Chapter 7

Fiona's POV

I snapped the suitcase shut, yanked the zipper closed, and dragged it toward the closet in the corner of the room. Heavy winter coats hung inside, and I struggled to shove the case as far back as possible, burying it beneath the layers of fabric.

Just then, the doorknob turned.

I hadn't locked it—which would have looked even more suspicious.

Spinning around, I forced myself to steady my breathing and stood in the center of the room, still clutching the sweater I'd just folded.

The door swung open.

Arthur stood in the doorway, his deep gray eyes appearing especially unfathomable in the dim light—like stagnant water, betraying no emotion whatsoever.

"What are you doing?" He swept his gaze around the room before finally settling it on me.

"Organizing my clothes." I kept my voice as level as possible.

He walked in slowly, his leather shoes clicking against the wooden floor with a sound that made my heart race. He approached until he stood directly before me, close enough that I could barely breathe.

His eyes studied my cheek, where there should have been a searing scar but which now, amid the tangle of disheveled red hair and dried blood, appeared smooth and unblemished.

He narrowed his eyes.

I hurried to explain: "It's the golden wolf blood—the drop Caleb gave me. It really was effective."

"Was it?"

His skeptical gaze traveled over my entire body before he reached out his hand. His fingertips brushed lightly across my cheek, pausing at the spot where I'd been injured.

"Doesn't hurt at all anymore?"

His fingers were ice-cold, and I couldn't help but flinch.

"Still... actually, it still hurts a little," I said, forcing the words out.

Arthur stared at my face and spoke slowly: "I wonder what your face would have rotted into without that expensive drop of golden wolf blood."

My entire body went rigid, my fists clenching at my sides as my heartbeat accelerated in waves of panic. "I don't know what you're talking about, Uncle. Werewolves fear silver weapons most of all—that's common knowledge."

"Is it?" Arthur echoed thoughtfully, though the suspicion in his eyes didn't diminish in the slightest.

I was terrified—terrified he would see through the secret I was hiding, terrified he would discover that my healing ability far exceeded what that single drop of golden wolf blood could provide. Knowing Arthur as I did, I couldn't even imagine what kind of hell this ruthless, calculating businessman would throw me into once he realized I possessed powerful golden wolf bloodline.

I kept my head down, my hands gripping my skirt tightly.

"Uncle, if there's nothing else, I'd like to rest now."

"Yes, you should rest well. It's getting late, after all. Tomorrow you have an important banquet to attend, and you'll need to be at your best to appear as Professor Thorne's most proper fiancée."

Arthur placed the thin invitation card, which carried the scent of sandalwood, into my hand and informed me that outside the door sat a sheepskin trunk containing an elaborate gown Caleb had specially prepared for me.

"Compared to the clothes in that battered black suitcase of yours, it will make you shine at the banquet."

I instinctively glanced at the black suitcase I'd just packed, my heart feeling as though it had been plunged into boiling water and rolled around violently.

Arthur had those shrewd, calculating eyes—he'd figured out I was planning to flee.

"Uncle," I insisted on my position, "I'll say it again: I will not marry Caleb. What happened in the library auditorium today was my formal declaration of war against him. There's no way I'm going to attend some aristocratic banquet with him the day after publicly humiliating my fiancé, acting as if nothing happened."

The clock struck twelve, its chimes dull and heavy, like echoes from ancient times.

Arthur's eyes narrowed. "Fiona, it's already the next day. Why not let yesterday's events pass? I'm sure your fiancé has sufficient ability to make this incident disappear quickly from people's gossip, and that student Emily will pay the price she deserves. No one will remember—"

"I will remember!" I cut Arthur off sharply. "I know, Uncle. I know, and I can't convince myself to pretend I don't. Caleb's betrayal is a fact, and no matter what shameless excuse he has, I can't imagine looking at that face in the future and saying 'I do' without feeling sick enough to vomit!"

"You've made up your mind?"

The false patience drained from Arthur's face, leaving only cold, calculating ruthlessness in those deep gray eyes.

"Yes."

I pulled the black suitcase out of the closet decisively and looked at Arthur with determination. "Uncle, I'm leaving."

I told him, word by word: "Ten years ago, both my parents disappeared, and you brought me back here, providing me with shelter that never felt like home. I'm grateful you didn't leave me, a minor, to wander the streets, but that's not a reason for me to willingly let you use me for the rest of my life."

"Where do you plan to go?"

Arthur rubbed the oak cane in his hand, his eyes taking on layer after layer of deepening gray.

"The library? That forbidden place reeking of ancient decay?"

He stepped toward me and suddenly grabbed my chin. "Look at me, Fiona! Do you think I don't know anything? The filthy mixed blood flowing through your veins—only a place like that can calm your frenzied agitation. You're afraid of becoming a monster, aren't you?"

I staggered back two steps in shock, struggling to wrench his hand away.

"You—"

I stared at him in disbelief, countless thoughts rising in my mind only to be cast one by one into a pitch-black abyss.

He knew my secret?

He knew I needed to hide in the library to calm the uncontrollable agitation?

But did he know that the maternal blood in my veins was the very golden wolf bloodline that tens of thousands pursued so desperately?

No, he couldn't know—otherwise, how could he have let me live freely all these years?

He definitely didn't know!

I prayed inwardly, using a submissive gaze to hide my deepest secret.

"Uncle, I just don't want to hurt anyone!"

"Then you should understand that everything I'm doing is for your own good. A mixed-blood werewolf's uncontrollable power could tear apart your frail body at any moment. Only the Thorne family's powerful symbiotic force can provide the protection you're destined to need."

Arthur was skilled at packaging his selfishness as something so noble. He didn't mention a word about his deal with Caleb, unaware that more than an hour ago, I'd heard every word of their conversation crystal clear.

But I couldn't expose him anymore.

Because Arthur said: "If you insist on breaking off your engagement with Caleb, you will permanently lose your right to work at Saint Maria Library."

My eyes widened, my voice trembling with fear and anxiety. "What did you say?"

Arthur stroked his beard smugly. "Oh, you probably don't know yet. Saint Maria Library houses tens of thousands of documents and artworks requiring enormous funds for restoration. If I, as a shareholder, hadn't intervened, do you think you'd have been able to land such a cushy position?"

In that moment, I finally understood.

Arthur was threatening me with my library job—if I refused to marry Caleb, he would use his authority to bar me forever from the Silver Moon Restricted Section.

Without the barrier's protection to calm my bloodline's agitation, I would sooner or later be branded as an out-of-control mixed breed, thrown onto Madman's Island with others like me, or reduced to a female slave to be bought and sold at underground werewolf gatherings.

"I'm giving you one night to think it over."

Arthur kicked the suitcase toward me triumphantly. "Either put on that gown and wait for your fiancé to pick you up, or jump out that window and wait for the Werewolf Association's cleaners to execute you on the spot when you lose control!"