Chapter 3

Lana's POV

The morning didn't greet me with sunlight or the gentle chirping of birds. It arrived as a jagged, shrill intrusion, the villa's landline screaming from the bedside table like a physical assault.

I tried to move, and my entire body revolted. A dull, heavy throb pulsed between my thighs, a constant, stinging reminder of Silas's "claim" from the night before. My muscles felt like they had been dismantled and put back together by someone who didn't know where the parts went.

I fumbled for the receiver, my bandaged hand clumsy and stiff. "Who... who is it?"

My voice was a shredded, unrecognizable mess. It sounded like I'd spent the night screaming into a void. Which, in a way, I had.

"Lana? Goddess, you sound like absolute shit. Did you spend the night howling at a blood moon, or are you actually dying?"

Maya. My best friend, a firebrand Gamma who had once tried to fight a Pack Enforcer over a parking spot. Her voice was the only thing that could pierce through the fog of my exhaustion.

I squeezed my eyes shut, and for a split second, I was back on that leather sofa. I could feel Silas's heavy frame pinning me down, his mouth crushing mine, his fingers digging into my hips as he vented three years of repressed rage and misplaced disgust into my body.

"Just a cold, Maya," I lied, my voice cracking. "I'm fine. What's up?"

"What's up? Lana, are you high? We were supposed to celebrate your Freedom Day! I've been sitting at The Obsidian Grill for two hours. I've been paging your link, but your phone is dead. I thought maybe you'd chickened out and decided to stay with that prick."

I sat bolt upright, ignoring the searing protest of my bruised core. I glanced at the digital clock on the dresser.

11:00 AM.

The world seemed to tilt. I was an hour late for the divorce signing. My heart hammered against my ribs, frantic and loud.

I scanned the master suite, but it was hollow. Silas was gone. The air in the room was cold and sterile, smelling of nothing but expensive laundry detergent and wood polish.

No scent of forest rain or cedarwood lingered. It was as if he had never been there at all—as if the war we waged on that sofa was just a fever dream I had conjured.

That absolute bastard. He had exhausted me until I couldn't keep my eyes open, and then he had walked out, leaving me to overleaf the most important appointment of my life.

He wanted me to look like the failure. He wanted to hold all the power, forever.

"I have to go," I whispered to Maya. "I'll meet you at the restaurant in thirty minutes. Don't leave."

The Obsidian Grill

The restaurant was a cathedral of glass and black marble, a place where the city's most powerful came to flaunt their wealth. I felt like a smudge on a masterpiece as I slid into the booth across from Maya.

My trench coat was buttoned to the chin to hide the dark, purple blossoms Silas had left on my neck, and my hair was pulled into a tight, severe bun.

"He's a monster. A literal, cold-blooded, narcissistic monster," Maya hissed, her eyes fixated on the fresh, white bandages on my right hand.

I'd told her a truncated version of the ER trip—the glass, the insomnia—but I'd skipped the part where my husband treated me like a combat dummy.

"Maya, keep your voice down," I murmured, staring into my untouched salad.

"I will not! He ignores your emergency calls, he parades that Botoxed Beta mistress Celine in your face at the club, and then he lets his pack of sycophants treat you like a goddamn servant? Lana, if you don't sign those papers today, I will shift right here and bite his throat out. I don't care if he's a Billionaire Alpha. He's a piece of shit."

The restaurant was quiet enough that her voice echoed. Several shifters at nearby tables turned their heads, their eyes gleaming with interest.

"Maya, please. People are looking."

"Let them look! The whole pack knows anyway. You've spent three years being a glorified nanny to that ungrateful wolf. And now what? You missed the hearing because you overslept? Lana..." She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a dangerous, inquisitive hum. "Did you two actually... you know... before the divorce? Did he finally break the celibacy streak?"

I looked down at my plate, my face heating up until I felt like I was glowing. I couldn't lie to her, but I couldn't find the words for the truth either. "Is it a crime? To have... goodbye sex?"

