Chapter 3

Eliana's POV

On the drive home, a strange and terrible calm washed over me. The violent nausea subsided, replaced by an icy clarity. My inner wolf, which had been whimpering in pain, fell silent. It was as if she, too, understood. The time for pain was over. Now was the time for action.

As we pulled into the garage of our sprawling, sterile mansion, I turned to him.

"Dustin," I said, my voice soft, "I feel so disconnected from you lately. Can you stay home tomorrow? Please? Just for me. No work, no pack business. Just us."

I watched the conflict play out on his face. The immediate irritation of his plans being thwarted, quickly masked by the feigned concern of a devoted mate. He was supposed to see Jami tomorrow. I knew it.

"Of course, my love," he finally said, forcing a warm smile. He would play the part of the Alpha sacrificing his duties for his precious mate. "Anything for my Anchor."

That night, I waited until the sound of his deep, even breathing filled the room. Then, I slipped out of bed and went to his home office. The password to his work computer was pathetically easy: our anniversary. The day we first met.

I navigated to the trash folder. He was arrogant, but not smart enough to permanently delete his files. There it was. A video file.

I clicked play.

The video showed Jami, wearing nothing but one of Dustin's dress shirts, perched on the edge of his massive oak desk. My desk, in what was once our shared office.

"When are you going to finally mark me, Alpha?" she purred, running a red-nailed finger down his tie. "When are you going to get rid of that old, boring Omega and make me your real Luna?"

I closed the laptop, my hands not even trembling.

The next morning, I was awake when Jami's frantic calls started. Dustin shot out of bed, grabbing his phone and retreating to the master bathroom, shutting the door behind him. But he couldn't shut out my heightened werewolf hearing.

"I can't, Jami, she wants me to stay home today... No, I can't just leave... I'll make it up to you, I promise," he whispered, his voice a low, placating murmur.

He emerged a few minutes later, feigning a yawn. To apologize for his "interrupted sleep," he made a lavish breakfast, piling my plate with pancakes and fruit. "We should hire more staff," he said, oozing false sincerity. "You shouldn't have to lift a finger, my love."

I looked at him across the table, a perfect stranger. "Dustin," I began, my voice deliberately casual, "are we okay? As mates?"

He looked startled, then his face softened into his well-practiced mask of devotion. He took my hand. "Eliana, you are my world. My Anchor. I would never, ever do anything to hurt you. You know that." The lie was so smooth, so effortless.

I pulled my hand away and took a sip of my coffee. "Good," I said. "By the way, did you ever get me that birthday present from last week? I don't think I ever received it."

The effect was instantaneous. His smile froze. The blood drained from his face. A flicker of pure panic flashed in his eyes before he could hide it. He had completely, utterly forgotten.