Chapter 46
Elena's POV
"What the hell happened to you?" he said. "You're different. You're—I don't even recognize you anymore."
Good, I thought. Maybe I don't want you to.
The study door opened. My father emerged, his timing too perfect to be coincidental. He'd been listening.
"Is everything all right?" he asked, but he was looking at Damon. Not me.
"I invited Elena to the Ice Palace resort," Damon said. His voice had changed. Professional. Careful. "Opening weekend. But she says she's too busy."
My father's eyes cut to me. Sharp. Warning.
"Too busy?" He forced a laugh. "Nonsense. She has nothing going on. Right, Elena?"
My throat closed.
"It's just—I need to study, and—"
"I'll make sure she's ready," my father said to Damon. Not to me. To Damon. "What time should she be ready?"
"Dad—"
"Eight AM tomorrow," Damon said, watching me. "I'll pick her up."
"Perfect." My father's smile didn't reach his eyes. "She'll be ready."
I dug my nails into my palms. Hard enough to hurt.
Damon stood. Straightened his jacket. "I should go. Thanks for the coffee, Mr. Cross."
"Anytime. Anytime." My father walked him to the door, voice warm and fawning.
I stayed in the living room. Frozen.
The front door closed. Footsteps came back. When my father walked in, all the warmth was gone.
"Let me make something very clear," he said. The kind of voice that made me want to cower. "You will go on this trip. You will be pleasant. You will remind Damon why this marriage is a good idea."
"But he doesn't—"
"I don't care if he loves you." His voice was flat. Empty. "I don't care if you love him. You're going to marry him. For this family. Do you understand?"
I stood up. "Have you even asked him if he wants to marry me? He has a girlfriend, Dad. He's in love with someone else."
"That's your problem to fix."
I stared at him. "My problem—"
"Yes. Yours." He stepped closer. "You've had all this time to make him fall in love with you. You grew up together. You should have cultivated something by now."
The words hit like a physical blow.
"You can't force someone to love you," I whispered.
"Love?" He laughed. Actually laughed. "You think I'm talking about love? This isn't about love, Elena. This is about survival. About keeping our family from being swallowed by the other packs. Love is a luxury we can't afford."
"But—"
"No buts." His voice went hard. "You have one job. One purpose. To secure this alliance. To give the Cross bloodline a future. Everything else is secondary."
My eyes burned but I refused to cry. "I'm not a brood mare."
"No. You're my daughter. And you have responsibilities." He crossed his arms. "Tomorrow you go to that resort. You spend the weekend with Damon. You make him happy. You make him want you."
"And if I can't?"
"You will." He paused. "Even if you have to go to his room at night."
The world tilted. "What?"
"You heard me." No emotion in his voice. Like he was discussing the weather. "Do what you need to do. Get him to mark you if you can. Once that's done, he can't back out. The bond will be permanent."
I felt sick. Actually sick. "You want me to—to sleep with him. To trick him into—"
"I want you to secure your future. Our future." He leaned closer. "Because if you don't—if this falls through—you can find somewhere else to live. You'll be on your own."
The threat hung in the air between us.
---
Morning fog wrapped around Cross Manor. I stood at the front door, staring at the idling sports car in the driveway. The engine rumbled low.
My father's hand landed on my shoulder. To anyone watching, the gesture would seem affectionate. Tender. But his fingers pressed hard.
"Elena." His voice was warm. Artificial. "Have fun, sweetheart."
Then he leaned close. His breath scalded my ear. "Get in the car."
Not a suggestion. A command.
My legs moved before my brain could catch up. One foot, then the other. Down the steps. Across the driveway. My hand reached for the door handle.
You've never disobeyed him. Not once. Never.
I pulled open the door. Slid into the passenger seat. The leather was ice-cold. The air inside smelled like expensive cologne—musk, leather, and something deeper. Damon's scent. It filled the enclosed space, thick and suffocating.
He sat in the driver's seat, sunglasses hiding his eyes. But I still felt his gaze.
The window rolled up. The car pulled away.
I watched the manor shrink in the side mirror until the fog swallowed it completely.
---
The highway stretched ahead, endless and white. Snow covered everything. Trees. Road. The sky was the color of old bone.
GPS: Three hours fifty-two minutes.
I focused on the window. Watched the trees blur past. Counted mile markers.
Damon kept glancing at me. I could see it in my peripheral vision. Quick looks. Like he was waiting for me to speak first.
I didn't.
Sixty-eight minutes passed in complete silence.
Then the engine roared. The speedometer climbed—120, 140, 160. The trees became black and white streaks.
My hands clenched in my lap.
"How long are you going to keep this up?" His voice cut through the engine noise.
"This world doesn't revolve around you, Damon." My voice came out flat and cold. "And neither do I."
His hands tightened on the wheel.
The car swerved violently, nearly clipping the guardrail.
The car straightened, but the speed dropped to 80. When Damon spoke again, his voice had gone dangerously quiet.
"You said you have feelings for someone." He stared at the road ahead. "Who is it? Is it Caleb?"
I said nothing.
"Answer me, Elena."
"It's none of your business."
"None of my business?" He let out a bitter laugh. "I warned you before—you're too naive. You think he actually likes you?"
My nails dug into my thighs.
"Men see opportunity when they look at you. Don't mistake that for genuine feelings."
"So in your eyes..." My voice trembled. "I'm not even worth being liked..."
Damon didn't answer.