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Dylan playfully pinched the tip of her nose.
“Whatever my little troublemaker wants, she gets.”
Since I had to head back for my luggage anyway, I went along with Sophia’s so–called “kindness“.
Inside the sleek black SUV, it didn’t take long to find what Sophia had sent me looking for–a still–damp lace thong, wedged deep between the seat cushions.
“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me! Dylan, didn’t you say you got rid of this shit already?!”
Sophia giggled, burying her face in his chest as she slapped his shoulder, laughing like it was all just one big joke.
Dylan chuckled too, half–apologetic, sneaking glances at my face.
But when he realized I didn’t even blink, the same frustration that had sparked at the hospital came roaring back to life.
“You’ve been glued to your phone the whole damn ride,” he snapped, voice tight with jealousy. “Texting your cousin? Or
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someone else I don’t know about?”
After booking my flight, I locked my screen and answered coolly,
“Just checking the news.”
My indifference only made Dylan’s scowl deepen.
Then–like a predator striking–he snatched my phone out of my
hand.
“What’s the password?”
“My birthday.”
Nine fucking years of marriage.
And he couldn’t even remember that.
After several wrong guesses, the phone auto–locked with a soft, final click.
The rest of the drive was buried in heavy, suffocating silence.
When we finally pulled up, Dylan rushed to carry a nauseated Sophia upstairs to their bedroom, treating her like she was made of glass.
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Of course, he still found the time to bark orders at the chef, making damn sure all her favorite dishes were being prepared.
When he came back downstairs, he spotted me dragging my suitcase alone toward the guest room.
“Set three places,” he suddenly told the chef. “And make a couple dishes the way Elena used to like.”
Guest Room.
I unzipped my suitcase–only to find every piece of clothing inside shredded beyond repair.
Thank fuck my IDs and important documents were buried deep enough not to get touched.
I packed what little I could save and was just about to leave when Sophia appeared, leaning lazily against the doorframe, swirling a black bottle in her hand.
“Elena,” she sneered, giving me a slow, mocking once–over, “gotta say, you’re even more pathetic than I thought.”
“The whole damn pack’s laughing at you, and here you are, clinging to Dylan like some mutt.”
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Her smile was pure venom.
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“But hey, with that old bastard of a grandfather finally kicking it last month, who do you even have left? Without him pulling strings for you, how the hell do you think you’re gonna survive without Dylan?”
She leaned in close, her voice dripping with fake sympathy.
“Remember how you begged Dylan to take you to see your dying grandma? Wanna know why he said no?”
“Because that night–he promised he’d watch the sunset with
me.”
“And here-” she said, shoving her phone into my face with a sick little grin, “this kissing pic? Snapped that very night.”
Crack.
Her phone hit the floor.
I snapped.
My hand shot out, wrapping around her throat.
The black bottle tumbled from her hand, shattering against the floor, and a sharp, choking reek of gasoline filled the room.
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In her panic, Sophia stumbled straight into a nearby candle.
Whoosh.
Flames roared to life instantly.
Thick smoke churned, swallowing everything in seconds.
My body, still weak, gave out.
I collapsed to my knees, coughing so hard it felt like my lungs
would tear apart.
And then-
“Elena!”
Dylan’s voice ripped through the chaos, followed by the panicked shouts of the servants.
“Alpha, it’s too dangerous! Wait for the extinguishers-!”
“Get the fuck outta my way! Elena’s still inside!”
He stormed into the inferno-
But the second he saw Sophia, he froze.
“Dylan… save me…” Sophia whimpered.
i
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Without hesitation, Dylan scooped her into his arms and walked
right past me.
Didn’t even look down.
Didn’t even fucking blink.
Thirty minutes later.
Once Sophia was safe, Dylan tore through the estate, desperate to find me.
But by then, I was already gone.
Late Night. Airport.
Coughing into my sleeve, tasting blood, I boarded a flight to Silver Moon Pack.
up:
Before takeoff, I mailed out one last package.
Just before the plane rumbled down the runway, a text popped
[Don’t play hide and seek with me.
Tomorrow at ten, Sophia’s got a prenatal appointment at the Pack hospital.
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You’re coming too–might as well get that lung of yours checked while you’re at it.]
I didn’t reply.
I pulled the SIM card out of my phone and shut it down.
Alpha Dylan Blackwood-
We’re done.
The Next Day, at the Pack Hospital
“Dylan… is our baby okay?” Sophia asked, her eyes swollen and red from crying.
He pulled her into a gentle hug, his voice low and soothing. “The baby’s fine. Doctor said the fire didn’t affect it at all.”
“Thank the Goddess,” she breathed out, her shoulders sagging with relief. Then, noticing the tightness in his expression, she hesitated. “You’ve been off all morning… did something happen?”
Her innocent question hit Dylan harder than it should have.
Without warning, an image seared through his mind–my cold,
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dead–eyed stare burning into him from within the flames.
He scowled and yanked his phone from his pocket, opening his email again.
Still nothing.
Not a goddamn word from Elena.
The silence gnawed at him, clawing under his skin, making his temper simmer just beneath the surface.
The irony was fucking cruel–back then, no matter how he
neglected me, I would always jump to reply the second he reached out. Like a fucking fool.
But now…
Now she was the one leaving him in the cold.
A bitter laugh escaped him before he could stop it.
He forced himself to pull it together, putting on a mask of patience as he walked Sophia out of the obstetrics wing, sat through a quiet lunch with her, and personally drove her home.
Only after that did he finally head back to the packhouse.
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The moment he stepped into the Alpha’s office, his Beta rushed up to him, keeping his voice low.
“Alpha Dylan, the Old Alpha’s back. He’s called for all the pack leaders to meet in Conference Room One. Right now.”
Dylan arched a brow, his face unreadable. Without missing a beat, he pivoted and headed down the hall. As he walked, he barked out a clipped order:
“Grab a few of the latest designer bags. Throw in some trendy jewelry, too.”
“Yes, my Alpha. I’ll have them delivered to Elena’s place.”
Dylan’s steps slowed. He pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, exhaling hard.
“Send them to the old Silverstone house,” he corrected.
In his mind, it was simple–if Elena had walked away from Blackwood Manor, there was only one place she would’ve run to.
Home.
