Chapter 3

Elowen's POV

The words barely left his mouth before four medics in white uniforms kicked the door open. They roughly pinned my arms behind my back using restraints and shoved me into an unmarked dark van.

When the doors opened again, I was blinded by a matrix of camera flashes. We were outside Pinehaven Asylum, far past Kestrel City limits. Countless cameras shoved in my face like hyenas smelling blood. My hair was wild, and my hospital gown was still smeared with the blood from Rhysand’s head. I looked like absolute hell.

And past the blinding white lights, I saw Rhysand standing apart from the crowd.

"Elowen has been under immense stress recently and has developed severe psychosis and hallucinations," he stated into a sea of microphones, his voice perfectly steady. "Therefore, all the accusations she made against Linnea are the delusions of a sick mind. They carry no legal weight."

The crowd erupted in gasps. In a few sentences, he not only cleared his true love of arson but permanently nailed me to the cross of insanity.

The cold seeped into my bones, and my throat was so dry I couldn’t force out a single word of defense. A second later, the medics manhandled me through the heavy metal doors.

My room was a solitary confinement cell featuring only a metal bed.

"This is per Alpha's orders," Dr. Klaus stated blankly as he slid a needle into my vein, injecting cold tranquilizers into my system. "He instructed that once the media frenzy dies down, he’ll naturally let you out."

The next five days were a nightmare I’ll never forget.

The heavy iron door completely sealed me off from the world. I slammed my fists against it over and over until my knuckles bled, begging them to let me out. My only answer came in the form of brutal physical restraint and handfuls of colorful psychiatric pills.

The massive doses of drugs ground my consciousness to dust. I plummeted into terrifying hallucinations. Sometimes I saw the unborn baby who died in the fire, howling in the dark corners of the room. Sometimes I heard the intercom blaring the vicious online comments—calling me jealous, evil, a crazy bitch who wouldn't let go.

Over and over, the medication pushed me to the edge of death. And with it, the deep, groveling love I had harbored for three years was stripped clean, leaving absolutely nothing behind.

On the morning of the sixth day, Klaus finally unlocked my door.

"Alpha said you're free to go. The scandal has blown over." He handed me a brown paper bag containing my regular clothes and an unlimited Hale Group black card. "Alpha wanted me to pass on his apologies. He said he will accommodate any demand for compensation."

Klaus paused, entirely condescending. "He even promised to clear his schedule and spend an entire week at the manor, just to keep you company."

The "companionship" that I had gone crazy longing for over the last three years now felt like a rotting rat shoved down my throat. Utter nausea surged up my esophagus. I gripped the doorframe, dry-heaving violently.

I didn't take a single thing.

I walked out the hospital doors and flagged down a passing cab.

"Kestrel City International Airport."

Seconds before boarding the flight arranged for me, I opened my phone and permanently blocked every single one of Rhysand's contacts.

Goodbye forever, Rhysand Hale.

Rhysand’s POV

"She didn't take anything?"

I sat in my CEO office at Hale Group, my brows knitted tightly.

On the other end of the line, Dr. Klaus's voice was practically trembling. "Yes, Alpha. Your wife refused all compensation..."

I scoffed off a cold laugh. Did she really think playing hard to get and acting disgusted would force me to compromise? Pathetic.

"Understood." I impatiently yanked at my tie, about to hang up.

"Rhys!" My older brother Ambrose crashed through my door without knocking, his face as white as paper. "Grandpa summoned the entire Pack Council to the assembly hall. He ordered you to haul your ass back there. Now."

My feral heart skipped a beat out of nowhere.

Forty minutes later, I pushed open the heavy oak doors of the assembly hall. Theron Hale sat at the head in the Alpha's seat, ancient eyes burning with unadulterated fury.

"From this moment on, Rhysand Hale is officially stripped of the Alpha title!" Grandpa roared.

The entire hall fell into dead silence.

I snapped my head up, sheer disbelief coursing through my veins. This was Elowen's doing. She had obviously gone crying to my grandfather, blowing this out of proportion just to punish me for locking her up for a few days.

"Are you really making this decision based on her little temper tantrum?" I stood up straight, laughing coldly. "She's just throwing a fit because she doesn't think I care enough. Fine. I'll go apologize to her right now and bring her home. Will that satisfy you?"

"Apologize?"

Grandpa suddenly let out a desolate, agonizing laugh. He turned around, his piercing eyes now holding nothing but raw devastation and rage. He violently hurled a stack of photos right into my face.

"You stupid bastard. You don't even have the right to look at her anymore!"

The sharp edges of the photo paper cut across my brow bone, gently fluttering down onto the expensive carpet.

"Half an hour ago, the transatlantic flight to Zurich broke apart and crashed into the ocean." Grandpa’s voice violently shook.

And on the first page of the casualty list, clear as day, was the name—

Elowen Hale.