The punching bag swung violently with every blow of her fist.
Sweat trickled down her back and strands of silvery-white hair clung to the nape of her neck, but she kept striking, putting her full body weight into it, until the chain above her groaned under the strain.
Henrik had said no.
She landed another blow, more powerful this time.
“A pack matter.” She scoffed aloud in the empty room.
“Bastard.” She had called him as soon as she got back from running errands, still riding the high of a good day, and he had shut her down in less than a minute.
No real explanation.
Just an excuse disguised as a valid reason.
“Fine,” she had told him.
“But don’t forget the weddings next week.
Arrangements are almost done on my side, we should be done in a few days.” “Right, good to know.” “Say hello to Laura for me.” “I will.” She had hung up first.
That detail, at least, had felt good.
The door at the far end of the room opened.
She caught the movement in the mirror before she even heard it, and her whole body froze mid-motion.
Elias.
He hadn’t spoken to her since the night he’d kissed her.
Not a word, not a lingering glance, nothing.
She had told herself it was better that way.
He crossed the mat in workout gear; sweat soaked his T-shirt and dark hair, and his chest was heaving from a run.
He stopped a few paces away from her, close enough to speak without shouting, yet leaving a significant gap between them.
“Can we talk?” She didn’t turn around immediately.
She kept her fist pressed against the punching bag, holding the stance while she composed herself.
Then she let her arm drop and turned to face him, meeting his gaze without revealing a thing.
“Speak.” A part of her, the part that remained Rosella beneath this borrowed skin, wanted to soften.
That part had spent a lifetime being the first to apologize, smoothing things over before everything shattered.
She suppressed the feeling.
Colette wouldn’t soften.
Colette had never needed to.
“I was wrong.
About what I did that night.” His voice was low and measured, as if he had rehearsed the words while fearing they might fall flat.
“I felt abandoned.
I should have talked to you instead of assuming things had changed between us.” “They did change.” “I know that now.” He took a half-step toward her, then stopped himself and stood still.
“I don’t want what we have to disappear because of one bad night, Colette.
If I could marry you, I would.
But I’m not an Alpha.
I have no say in who you’ll spend your life with.
All I can do is stand here and watch you marry someone else.” A tight sensation gripped her chest.
It wasn’t guilt, not exactly, but it was close enough that she couldn’t tell the difference.
He was mourning a woman she wasn’t, a version of her who had never touched him, and she had to stand there and let him believe in that illusion.
She brushed a lock of hair from her cheek, buying herself a few seconds before answering.
“I can’t call off the wedding, Elias.” “I’m not asking you to.” “Then what are you asking of me?” He had no answer to that, at least none he was ready to voice, and the silence spoke volumes.
“You have to accept it,” she said.
“Whatever we had, it’s over.
It has to be.” She walked past him, her arm brushing against his shirt sleeve, and headed for the exit leading to the hallway.
She had taken only three steps when he grabbed her wrist.
She jerked her arm free and spun around, her jaw set and her gaze fixed on him.
“Don’t do that,” she said.
“Don’t ever lay a hand on me again.
Next time, I won’t be so lenient.” A muscle twitched along Elias’s jaw as if he were about to protest, but his stance finally gave way to a sigh of defeat.
He lowered his hand and stepped back.
She turned and walked out.
Her footsteps echoed in the deserted hallway long after the gym door had closed behind her.
Only when she was completely alone did she let her shoulders drop, allowing the part of her that was still trembling at the rising voices to catch its breath.
The following evening, the estate seemed utterly transformed.
Lanterns hung from the hedges and long tables were set in white and gold, the silverware reflecting the candlelight.
Martha was waiting for her near the top of the stairs and with agile, practiced fingers, she adjusted the sleeve of Colette’s dress.
“The Elders are already here,” Martha said.
“Half of them have brought their partners.” “Good.
Let them see the house full of people.” Colette smoothed her dress.
“Once the toasts are made, send the staff home.
All of them.
I’m giving them the evening off.” Martha blinked.
“Pardon?” “You heard me; it’s the least I can do after all the hard work they put in every day.
Let them enjoy the evening and relax.
They’ve certainly earned it.” “That’s generous.” “It’s only right,” Colette replied.
She descended the stairs to greet her guests, her silvery-white hair cascading over her shoulder.
Elder Priska welcomed her at the foot of the stairs with a slight bow; Colette returned the gesture with measured precision.
“A fine turnout, Alpha.
Your father would have been delighted.” “Let’s hope the wine is enough to keep them all satisfied,” Colette said.
Priska laughed, genuinely caught off guard.
Her speech was brief.
She spoke of gratitude, the alliance, and her marriage, uttering the words expected of her.
Applause erupted at the right moment, glasses were raised throughout the hall, and the music began as the assembly took their seats.
She was exchanging pleasantries with a pack member near the entrance when Edna appeared, accompanied by a younger woman in a dark red dress.
“You said you’d send an invitation,” Edna said.
“It wasn’t necessary.
News travels fast.” “I keep my promises.” Colette looked at the sister.
“You didn’t tell me you were bringing a guest.” “My sister Grace; I hope you don’t mind.” A faint smile touched Edna’s lips.
Grace bowed with grace and deference.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Alpha Colette.” Colette nodded.
“The pleasure is mine.” Then she turned to Edna.
“The whole neighborhood is talking about your visit.” “I hope it’s only good gossip?” Edna laughed and replied, “Of course.” Colette gave a soft, light laugh.
“Enjoy the party, Edna.” Edna bowed, led her sister toward the center of the room, and their figures vanished into the crowd.
Colette smiled at the guests, acknowledging their congratulations with a confident nod, shaking hands, and allowing herself to be drawn by two elders into a conversation about tribute figures, figures she was barely following.
Deep down, a heaviness settled in her chest; she eventually recognized it as sorrow.
She had never known a life like this.
As Rosella, she had stood in the back of rooms refilling glasses while others danced.
Now, clad in silk at the center of the room, she still felt like an outsider watching through glass.
She set her glass on a server’s tray and stepped out the side door before anyone noticed her departure.
She stepped into the quiet garden, intending to take only five minutes.
But as she followed the winding path, the party music faded into a distant hum and tall hedges hemmed her in on either side.
She stopped.
The silence was unnatural, no insects in the grass, no breeze in the leaves, only the eerie stillness of the dark.
She turned back toward the lights and saw him.
A man was standing on the path behind her, hidden in the shadows between two tall hedges, perfectly motionless.
“Hello?” No answer.
“Hello?
Who’s there?” He remained silent.
Her heart began to pound against her ribs.
She took a step back; the man took a step forward, advancing with a measured pace, as if he knew she had nowhere to go.
She spun and ran, dodging hedges as heavy footsteps matched her rhythm.
A branch snagged her dress; she tore free, panic flinging her mind straight back to IronClaw, branches tearing, the black lake looming, and Alaric’s icy grip closing around her.
The memory burned in her lungs as she forced her legs forward.
Her survival instinct flared, her Alpha blood boiling to fight back, but the sudden power awakened the curse lurking beneath her skin.
Pain tore through her shoulder blade like molten lead, forcing her inner wolf into submission just when she needed its strength.
Gritting her teeth against the blinding inferno devouring her shoulder, she kept running.
The lights of the main house twinkled through the trees straight ahead.
The garden entrance lay just around the bend, followed closely by the terrace steps, while the roar of the crowd grew more distinct by the second.
An arm shot out from the shadows of the hedge and yanked her backward, pinning her against a hard chest.
“No!” she screamed, struggling violently, her fingernails clawing at the arm that held her pinned against his ribs.