A sharp, masculine bark of laughter erupted from directly behind me.

The sound was like a physical blow. I froze. The air around the table suddenly changed—dropping ten degrees and vibrating with the heavy, suffocating pressure of an Alpha's presence.

I didn't need to turn around to know who it was. The scent of cedarwood and ozone hit me like a tidal wave.

I turned slowly.

Silas was standing there, looking impeccably groomed in a charcoal-grey suit that cost more than my entire apothecary would.

He looked rested, powerful, and utterly unfazed by the night he had put me through. Beside him stood Julian Vane, his cousin, who was currently wearing a grin that promised trouble.

And, of course, Celine Thorne was tucked under Silas's wing.

She looked radiant in a cream-colored silk dress, but as her eyes met mine, I saw a flicker of something dark. Her aristocratic mask was twitching.

She had clearly heard Maya. She knew. She knew that Silas hadn't spent the night celebrating her return in her bed—he had spent it in mine.

For a who claimed to be his soulmate, the realization that he'd lost control with a "human" was a visible, stinging blow to her pride.

Julian, ever the instigator, stepped forward, his eyes dancing with amusement.

"Goodbye sex, huh? Sounds interesting. How did the great Silas Vane perform? Did you enjoy it?"

The restaurant went silent. Even the clinking of silverware stopped.

I felt Silas's eyes burning into me—gold, predatory, and promising a world of pain if I said the wrong thing.

He stood there with his arms crossed, his posture radiating a smug, dominant confidence. He expected me to blush.

He expected me to stammer and hide my face in my hands like the submissive little wife I'd been for three years.

He wanted me to cower.

I took a slow sip of my water, my hand trembling slightly, but my gaze remained fixed on the table. Then, I looked up.

I didn't look at Celine. I didn't look at Julian. I looked Silas Vane straight in those golden eyes.

I shrugged, my expression one of bored indifference.

"It was... alright," I said, my voice projecting clearly through the room. "A bit mechanical, to be honest. Maybe he's just out of practice. Or maybe the hype didn't quite match the reality."

The silence that followed was so thick you could have cut it with a silver blade.

Julian's jaw literally dropped. Maya let out a muffled sound that was either a sob or a laugh. Behind us, a group of Omegas gasped.

No one—absolutely no one—evaluated a True Alpha's performance as "alright." It was more than an insult; it was a challenge to his core identity.

I had just treated the most powerful man in the state like a mediocre Yelp review for a two-star hotel.

Silas's face didn't move, but I saw the exact moment his control snapped. His jaw tightened so hard I heard the bone click, and a low, guttural growl vibrated deep in his chest.

His Alpha aura flared, a crushing weight that made the surrounding shifters instinctively bow their heads or look away. He looked like he wanted to shift right there and tear the restaurant—and me—into pieces.

The submissive, quiet, "nanny" Lana he had known for three years was dead. And I think he realized in that moment that he was the one who had killed her the night before.

"Three o'clock," Silas growled, the sound vibrating through the floorboards and up into my feet. "At the lawyer's office. Don't be late again, Lana. Or I'll find a way to make the 'goodbye' even more... mechanical. I promise you won't like the results."

He didn't wait for a reply. He turned on his heel and strode away, his heavy coat billowing behind him like a dark cloud. Celine scrambled to keep up, her heels clicking frantically on the marble, but before she turned the corner, she threw a look of pure, murderous hatred over her shoulder.

"Holy shit," Maya whispered, her eyes wide as dinner plates. "Lana... you're a goddamn legend. You just told the strongest Alpha in the Northern Hemisphere that he was 'okay' in bed. I think I'm in love with you."

I finally picked up my fork, my appetite returning for the first time in weeks. My body still ached, and my heart was still heavy with the silver-rot I was carrying for him, but for the first time in three years, I felt like I was winning.

"Three o'clock," I said, stabbing a piece of lettuce. "I'm going to be there early. I wouldn't miss his signature for anything in the world."