity, "but this is pathetic. Apologize to Talia right now, or I'll ensure the Board hears about this 'incident'."

"Apologize to that viper? I’d rather be exiled," I spat.

Blake’s face darkened. He raised his hand, his eyes filled with a cowardly rage. "You need to learn some respect."

I closed my eyes, waiting for the blow. But it never came.

"Uncle!" Blake gasped.

I opened my eyes. Cole was there, his hand wrapped around Blake’s wrist like a vice. His expression was absolute zero.

"You were going to strike a woman, Blake?" Cole asked, his voice a low, lethal silk.

"She hit Talia first!" Blake stammered, his bravado vanishing.

"Mr. Ryder!" Talia cried from the floor. "She’s a monster! She attacked me for no reason!"

Cole didn't even look at her. He kept his gaze on Blake, his grip tightening until Blake’s face paled. "I don't care what she did. In this territory, a Ryder man does not lift his hand against a female. Is that understood, or do I need to re-educate you?"