Chapter 120
Damon's POV
I glanced at Elena in the back seat. She stared out the window, face blank, eyes empty.
This was new.
I cleared my throat. "About Scarlett. If I need to see her again, I'll tell you first."
"Does that include the kiss I saw?" Her voice was flat. Clinical. "Will you report that too?"
Shit. She'd seen it.
My hands tightened on the steering wheel. "That wasn't—"
"You don't owe me explanations, Damon." She still wasn't looking at me. "We both know what this engagement is."
She was right.
I wanted to say You could see other people too, but the words stuck in my throat. The thought of her with someone else—especially with him, that bastard who'd somehow gotten under her skin.
"After the engagement party," I said, forcing my voice steady, "I'll cut back on seeing Scarlett. Until things settle."
Elena just nodded, like she'd expected exactly that answer. Like she'd given up expecting anything else from me.
The silence stretched until we pulled up to Cross Manor. I watched her gather her bag, watched her reach for the door handle, and felt something crack open in my chest—something raw and aching that I couldn't find words for.
"Elena."
She paused.
"I'm sorry," I said. "For... everything."
Then she turned to look at me.
"I know," she said softly. Then she got out and walked away.
I sat there in the driveway long after she'd disappeared inside, hands still gripping the steering wheel, trying to remember when exactly I'd become the villain in her story.
---
Elena's POV
Mother was waiting in the living room when I walked in. She looked better than she had in the hospital—color back in her cheeks, the swelling around her eyes almost gone. But there was something broken in the way she held herself, like a bird with a clipped wing.
"Elena." Her voice was gentle. Too gentle. "We need to talk."
I sank onto the sofa across from her, suddenly exhausted. "About the engagement?"
"About whether you've really decided."
"They've already ordered the invitations," I said. "Every high-ranking pack in the city is coming. If I back out now—"
"Then back out." Mother leaned forward, urgent. "Elena, it's not too late."
"It is too late." My voice came out hollow. "Our pack's standing. This is the only way to protect it all."
"And what about you?" Her eyes were wet. "Who's protecting you?"
I smiled, but it felt wrong on my face. Fragile. "I accepted this a long time ago, Mom. I just... forgot for a little while. That's all."
She covered her mouth with her hand, tears spilling over. I looked away.
"Damon will cooperate," I continued mechanically. "This isn't just about us—it's about both families' reputations. He understands that."
---
The Next Afternoon.
"You're really doing this."
Lila's voice cut through the hum of the campus café. She'd cornered me at our usual table, her expression somewhere between disbelief and fury.
I stared at my untouched latte. "The invitations are already sent."
"That's not an answer." She leaned forward, watching my face. "Elena. Caleb."
My fingers tightened around the cup. "This is my choice."
"Bullshit." The word came out flat. "This is you giving up."
I met her eyes then, forcing my voice steady. "I know you're worried. But I need to do this."
"Do you?" She searched my face. "Because I've never seen you this calm. And it scares the hell out of me. This isn't strength, Elena. This is surrender."
The truth sat heavy in my chest. I just need this to be over. The engagement party, the ceremony, the whole performance. Once it's done, once both families are satisfied, my job is complete.
After that?
---
At Cross Manor, my father practically glowed.
"The funds came through." He paced the sitting room, brandy in hand. "Marcus approved the investment. We're saved, Elena."
My mother sat silent in her chair, her bruised face carefully made up. She wouldn't look at him.
I excused myself and went upstairs, closing my bedroom door against his celebration. On my desk sat the engagement checklist Isabella had sent over: ring sizing, dress fitting, guest list approval, champagne tower design.
I scrolled through it mechanically. This is all theater. Every detail calibrated.
---
Third Person POV
The announcement spread through Saint-Helier's shifter circles like wildfire.
In the Manor District's private lounges, older Alphas raised crystal glasses. "Finally. The blood pact fulfilled." Their wives nodded approvingly, murmuring about tradition and duty, about how the younger generation needed to remember the old ways.
On campus, students forwarded the news. Childhood sweethearts finally together! The comments sections filled with congratulations, with envy, with romantic fantasies about destiny.
Two days before the engagement, Randy was discharged from the hospital.
He summoned the family's inner circle in Blackwood Manor's formal sitting room, his voice still carrying authority despite his weakened state. "This engagement must be grand and proper."
Within hours, people saw the news on social media. The hashtag #VanceWedding climbed to the top of local trending topics.
Across town, in her East District apartment, Scarlett threw her phone across the room.
She'd been scrolling through #VanceWedding for the past hour, watching strangers gush over details she should have been planning with Damon.
"Fuck." She pressed her palms against her eyes, breathing hard.
Her phone buzzed from where it had landed on the carpet. She crawled over to it, snatched it up, and typed with shaking fingers:
You're making this so public. How the hell are you going to back out now?
She hit send, then immediately followed with another:
The entire city's going to be watching. Every Alpha family, every Beta enforcer. When you stand up there and put that ring on her finger, there's no taking it back.
She typed faster:
Did you ever plan to choose me? Or was I always just the girl you fucked while your real bride waited at home?