Chapter 3

Selene's POV

The call ended.

The screen went black, reflecting my own distorted, tear-stained face back at me.

That was it.

There was no turning back now.

No second chances.

No path where I stayed and tried to salvage the ashes of a life that had already burned to the ground.

I drew a slow, shaky breath, the air ragged in my throat. I wiped the tears from my face with the back of my hand, smearing the mascara, not caring anymore.

Then, with trembling fingers, I opened the car door.

The morning air was cool against my skin, a stark contrast to the feverish heat of my grief. It smelled of dew and pine, a world continuing its cycle as if mine hadn't just ended.

I looked toward the Alpha House.

Just yesterday...

Yesterday, I had walked through those doors believing I was going to marry the man I loved.

I had carried food, hope, and a future in my hands.

Today, I was walking back inside to collect the pieces of a life that no longer belonged to me.

To pack up the remnants of a dream that had turned into a nightmare.

My legs felt heavy, as if they were made of lead, each step a battle against the gravity of my own despair.

I made my way across the driveway, the gravel crunching under my feet, the sound harsh and final.

The guards standing near the entrance lowered their heads when they saw me.

Their eyes avoided mine, fixed on the ground, on their boots, on anything but my face.

None of them spoke.

None of them met my eyes.

None of them offered a word of comfort or explanation.

They knew.

Whether they had heard the rumors, seen the cars, witnessed the aftermath of what happened inside those walls, or simply sensed the shift in the air—it didn't matter.

They knew.

And their silence was a betrayal of its own.

I climbed the steps and pushed open the front door.

The house was quiet.

Painfully, unnervingly quiet.

It wasn't the peaceful silence of an empty home.

It was the silence of a crime scene.

Of a place where something precious had been destroyed.

I walked upstairs without looking around.

I didn't want to see the photos on the walls, the furniture we had chosen, the memories that now felt like lies.

There was nothing downstairs worth remembering.

Nothing that wouldn't break me further.

When I stepped into the bedroom, I stopped.

The bed had been changed.

Fresh white sheets.

Fresh pillowcases.

The room smelled of bleach and cleaning products.

As though what had happened there yesterday had never happened at all.

As though the betrayal, the pain, the destruction of my soul could be wiped away with a simple change of linens.

A bitter, hollow smile tugged at my lips, tasting like bile.

Some stains could be washed away.

Others... others never would.

They soaked into the very foundation of this place, into my memory, into my heart.

I walked straight into the dressing room, my eyes dry now, burned out from the night's tears.

Two large suitcases sat neatly beneath the shelves, waiting.

I pulled them out, the wheels scraping against the floor, a harsh sound in the silence.

I unzipped them.

There was no point taking everything.

No point in taking the clothes he had bought me, the gifts he had given me, the things that represented us.

There was no us.

There never had been.

Only what belonged to me.

My clothes.

My laptop.

My passport.

The framed photograph of my parents, their smiling faces a reminder of a love that was real, that didn't end in betrayal.

The worn stuffed rabbit my mother had given me before she died, the only thing I had left of her touch.

My grandmother's necklace, a family heirloom that held no memory of him.

Dad's birthday bracelet, a symbol of a different kind of love, one that didn't break promises.

Nothing else.

Every item I folded into the suitcase felt like closing another door.

Like burying a part of myself.

Like admitting defeat.

But it wasn't defeat.

It was survival.

When I reached for the bedside drawer, my fingers paused.

My heart gave a painful thump.

Inside lay a small velvet box.

Empty.

The engagement ring was gone.

A quiet, bitter laugh escaped me, echoing in the empty room.

Of course it was.

I'd left it behind.

Exactly where it belonged.

With the lies.

With the broken promises.

With the man who had chosen someone else over me.

An hour passed before the second suitcase finally clicked shut.

The sound was final.

A period at the end of a sentence I never wanted to write.

I straightened, pressing a hand against the ache in my lower back, the physical pain a small distraction from the agony in my chest.

I hadn't realized how exhausting packing up a life could be.

How much energy it took to dismantle a future.

Wrapping my fingers around the suitcase handles, I pulled them toward the door.

I didn't look around the room.

I didn't look at the bed, the window, the space where we had once laughed.

I dragged the suitcases out of the bedroom.

The wheels scraped softly against the wooden floor, the sound echoing through the empty hallway, a funeral march for my heart.

I didn't look back.

There was nothing left for me in that room.

Nothing worth taking except what was already inside these suitcases.

Nothing worth remembering.

I made my way downstairs.

Each step felt heavier than the last, as if the house itself was trying to hold me back, or perhaps I was just dragging the weight of my shattered dreams with me.

By the time I reached the front door, my palms were sore from gripping the handles so tightly, my knuckles white.

I reached for the door, my hand on the knob, ready to leave this nightmare behind forever.

Suddenly, a deep rumble rolled through Blackwood Territory.

I frowned, my hand freezing on the door.

Engines.

Several of them.

Large, powerful engines.

The sound grew louder, vibrating through the floor, until it pulled everyone's attention toward the main gate.

Even the air seemed to shift, charged with an unexpected tension.

Curiosity, sharp and instinctive, made me step outside instead of leaving.

I needed to know what was happening.

Four black luxury SUVs entered the territory in perfect formation.

They moved without haste, yet with an authority that commanded attention.

Every warrior in the courtyard stopped what they were doing.

Conversations died instantly.

Training came to an abrupt halt.

Even the guards standing watch instinctively straightened, their postures rigid, their eyes wide with alarm.

