Emily’s POV

The air in the room tasted like copper and old lies.

Every snarled word, every guttural, wolf-drenched confession vibrated in my bones. "I own you, Alina." "After I marry Emily, I’m taking you back." "I love her... but I love you, too."

The words looped in my mind, jagged and sharp. Inside me, my wolf whimpered, tucking her tail and curling into a shivering ball. She had sensed the shadow he carried, the cold gap between us that no amount of wedding planning could fill. I had blamed the pack, the stress of his title, the weight of the crown.

I was a fool. My fingernails bit into my palms, drawing blood.

"Aiden!"

The scream tore out of my throat. He spun, and for a heartbeat, raw panic shattered his Alpha mask. His stormy gray eyes widened, darting toward the door as if looking for an escape.

"Emily—" He took a step forward, the soles of his boots grinding broken glass into the floor. "This isn’t... It’s not what it looks like."

"You what, Aiden?" My voice cracked. Tears blurred my vision, turning the room into a smear of gray and gold. "I heard it all. You love her." I choked on a sob, the betrayal burning like acid. "After everything I did? I waited, Aiden. I waited for you while you were married to her. I sacrificed my pride, my time—and this is how you pay me back?"

He reached out, his fingers brushing my arm, but I recoiled as if his touch were fire. I shoved him back, my chest heaving. Then, I turned my gaze to Alina.

She was watching. Silent. I could see the triumph in her eyes—the twisted joy of a woman who had finally lured the Alpha back to her side.

"You’re happy, aren’t you?" I snarled, stepping into her space. "This is exactly what you wanted."

Before she could part her lips to answer, I swung. My palm connected with her cheek with a crack that echoed off the ruined walls. "Aiden is mine, you pathetic bitch!"

Alina didn’t stumble. She didn’t cry. Instead, before I could even pull my hand back, her arm blurred. Smack.

The force of her slap sent my head snapping to the side. I gasped, clutching my burning cheek, my eyes wide with shock. A mere human—a shopkeeper—had dared to strike me?

"How dare you," she said, her voice a low, vibrating hum of fury. "You come in here, after your fiancé said those disgusting things, and you think you can hit me? You think I’ll just take it?"

She stepped closer, her shadow falling over me. "You’re both crazy. Delusional. I walked out of your lives. You got engaged. Why can’t I just have my own happiness?"

I clenched my fists so hard my arms shook. "You dare slap me?"

"You slapped me first, Emily," she shot back, her voice cold and exhausted. She looked around at the shattered remains of her life’s work. "As you can see, my shop is ruined. I have more pressing issues than your drama."

She gave us one last look—a look of pure, unadulterated disgust—and walked out into the street, leaving the door swinging on its hinges.

"Emily, I promise you, I don’t even know what I was saying."

Aiden grabbed my hands, his palms sweaty. "You know I love you. We’re engaged, okay?" He searched my face, desperation leaking into his voice. "Don’t take any of that seriously. I only said those things to make her life a living hell. I don’t love her. I swear."

His eyes were flat, devoid of the sincerity he was trying so hard to fake. But I didn’t care about his heart—I only cared about his title.

"I’m heartbroken, Aiden," I whispered, my voice trembling just enough. I pulled my hands back, letting them drop listlessly to my sides. "I don’t think we should go through with this. Not after today."

"No!" He stepped closer, his scent of pine and musk overwhelming. "I won’t call it off. I made a mistake, and I’ll fix it. We’ll get married in a week. I’ll bring the date forward."

A thrill shot through me, sharper than any heartbreak. A week. My job was working. Soon, the pack would bow to me.

"You promise?" I asked, making my eyes wide and swimming with feigned pain.

"I promise. Please, just forgive me." He pulled me into a crushingly tight hug. "I’m so sorry."

Over his shoulder, I let my mask slip, rolling my eyes at the ceiling. When he pulled away, however, I was the picture of a grieving fiancée again.

"Let’s go home," he muttered.

The drive was silent. Once back at the pack house, I sank onto the edge of my bed, my mind racing. In seven days, I would have everything.

We deserve this power, my wolf purred, pacing circles in my mind. And we’ll make Alina pay. She’ll crawl. She’ll beg. I’ll make her regret every time she dared to touch us.

A buzz from my nightstand broke my thoughts. I swiped the screen, and my heart did a frantic, traitorous flip.

Lucian.

The message was brief, naming the old ruins where we used to sneak away during our affair. Part of me sensed a trap, but the rest of me—the part that Aiden couldn’t satisfy—ached for him. I needed the fire Lucian brought.

I stood up, smoothed my dress, and pulled open the door.

Aiden stood there like a wall of solid muscle, his hand raised as if he’d been about to knock. His stormy eyes narrowed.

"Where are you going?"

I needed a lie, and I needed it fast. My pulse hammered against my ribs, what should I do?

I swallowed hard, forcing my expression to soften into a mask of fragile exhaustion. "I can’t stay in this room, Aiden. The walls feel like they’re closing in on me," I whispered, resting a trembling hand on his chest. "I just need some fresh air in the moonlight to think."

He searched my eyes, his grip on the doorframe tightening until the wood groaned. For a second, I feared he could hear my heart drumming Lucian’s name.