Chapter 3

Eric Jones?

To fool me and just to avenge his wife, he’d fabricated a fake identity, a fake name.

I forced myself up, wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth, dusted off my clothes… and walked home like a machine.

Avery said stiffly, “You’re just leaving like that?”

Ryan looked at my swollen face with distain. “Rory, why don’t you thank Mr. Jones? If he hadn’t stepped in, you’d be dead or crippled.”

I tilted my head, my gaze landing on Avery’s handsome face.

Thank him for what?

For his ‘love’ turned out to be a lie which made me lose my home?

Or for turning me from a sheltered socialite into a whore?

The day he threw me at Henry’s feet, it was Henry’s patrol day.

I wouldn’t stop bleeding. Henry could only lower his head, press a kiss to the back of my neck…

Bite down, break skin and brand me with his mate mark.

My chaotic scent finally calmed.

And only then did I realize the truth: Henry was my fated mate.

After the baby was born, Henry soothed my restless, spiraling instincts again and again.

I thought I’d drown in those emerald-green eyes of his.

But the human scent on me and the fact that Henry hadn’t patrolled on schedule was exposed anyway.

We were thrown out of the Pack.

It seemed as if I were really pondering this serious question, then chuckled softly, “Yeah, I should thank Eric properly. Too bad you think I’m dirty. Otherwise I’d sleep with you for free a few nights.”

Avery’s face flushed crimson. He blurted out,

“Elara, is sex all you think about? Have you got any shame?”

I snorted coldly, my stomach churning.

Anyone else could call me shameless.

But Avery didn’t have the right.

He was the one who threw me at Henry’s feet and ground my dignity into dust.

Every time I flirted on purpose with those men, I’d think if Henry hadn’t saved me back then, if he’d let me die…

Wouldn’t that have been better than living like this?

At least I wouldn’t have dragged him down with me, gotten us both kicked out of the Pack.

I lost the patience to argue and didn’t want to waste another second on him. Calmly, I said,

“Call me Rory. Avery and Elara both died ten years ago.”

Avery clenched his fists, his knuckles going pale.

After a long moment, he ground out through his teeth,

“Fine. Rory. I never should’ve saved you.”

I lifted the hair by my ear, my tone seductive, covering my mouth and smiling

“Next time, don’t. Don’t let a whore ruin the image of a powerful man like you.”

Then I turned and walked away without looking back.

I walked all the way to the end of the road and slipped into a narrow alley.

When I saw our tiny, squat little house, I pulled myself together.

I forced a smile. “I’m home.”

My daughter, Ava, ran out and threw her arms around me.

Maybe I looked too wrecked, because she burst into tears.

“What happened to you?”

I patted her head. “It’s okay. I just tripped. Can you believe it? Mom’s this grown and I still fall all the time.”

Henry came out leaning on a cane. Those emerald-green eyes of his looked darker than they used to.

“I’ll run you a bath,” he said softly. “Go wash up.”

I stepped closer, looped my arms around his neck, and brushed my lips against his.

He flinched back on instinct. I grabbed him and pinned him in place.

My lashes lowered. “What? Do you think I’m dirty?”

His whole body froze. I leaned in and kissed him again, harder this time.

“Back then, it was to save you,” his voice shook, “but I’m still your father.”

“So what?” I curled my lip like I couldn’t care less.

Then I turned to Ava at the side. “Go on. Call him Dad.”

Ava smiled sweetly. “Daddy.”

I let him go and turned toward that cramped little bathroom.

Behind me, Henry’s voice followed, rough and urgent. “Don’t go after Eric…”

“Don't worry about that.” My tone cooled without me meaning to. “I can handle him myself.”