Chapter 58
Elena's POV
I stayed in Lila's room for lunch. Didn't want to risk running into Damon in the hotel restaurant. Caleb and the team went to handle the ski resort's service robot project.
But half an hour later, there was a knock.
A staff member stood there with a tray—club sandwich, fries, and a cold pack wrapped in a clean towel.
"Mr. Vance asked me to bring this to you."
I stared at the food.
"He also left a message." The guy pulled out his phone, reading from the screen. "Eat something. Use the ice pack on your eyes. We'll be back soon."
Heat prickled behind my eyes.
After the door closed, Lila raised her eyebrows. "Well. Damn."
I picked up my phone. Sure enough, there was a text from Caleb.
"Eat. Ice your eyes. We'll be back in a couple hours."
Short. Direct. But somehow it felt... thoughtful.
"Why is he so good to me?" I whispered.
Lila just smiled. "Maybe you should ask him."
---
I spent the rest of the afternoon alone, lying on the bed with the cold water bottle pressed against my swollen eyelids. The chill felt good. Grounding.
My mind kept circling back to Caleb. How he sheltered me during the blizzard. How he appeared when I was most helpless. How he made sure I had food and ice even though he was busy.
Then I remembered what he'd asked me last night.
"Would you consider someone else?"
At the time, I'd been too flustered to think. But now... Someone else. Did he mean himself?
The thought made my heart skip.
But then Damon's words crept back in. "He's always hated me. This is revenge. He's using you to get back at me."
I frowned, pressing the ice pack harder. Was that true? Was Caleb's kindness just... strategy?
---
I heard the door beep. I thought it was Lila coming back. Kept my eyes closed, the ice pack still balanced on my face.
But the footsteps were wrong. Too light. Too careful.
Then I felt it—someone leaning over the bed. Close. Too close.
I yanked the ice pack off and sat up fast—nearly colliding with Caleb's face.
We froze.
Our faces were inches apart. I could see the exact shade of his eyes—amber-brown, flecked with gold. Could see my own reflection in them. Could feel the warmth radiating off his skin.
My breath caught.
His gaze dropped from my eyes to my mouth. Slow. Deliberate.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
I swallowed. The sound felt too loud in the silence.
The air between us turned thick, heavy. Like the whole room was holding its breath.
I felt it again—that pull. That ache low in my chest that made me want to lean forward, close the gap.
Caleb's throat worked. His jaw clenched. His eyes flickered back to mine, and for a second, I saw something raw there. Something that looked like hunger and restraint tangled together.
Then his gaze dropped again. To my lips.
I felt it like a touch.
My pulse kicked into overdrive. My fingers curled into the blanket, nails digging into fabric, because if I didn't hold onto something I was going to do something stupid—
I couldn't breathe.
Then he moved—not closer, but away. His gaze dropped, breaking the connection, and I felt the loss like something had been pulled from my body.
His hand lifted. Slowly. His fingertips brushed the corner of my eye where it was still swollen.
The touch was so gentle it made my throat tight.
He stood and took a step back. His gaze flickered to where my back pressed against the wall, then returned to my face.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
I steadied myself. "I've thought it through. I'm fine."
His eyes dropped to my hands. I was twisting the hem of the hoodie between my fingers.
He was quiet for a moment. Then: "Come with me tomorrow."
I stared at him. "What?"
"Leave. With me." He paused. "I'm heading back to the city in the morning. You could come along."
"Okay."
The word came out before I could stop it.
"Get some rest," he said quietly, voice rough.
Then he stood and walked toward the door. I sat frozen on the bed, ice pack forgotten in my lap, watching him leave. The door clicked shut.
I pressed my fingers to where he'd touched my face. My skin still felt warm.
My pulse was racing. I felt like I'd been standing on some kind of edge, and I didn't know whether to feel relieved or devastated that nothing had happened.
I lay back down, but sleep didn't come.
Instead, I kept replaying that moment. The way he'd looked at me. The way his eyes had dropped to my mouth.
And then—without meaning to—I remembered the dream.
It had been a week ago, right after that night I'd gotten drunk and woken up in his bed. In the dream, he'd kissed me. Soft at first, then deeper, his hand cradling my face like I was something he'd been searching for his whole life.
I'd woken up with my heart racing and shame burning through me.
But now...
If it was him, I might not refuse.
The thought appeared in my head, clear and terrifying.
My pulse kicked up. I rolled onto my side, burying my face in the pillow. What the hell was wrong with me?
I groaned into the pillow.
---
My phone buzzed.
I found it. The screen showed Dad.
My stomach dropped. I almost didn't answer. But if I didn't, he'd just keep calling. Or worse, show up.
I swiped to accept. "Hello?"
"How's the trip going?" His voice was too bright. Too eager.
"Fine."
"And Damon? Are you two getting along?"
I closed my eyes. "We're... it's complicated."
"Complicated?" His tone sharpened. "Elena, this is not the time for complications. You need to make this work."
"Dad—"
"Listen to me." The brightness was gone now, replaced by something harder. Desperate. "You have to marry Damon. The Vance family's resources are the only thing that can save us. Do you understand?"
My chest tightened.
"You need to be proactive about this," he continued. "Get closer to him. Make yourself indispensable. Once an Alpha marks you, you're bonded. He can't just walk away from that. Neither can you."
I felt cold all over.
"Dad, I can't—"
"Yes, you can." His voice was steel. "You will. This is your responsibility, Elena. To this family."
The line went dead.
I sat there in the dark, phone still pressed to my ear, feeling like I couldn't breathe. Once an Alpha marks you, he can't just walk away. Neither can you.
The words echoed in my head. I thought about Damon's hands on me. His scent. The idea of being permanently tied to someone who looked at me like I was an inconvenience.
My stomach turned.
I curled up on the bed, pulling my knees to my chest. For the first time in my life, I thought: I wish I'd never been born.