The convoy came to a smooth, silent stop in front of the Alpha House.

Silence settled over the courtyard, thick and heavy.

No one moved.

No one spoke.

One of the bodyguards climbed out first.

Dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, his expression unreadable, he walked to the rear passenger door of the second SUV and opened it.

Then he stepped aside, bowing his head slightly.

A pair of white golf shoes appeared on the gravel.

Dark, tailored trousers.

Then the man himself stepped out.

A fitted black golf shirt stretched across broad shoulders and a powerful chest, the fabric expensive and immaculate.

The sleeves stopped above his elbows, revealing muscular forearms.

Thick veins traced beneath bronzed skin while black ink disappeared beneath the sleeves of his shirt, hinting at tattoos hidden from sight, secrets kept in ink.

He straightened to his full height.

Tall.

Broad.

Intimidating.

Every movement was calm.

Every step deliberate.

He radiated power, not through aggression, but through sheer presence.

Dark hair was neatly swept back from a face I'd seen countless times on magazine covers, business interviews, and news reports.

A face associated with wealth, influence, and danger.

Lucien Drakon.

The billionaire who built one of the world's largest business empires before most people reached the peak of their careers.

A man whose name alone carried influence that could crush nations.

A man who operated in shadows I couldn't even imagine.

Photographs had captured his face.

They had never captured his presence.

They hadn't shown the way the air seemed to crackle around him, the way the world itself seemed to hold its breath in his presence.

There was something unsettling about the way he walked.

Not arrogant.

Not loud.

Simply... certain.

As though the world naturally moved aside for him.

And somehow... it did.

No one blocked his path.

No one dared.

The warriors, the guards, the entire pack, they all stepped back, creating a wide berth, their eyes lowered, their instincts screaming danger.

His gaze settled on me the moment he stepped away from the SUV.

It never drifted.

Not to the warriors watching.

Not to the Alpha House.

Not to the people whispering his name in fear and awe.

Only me.

His eyes, golden and intense, locked onto mine.

My breath caught in my throat.

My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic rhythm of fear and confusion.

He stopped in front of me.

Close enough for me to notice the faint scent of cedarwood and something crisp I couldn't place, a scent that was entirely his own, overpowering the smell of the pack, of Kieran, of my pain.

For several long seconds...

Neither of us spoke.

The silence stretched, taut and dangerous.

Then his deep voice broke the silence, low and resonant, carrying effortlessly across the courtyard.

"I've come to take my bride home."

The words drifted across the courtyard, final and absolute.

Every conversation stopped.

Every pair of eyes turned toward us, wide with shock.

"What did you just say?" Kieran's voice sliced through the silence ,, filled with a rage I had never seen directed at anyone but me.

I turned.

He strode out of the Alpha House, Lyra hurrying after him, clutching his arm.

Confusion clouded his face as his gaze shifted from Lucien... to me... then to the suitcases at my feet.

"I'm afraid you've made a mistake, Mr. Drakon," Kieran said, his tone respectful, but wary, his body tense, ready for a fight he couldn't win. "Selene isn't your bride. She's my fiancée."

Then ,Lucien looked at him.

There was no anger in his eyes.

No challenge.

No emotion at all.

Just a cold, terrifying certainty.

"She is now."

The four words landed with quiet certainty, a declaration that shifted the very ground beneath us.

Kieran stared at him.

Then at me.

His face was a mask of disbelief and growing panic.

"What is he talking about, Selene?" he demanded, his voice rising. "What is this?"

I opened my mouth.

Nothing came out.

Everything had happened so fast.

I couldn't speak, couldn't think, couldn't breathe.

Lucien's gaze returned to me.

His voice softened only slightly, a subtle shift that was somehow more terrifying than his coldness.

"You're exhausted."

Before I could understand what he meant, before I could react, one arm slipped beneath my knees while the other settled around my back.

The world tilted.

A startled gasp escaped my lips as my feet left the ground.

My fingers instinctively caught the front of his shirt, clutching the expensive fabric.

His body was warm.

Solid.

Effortlessly strong.

It was as though I weighed nothing at all.

As though I was made of glass he was afraid to break.

One of the men behind him stepped forward, collecting my suitcases without a word, moving with the same silent efficiency as his master.

Lucien adjusted me against his chest, his hold firm but gentle, and turned toward the waiting SUV.

"Selene!"

Kieran's voice echoed across the courtyard, filled with a desperation I had never heard before.

"What the hell is going on? Put her down!"

My heart lurched.

Instinct made me turn my head.

Kieran had taken several steps toward us, disbelief written across his face, his hands clenched into fists.

He looked shaken.

As though the possibility of losing me had never crossed his mind until this very moment.

As though he had never considered that I might actually leave, that someone else might claim me.

Lucien never slowed.

Never looked back.

He didn't acknowledge Kieran's presence, didn't acknowledge the pack, didn't acknowledge anything but me.

The bodyguard opened the rear door of the SUV.

Lucien lowered his head just enough for me to enter without bumping it against the frame, a gesture of care that felt alien after what I had just experienced.

Only after I was safely inside did he release me.

Then he climbed in beside me, closing the distance between us, his presence filling the small space.

The door closed.

Cutting off Kieran's voice.

Cutting off Blackwood Territory.

Cutting off the life I'd just left behind.

The convoy pulled away, the engines roaring softly, leaving the shock and the silence behind.

And through the tinted window...

I watched Kieran standing exactly where Lucien had left him.

Frozen.

His face pale, his eyes wide, watching me disappear.