Chatper 4
Thirty thousand feet in the air, the only sound in the cabin was the steady hum of the jet engines.
The physical backlash of severing a Pack Bond ripped through me. I dug my fingers so hard into the leather armrest I thought my nails would tear right off.
"Ma'am, do you need medical assistance?" The flight attendant hovered over me, her eyes wide as she took in my deathly pale face and the cold sweat dripping down my forehead.
"No," I gritted out, forcing a tight smile. "Just get me a vodka on the rocks."
Did it hurt? Hell yes.
The agony of physically tearing my soul out of an Alpha's domination web was enough to shatter any Omega's sanity.
But honestly? I felt incredible. It was euphoric.
In my past life, I was a pathetic beggar, on my knees pleading for just a second of Caleb's affection, only to end up with silver driven through my chest. Compared to that, this bone-snapping agony was the battle cry of my rebirth!
I downed the liquor in one shot. The icy burn slid down my throat and settled in my stomach, chasing away the bone-deep chill.
Staring out the window into the pitch-black night, Caleb’s disgustingly arrogant face flashed in my mind.
Right now, he was probably standing tall, arm-in-arm with his new plaything, soaking in the worship of the entire pack. He actually thought tossing a hundred grand at me would make me cower in a corner, licking my wounds in gratitude, only to come crawling back to his manor like a good little bitch when the thirty days were up.
"Keep dreaming, Caleb," I whispered, slamming the empty glass down on the tray table. "From now on, I am my own Alpha."
To hell with pack hierarchy. To hell with fated mates.
I was going to build my own empire in the human world of New York. I was going to make sure the name Blood Moon Pack wasn't even fit to shine my damn shoes.
Meanwhile, the Blood Moon Pack house was drowning in a deafening frenzy of celebration.
Caleb stood before a full-length mirror, adjusting his black velvet bowtie.
As the Alpha of the most powerful pack in North America, tonight he would officially crown his Luna.
He pushed open his bedroom door and strode toward the staircase. But as he passed the cramped attic room at the end of the hall, his footsteps unconsciously faltered.
The door was ajar.
The room inside was pitch-black, cold, and dead silent. There wasn't even a trace of Elara's Omega scent—that timid, eager-to-please scent that usually lingered in the air.
A hollow sensation struck his chest without warning. Caleb’s brow furrowed sharply. The image of Elara sweeping that silver rabbit pendant into the trash bag last night—her eyes filled with absolute resolve and mockery—flashed in his mind.
"Childish," he scoffed, forcibly shoving down the inexplicable spike of irritation in his gut.
It was just a little girl’s jealous tantrum. Did she really think playing hide-and-seek would ruin his mood tonight?
With her pathetic savings and zero survival skills, she wouldn't last a week outside the pack house.
Once she blew through that hundred grand and got a taste of how vicious the rogues were out there, she’d come crying and crawling back, begging for his protection.
Caleb smoothed his expression, slipping back into the mask of absolute Alpha authority, and headed downstairs.
The escort convoy pulled up in front of Selena's private residence. When Selena walked toward him in that priceless, elaborate gown, a massive wave of satisfaction swelled in Caleb's chest.
This was a woman worthy of him. This was the fated Luna who would breed the strongest bloodline for his pack.
He pulled Selena into his arms, dipping his head to claim her lips in a deep, bruising kiss.
In the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a man standing at the edge of the crowd—shabbily dressed, eyes dark and brooding.
It was Selena’s childhood friend, a bottom-feeding rogue.
Noting the man's red-rimmed eyes and clenched fists, Caleb didn't hesitate. He unleashed his dominant Alpha aura, crushing it directly onto the rogue. Watching the man turn deathly pale and drop to his knees sent Caleb’s superiority complex soaring to its absolute peak.
Trash belongs in the dumpster. He wrapped an arm possessively around Selena’s waist and slid into the bridal car, leaving any lingering annoyance behind.
The coronation ceremony was a flawless, grand spectacle. Even when a few pack elders whispered among themselves, questioning why the Alpha's ward, Elara, was missing from the event, Caleb silenced their gossip with a single, ice-cold glare.
For the next two weeks, Caleb whisked Selena away to a private island for their honeymoon.
Day and night, he drowned himself in Selena’s heavy rose scent.
Just to prove exactly how insignificant Elara was, he made an overseas call to the pack's head butler, issuing a strict Alpha command: "Throw out every single piece of trash in that attic that belongs to Elara. And from now on, no one in this house is allowed to speak her name."
It wasn't until the honeymoon ended and they returned to the pack house that reality hit.
"Alpha. Luna." The butler bowed respectfully, taking their luggage.
Caleb shrugged off his coat and moved toward the sofa out of pure habit, waiting for a perfectly steeped cup of black tea to be placed in his hand.
For the last five years, no matter how late he came home, Elara was always there instantly, handing him his tea, looking at him with those big, adoring eyes.
But today, he was greeted by nothing but empty air.
Caleb’s expression darkened. "Where is Elara? Is she still throwing this tantrum? Tell her to get her ass down here right now!"
The butler flinched, cold sweat instantly soaking through the back of his shirt. "Alpha... Miss Elara took her bags and left on the night of the coronation. She... she's not in the country. She flew straight to New York."
Crash!
Caleb kicked the solid silver coffee table over. Priceless porcelain shattered across the hardwood floor.
"What did you just say?!" He lunged, grabbing the butler by the collar. His eyes flashed to a lethal, glowing gold, and his violent, suffocating pheromones exploded into the room. "Who gave her the fucking nerve to actually run?!"
His pet. His little backup toy that he could humiliate at will. She actually dared to snap her leash and leave him behind in this so-called "home"?
"Cancel all her credit cards! Revoke her pack passport privileges!" Caleb roared, his teeth bared in a snarl. "I want to see exactly how she plans to survive in New York when her month is up!"
Even then, in his blinding arrogance, Caleb believed it was only a matter of time.
However, day thirty came and went.
No overseas phone calls. No desperate, pleading emails. Elara had vanished as completely as a drop of water evaporating in the desert sun.
Day forty-five.
During an executive board meeting for the pack's timber corporation, the CFO was giving a report on Q3 profits. Caleb sat perfectly still, staring dead-eyed at the fountain pen in his hand. He hadn't turned a single page of his file in ten minutes.
"Alpha? Are you with us?" the CFO asked cautiously.
Caleb snapped out of his daze. Snarling, he ripped his tie loose. "Redo it! It's all garbage!"
He shoved his chair back violently and stormed out of the boardroom, leaving a table full of terrified executives in his wake.
When he returned to the pack house, Selena approached him carrying her pregnancy supplements. That rose scent—the one that used to drive him wild—now hit his nose like rotting sugar. It was sickening.
For the first time ever, he didn't stop to coddle her. He brushed past her with a dismissive wave and took the stairs two at a time, heading straight for the top floor.
He kicked the attic door open.
The maids had followed his orders to the letter. The room was stripped bare. No squeaky bed, no old desk. Even the curtains had been torn down. It was so empty it couldn't even hold an echo.
A cold, alien spike of panic suddenly crawled up the base of Caleb's spine.
He stood in the dead center of the vacant room, his breathing shallow and quick. Shattering his own vow of never reaching out first, his trembling hand pulled out his phone. He dialed the number he knew entirely by heart.
Ring...
Caleb held his breath. He already had his opening line ready—the most vicious, venomous words he could think of to put her back in her place.
But the voice that came through the speaker wasn't Elara's cold, defiant tone. It was the dead, automated voice of an operator:
"We're sorry, the number you have dialed is no longer in service."
