Chapter 4

Elara POV

The heavy metal door of *The Crimson Fang* slammed shut, cutting off the thumping bass. Ivy dragged me into the dark, damp alleyway just as my knees finally gave out.

I hit the cold, wet asphalt, my hands scraping against the rough ground. Without an inner wolf to absorb the shock or soothe my fractured mind, the emotional whiplash hit me with the force of a freight train. I leaned against the freezing brick wall and dry heaved, my stomach twisting into violent knots.

"Breathe, El, just breathe," Ivy coaxed, her fiery aura wrapping around me in a protective shield.

"It wasn't just cheating, Ivy," I gasped, wiping my mouth with a trembling hand. "They planned it. Rhys and Cadence... they orchestrated that whole fight. But why? Why did Cadence go through the elaborate charade of leaving the pack just to sneak around with him?"

Ivy's eyes flashed with lethal, Warrior gold. "Because she's a manipulative bitch. We are going to your father. We'll go to Alpha Clive. Once the Morrison Pack knows their precious heir is a lying, scheming-"

"They won't care!" I screamed, the raw sound tearing my throat. I looked up at her, my vision blurred with tears of absolute defeat. "The Morrison Pack will protect their future Alpha at all costs. And my parents? They will just say the wolfless, defective Omega ruined a perfect alliance out of jealousy. In this world, Ivy, no one burns down an Alpha for a wolfless nobody."

Ivy opened her mouth to argue, but suddenly, her eyes glazed over. Her posture went rigid-the universal sign of receiving an urgent Mind-Link.

"A border breach," she muttered, her jaw clenching in frustration. "My Gamma is calling all Warriors back. Elara, I have to go, but I can't leave you like this."

"Go," I whispered, forcing a hollow numbness into my voice. "I'm just going to go home and sleep."

It was a lie.

Ten minutes later, I pushed through the grimy doors of *The Serpent's Kiss*, a notorious dive bar in neutral territory. The air was thick with cheap liquor, sweat, and the aggressive, territorial scents of a dozen different packs. I ignored the predatory stares and slumped onto a sticky barstool.

"Whiskey. Neat," I told the scarred bartender.

By the time I slammed my second empty glass down, the burning in my throat had barely dulled the agonizing ache in my chest. I signaled for a third. The bartender hesitated, eyeing my trembling hands.

Before he could speak, the air around me shifted.

It wasn't just a change in temperature; it was a heavy, suffocating pressure that made the hairs on my arms stand up. Then, the scent hit me. *Cedar and a violent, electric storm.* It was so potent, so overwhelmingly dominant, that my wolfless body instinctively shivered.

A tall, broad-shouldered man slid onto the stool beside me. He was breathtakingly handsome, with sharp, aristocratic features and dark hair, but it was his eyes that froze the breath in my lungs-a deep, endless blue that seemed to strip away every layer of my defenses.

He didn't look at the bartender. His gaze was entirely, terrifyingly fixed on me.

"Give her a Tears of the Goddess," his voice rumbled, a dark, magnetic baritone that vibrated straight down to my bones. He leaned in slightly, the storm in his scent wrapping around me. "You can't drown the truth, Elara Sanford. You can only poison yourself."

My heart hammered against my ribs. He knew my name. He knew exactly what I was doing. However, I do not know his name and his identity.

"What's your name?" I asked. "Axel Laurent, that's my name," his deep, sexy voice whispered in my ear.

A reckless, self-destructive rebellion flared to life in the ashes of my broken heart. I was done being the good, obedient Omega. I was done being a pawn. I looked at this dangerous, magnificent stranger, letting out a bitter, breathless laugh.

"You seem to know everything," I challenged, my eyes locking onto his. "Then you should know exactly what I need right now."

I didn't wait for his permission. I reached out, my small hand wrapping around his strong wrist, and pulled him up from the bar. "Less talking."

I dragged him out of the dive bar, marching straight toward the towering, illuminated glass of the Sovereign Hotel across the street. I was throwing myself into the abyss, and I didn't care if I shattered at the bottom.

*

The pounding in my skull was the first thing I registered.

I groaned, burying my face in the impossibly soft, silk pillows. The memories of last night crashed into my hungover brain-the desperate touches, the intoxicating scent of cedar, the way I had let a complete stranger consume me to forget my own name.

Panic, sharp and cold, pierced through the haze. I sat up, clutching the duvet to my bare chest. The penthouse suite was obscenely luxurious, bathed in morning sunlight.

*I have to leave. Now.*

I scrambled out of bed, my hands shaking as I gathered my discarded clothes from the plush carpet. I just needed to slip out, pretend this catastrophic lapse in judgment never happened, and go back to my miserable reality.

"Running is for Omegas, Elara."

I froze.

He stood in the doorway of the master bathroom. Water dripped from his dark hair, trailing down the heavily muscled, scarred expanse of his bare chest. The sheer, terrifying power radiating from him was even more suffocating in the daylight.

His blue eyes pinned me to the spot. "I thought you weren't one anymore. Put the clothes down. We need to talk."