Parsons pulled up to the front entrance.A valet approached, then hesitated when he saw my face through the window.Smart man.Even humans could sense a predator.
I adjusted my cuffs one last time.Checked my reflection in the dark glass.The mask was in place.Cold.Controlled.The man the world expected to see.
Underneath, my wolf paced and snarled, desperate to find her.To see her.To make sure she was real and whole and alive after two months of nothing but reports and surveillance photos.
Soon,I told him.Soon.
I stepped out of the car.
The mountain air hit me first, crisp and clean, carrying the scent of pine and thawing spring earth.And underneath it, faint but unmistakable, the trace of apples and cream that meant she was here.Close.My wolf surged forward so hard I had to grip the car door to steady myself.
Ours.Go to her now.
“Sir?”Parsons had come around to stand beside me.“Are you all right?”
I released the door.Straightened my jacket.Let the cold settle back into my bones where it belonged.
“Fine.”The word came out rough.I cleared my throat.“Wait here.This won’t take long.”
It was a lie.This would take everything I had.
I walked toward the entrance, each step carrying me closer to the woman who hated me, the woman I was about to trap, the woman I would destroy myself to protect.
She could hate me for the rest of her life, as long as she was alive to do it.
3
LENA
I had dressed for war.
Black blazer, perfectly tailored.White silk blouse buttoned to the throat like a barrier.Hair pulled back so tight my scalp ached with every micro-movement of my head.Every defense I owned, deployed against a man who had already proven he could strip me bare with nothing but words.
The morning light streaming through my office windows was obscene.Too bright.Too cheerful.Too much like life was carrying on as if nothing had happened.Outside, spring was insisting on itself despite everything.Like it didn’t care that Lena Hughes was about to sign away whatever remained of her freedom.
I stared at the contract spread across my desk for the hundredth time.The same clauses I had memorized weeks ago, the same neat lawyer’s handwriting in the margins, the same impossible terms.Nine months remaining.His time.His property.His to summon whenever he wished.
And today, he was summoning.
My throat ached.That familiar phantom sensation I couldn’t shake, no matter how many weeks passed.My fingers kept drifting to my neck, searching for the cold kiss of silver that wasn’t there anymore.The collar he had clasped around my throat and made me wear like a brand.The collar he had unclasped that final morning like it meant nothing, letting it fall to the floor along with everything I had foolishly allowed myself to feel.
The contract is fulfilled.The debt is paid.We’re done.
It was adequate.
I pressed my palms flat against the desk to stop them from shaking.The wood was cool and solid beneath my fingers.Real.Solid.Unlike everything else in my life, which had turned to smoke and mirrors the moment Hartley opened that will.
Clara had offered to stay.I had sent her away an hour ago, watched her gather her things with that worried crease between her eyebrows that had become permanent since the funeral.She had wanted to argue.I could see it in the set of her jaw, the way she had paused at the door with her hand on the frame.
“You don’t have to do this alone,” she had said.
But I did.This was my fight.My cage.My trap to spring or die in.Clara couldn’t save me from this any more than she could bring my father back from the dead or undo the months I had spent in Raphael Antonov’s bed, mistaking ownership for love.
The phone on my desk rang and I nearly came out of my skin.
My heart slammed against my ribs.Once.Twice.The shrill sound cut through the quiet like a blade, and I gripped the edge of the desk hard enough that my knuckles went white.
I let it ring twice.Three times.Forced my breathing to steady, forced my voice to sound calm, before I picked up the receiver.
