Chapter 5

Estelle's POV

I crossed to the sofa and deliberately chose the seat farthest from them.

I released no scent at all, yet the temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees.

Among wolves, silence can cut deeper than pheromones.

Melody practically glued herself to Cassius's side, wrapping both arms around his, her scent cloyingly sweet. "Cassius, shall we finish our chess game?"

He frowned faintly and eased his arm from her grasp. His gaze, however, settled on me.

That look—I knew it too well.

Once, it had belonged to me. Now, it lingered out of nothing more than habit.

"Miss Miller, do you play chess?" Melody asked with a pleasant smile, though challenge edged her tone.

I glanced at the board.

Rosewood. Lacquered pieces.

But the arrangement was childish—more like a training exercise for young wolves than a real match.

Memories surfaced at the worst possible moment.

Countless nights when Cassius had stayed up with me until dawn, playing game after game.

He would deliberately let me win, chuckling when I grew frustrated, then bowing his head to kiss my fingertips when I claimed victory.

Now, he wouldn't indulge me at all.

"I do," I replied evenly. "Would you like to play?"

The Alpha's scent in the air tightened abruptly.

It was a warning.

But I ignored it.

The game began quickly.

Melody moved with restless speed, her scent sharp with ambition—like a young wolf desperate to prove herself.

I, on the other hand, placed my pieces slowly. One here. One there. No apparent pattern.

Lyra wore a satisfied expression—that familiar air of bloodline superiority.

But the board was shifting.

Each time Melody neared what she thought was victory, I quietly blocked her.

Once.

Twice.

The third time.

Her scent turned erratic—like a cub realizing the trap too late.

"Your move," I murmured.

She leaned forward, a triumphant smile already forming. "I'm winning—"

I slid one piece almost lazily across the board. "Checkmate."

The room went still.

Melody's face drained of color.

"I was one move away!" she protested, attempting to continue as though the rules didn't apply.

I regarded her calmly, as one might a young wolf who doesn't yet understand territorial law. "Then may I continue as well?"

I reset the board.

Another victory.

Game three.

Game four.

Game five.

I didn't end them quickly.

I was training her.

Slowly closing in. Gradually tightening the circle. Letting her believe she still had a chance—before dismantling her completely.

By the end, she was crying. Her scent dissolved into chaos—resentment, anger, the instinctive plea for protection.

"Enough." Cassius rose abruptly.

Alpha pressure surged outward. The air thickened, nearly crushing the lungs.

Melody threw herself into his arms.

Lyra's voice cut through the tension, cold and reproachful. "It's just a game. Why make it about winning?"

Their voices began to fade, as though I were hearing them through water.

I looked at Cassius.

The face that once made my heart race now felt like an old photograph—faded, blurred, no longer familiar.

"Enough," I thought.

With one sweep of my arm, I sent the pieces scattering across the floor.

I stood up.

A few drops of blood landed on the board.

Only then did I notice my nails had pierced my palms.

Wolves didn't cry. We bleed.

"Estelle!" Cassius's voice cracked—for the first time, edged with panic.

But in the next second, Melody clung tighter, her scent anchoring him in place.

He did not move.

Good.

I turned and walked out of the estate.

Rain poured down. The forest fell silent. The mountain road wound endlessly ahead.

My phone vibrated again and again.

It was Cassius.

I blocked him without hesitation, then sent Lyra a message:

[Fifteen billion. Not a cent less. Or the Thunderclaw Pack will pay.]

The rain intensified.

Headlights pierced the downpour like blades through mist.

At the bend in the road, an unfamiliar scent struck me—rot, wildness, disorder.

A Rogue.

My wolf surged instantly.

The next second, a black SUV shot from behind and slammed into me without slowing.

Metal shrieked.

The impact was violent. The steering wheel spun wildly in my grip. The rear end fishtailed, tires screaming against pavement. The sharp scent of blood flooded the air.

This wasn't an accident.

It was a hunt.

The SUV reversed, engine roaring—preparing to strike again.

My wolf roared inside me, but its reaction lagged half a beat, drained by the emotional storm still clawing at my chest.

Then—

A presence descended.

Cold. Vast. Deep as the ocean beneath midnight skies. Powerful enough to make the air itself yield.

The Rogue's scent faltered.

A black car approached soundlessly and positioned itself with precise efficiency, blocking the SUV's path.

The door opened.

A man stepped out.

Tall. Commanding. Features sharp and impassive. His presence restrained—yet oppressive enough to make one instinctively lower their gaze.

His Alpha aura wasn't completely unleashed.

But it was already enough to make the Rogue hesitate.

Just one second.

The man lifted his eyes and fixed them on him.

Inside me, my wolf surged forward—not in fear, not in caution, but in recognition.

As though a long-sealed latch had been gently touched.

His scent carried on the rain-soaked wind—cedar, stone after rain, and a subtle trace of sandalwood.

It tightened my chest.

My wolf gave a low, aching growl.

Not aggression, but longing.

I froze.

"Impossible. We had never formally met." I thought.

Then memory struck—

It was the man in the elevator.

The man approached the Rogue. No wasted movement. No words. Only a quiet release of pressure.

The Rogue turned pale and fled.

Rain streamed down the stranger's dark hair as he turned toward me.

Something deep in my chest—something buried for too long—vibrated softly.

Not Cassius's blazing possessiveness.

Something steadier. Inevitable. Like an ancient call rising from the forest floor.

He removed his suit jacket and handed it to the middle-aged guard beside him.

"For her."

His voice was low, controlled, stripped of emotion—yet absolute in its authority.

The jacket settled over my shoulders, still warm.

His scent intensified.

My wolf surged toward it, uncontrollable.

My pulse quickened—not from the crash, but from him.

Police sirens cut through the rain, blue and red lights flashing across wet asphalt.

I remained composed as I gave my statement.

The guard handled everything efficiently, with the discipline of a powerful pack.

The man stayed at a distance. He did not approach.

But his gaze never left me.

It wasn't predatory.

It was assessing. Confirming I was unharmed.

And I realized—

Since the moment he appeared, the restless storm inside me had quieted.

It was not suppressed, but soothed.

The way only a destined mate can soothe it.

I refused to think further.

When everything was settled, I said quietly, "Thank you."

He inclined his head once.

Rain drummed steadily against the pavement. My heartbeat was louder.

The middle-aged guard stepped forward, posture straight, voice measured.

"Miss, would you like me to take you to the hospital?"