Chapter 2

Viya's POV

Sophia arrived at Moonlight Bar like a storm wearing red lipstick and designer heels.

She spotted me in the corner booth, took one look at the whiskey in my hand, and slid into the seat across from me without asking.

She pulled out her tablet, already tapping away with manicured nails. "I've been drafting your divorce papers since your wedding day. Call it professional intuition."

Despite everything, I managed a weak laugh. "Was I the only one who didn't see this coming?"

"Honey, you wanted to believe in the fairytale," she said, her voice softening momentarily before returning to business mode.

"I've already listened to that recording. The pack council won't be able to ignore this—not only is he cheating, but he's been deliberately poisoning your wolf. That's a capital offense in werewolf law."

"I don't want revenge," I said quietly. "I just want out."

"I know, sweetie, but you deserve compensation for what he's done," Sophia insisted, her professional persona momentarily giving way to friendship.

"Three years of your life with that asshole? The herbs he's been giving you could have permanently damaged Serena."

At the mention of my wolf, pain lanced through my chest. "She's barely responding, Sophia. She's so weak I can hardly feel her anymore."

Concern flashed across her face. "She'll recover. Wolves are resilient, especially when removing themselves from toxic bonds." She reached across the desk and squeezed my hand. "You need to see a wolf healer."

"I am a wolf healer," I reminded her with a weak smile.

She closed her tablet and glanced around the bar, noticing the staff beginning to set up something elaborate near the small stage area. "Looks like they're preparing for something."

As if on cue, the bartender announced over the sound system, "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Moonlight Bar's monthly Masquerade Night! Masks are available at the bar for those who wish to participate. Let the mystery begin!"

"Welcome to Moonlight Bar's monthly Masquerade Night! Masks are available at the bar. Let the mystery begin."

Sophia's eyes lit up.

"No." I shook my head.

"Yes."

"Sophia."

"You discovered your husband is a traitor, your sister-in-law is carrying his child, and your wolf has been drugged for months. You are allowed one dramatic mask."

I almost laughed despite myself.

She returned with two masks—silver for her, black velvet with crimson edges for me. The moment she tied it over my face, the woman in the mirror behind the bar looked different.

Sophia squeezed my shoulder. "I'll be on the dance floor. Don't disappear."

"I won't."

She gave me a look. "You always say that before emotionally disappearing for six months."

I rolled my eyes, and she left laughing.

For a while, I sat alone, letting the whiskey dull the tremor in my hands. Without Serena's usual strength, the alcohol hit harder than it should have. The room blurred at the edges. Masks moved like ghosts under violet lights.

Then the seat beside me shifted.

I did not look up at first.

Then I caught his scent.

Dark sandalwood. Cold metal. Winter smoke.

My entire body went still.

I turned slowly.

The man beside me wore a black mask, but no mask could hide those eyes—grey-blue, sharp, and impossible to forget.

Caesar Blackwood.

My former guardian. The Alpha who had taken me in after my parents died. The man I had loved before I ever understood what love could cost.

He looked at me like he had been trying not to for years.

My heartbreak, whiskey, and old longing collided into something reckless.

"Well," I said, letting my lips curve, "fancy meeting you here, stranger."

His jaw tightened. "You're drunk."

"Not enough."

"Viya."

The way he said my name almost undid me. Not Luna Wilde. Not Doctor. Not someone else's wife.

Just Viya.

I leaned closer. "Careful, stranger. You sound like you know me."

"I know enough to say you should not be alone in a bar tonight."

"Then don't leave me alone."

His eyes darkened. "Do you hear yourself?"

"Yes." I let my coat fall open just enough to reveal the crimson dress beneath. "For once, I do."

His gaze dropped for half a second, then snapped back to my face. Control radiated from him like a warning.

"You are married."

I smiled, but it hurt. "Am I?"

His fingers tightened around his glass. "That is not a game."

"No," I whispered. "Marriage was the game. I just didn't know everyone else was playing."

Something changed in his expression.

"What did Lucius do?"

The question was too direct. Too close to the wound.

I laughed softly. "Why do you care? You gave up the right to ask me questions years ago."

Pain flashed through his eyes.

"Viya—"

"No." I placed a hand on his thigh, partly to provoke him, partly because the contact steadied me. "Tonight, you're a stranger. I'm a woman who doesn't want to be sensible. Isn't that what masquerades are for?"

His breath caught.

"You have no idea what you are asking for."

"Maybe I do."

"Little wolf." His voice dropped into a growl. "Do not test me."

The old nickname hit something tender and furious inside me.

"Or what?" I challenged. "You'll reject me again? Walk away again? Pretend you don't want me again?"

His control cracked.

One moment he was still. The next, his hand was in my hair and his mouth was on mine.

The kiss was not gentle. It was years of silence breaking open. I tasted whiskey, anger, regret, and a hunger neither of us had ever buried properly. My hands fisted in his jacket. His palm held my waist as if he wanted to pull me out of my life entirely.

For one dangerous second, I let myself forget Lucius. Miranda. The recording. The poison.

Then Caesar tore himself away.

His breathing was harsh. His eyes were furious—not at me, but at himself.

"Look at me," he demanded. "Look carefully at who you are touching."