Chapter 29
Violet's POV:
The rhythmic clack-clack-clack of the mechanical keyboard was the only sound in Dr. Evan Thorne’s private office. It was a sterile, white-walled sanctuary that smelled faintly of antiseptic and expensive cologne. I sat on the edge of the examination bed, swinging my legs slightly, watching the Beta doctor construct the lie that would shield me from my mate’s wrath.
"Severe neurogenic migraines," Evan announced, hitting the enter key with a final, decisive snap. He spun his leather chair around to face me. "That is your official diagnosis. It requires weekly EEG monitoring, stress management, and absolute quiet."
He printed the file, the paper sliding out of the machine with a soft hiss.
I took the file from the brilliant doctor, a high-ranking Beta with impeccable lineage and a future bright enough to blind anyone. It was a tragedy, really. I remembered how he unraveled in my past life—how this composed, rational man eventually shed his dignity to fight Daemon for Celeste. He shouldn't have been a footnote in their chaotic romance; he deserved to be the protagonist of his own story, not a casualty of theirs.
The ride back to the Blackwood estate was a blur of asphalt and adrenaline. I pushed my heavy motorcycle to its limit, the engine roaring beneath my thighs like a captured beast.
When I finally slowed down and turned into the long, winding driveway of the manor, I felt a strange sense of accomplishment. In my previous life, by this point in our marriage, I had been a ghost. I had been twenty pounds lighter, surviving on salads and anxiety, too weak to even lift a motorcycle, let alone ride one.
I cut the engine and kicked down the stand. I pulled off my helmet and shook out my hair, catching my reflection in the side mirror. My skin was glowing with a faint sheen of sweat, my arms were defined and strong, and my eyes were clear. I looked like a warrior.
Movement on the periphery caught my eye.
I turned to see Daemon jogging up the path from the pack’s private training grounds. He stopped a few yards away, his chest heaving rhythmically. He was shirtless, his skin slick with sweat, his muscles pumped and vascular from exertion.
I blinked, surprised. It was noon on a weekday. Daemon was usually in the glass tower of Blackwood Dynamics by now, ruling the world.
He walked toward me, his dark eyes scanning my leather riding gear, the helmet in my hand, and the motorcycle.
"You didn't come back last night," he stated. His voice was rough, devoid of greeting.
I unzipped my jacket, letting the cool air hit my heated skin. "I was tired. I stayed at a hotel."
Daemon stopped directly in front of me. He was close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off his body. "With who?"
"Alone."
He stared at me for a long moment, his eyes narrowing as if trying to peel back the layers of my mind.
Finally, the tension in his shoulders released slightly.
"Fine," he muttered, stepping around me.
I sat on the velvet sofa, flipping through a fashion magazine, waiting for lunch to be served. Daemon came downstairs, dressed in casual grey loungewear, his hair damp from the shower.
He went to the kitchen island to pour a glass of water. Just as he lifted it to his lips, his phone buzzed on the counter.
My ears perked up. Even from across the room, my enhanced hearing picked up the frantic, sobbing voice on the other end.
It was Celeste.
Daemon took a slow sip of water, his expression unreadable. "Calm down, Celeste. That job was a waste of your time. If you need anything, you come to me. How much do you need? Just say the number."
I turned a page of my magazine with a loud snap, a dry, humorless smile curling my lips.
Of course.
Daemon had engineered it. He was a billionaire Alpha who was used to getting what he wanted. If Celeste wouldn't come to him willingly, he would burn down her other options until he was the only shelter left. He had likely made one phone call to get her fired, crushing her independence to force her into his debt.
Daemon hung up the phone and turned, catching me watching him.
I closed the magazine and tossed it onto the coffee table. "She has pride, Daemon. She’s not like the social climbers you usually sleep with. If you want to win her over, you can't just buy her. You have to respect her."
Daemon’s eyes narrowed. He looked at me with a mixture of suspicion and annoyance.
"What is this? Are you so desperate to get rid of me that you're coaching me on how to cheat?"
I stood up. "I’ve told you repeatedly. I want to Unmark."
He rolled his eyes, turning back to the sink to rinse his glass. The gesture was so dismissive it made my blood boil.
"Since you are clearly busy acquiring a new pet," I continued, walking toward him until I was standing at the kitchen island, "let’s discuss the terms. When we dissolve the bond, I want the five percent buffer territory between the Frost and Wildfire lands."
Daemon slammed the glass down on the counter. He turned on me, his Alpha aura flaring with irritation. "Stop it, Violet. You sound ridiculous. We are not unmarking. I have real problems to deal with, and I don't have time for your tantrums."
He grabbed his car keys, brushing past me without a backward glance. "I'm going out."
The moment the heavy oak door slammed shut, sealing the silence back inside the manor, my phone buzzed in my hand. It was Lily.
"Vi, please tell me you’ve actually started packing," her bright voice chirped the second I picked up. "Our flight to the Azure Tide Pack leaves at 8:00 AM tomorrow."
"Don't worry. I won't miss it."
The next two weeks were a blur of sensory overload—a deliberate, hedonistic attempt to scrub the scent of the Frost Pack from my skin.
We started at the Azure Tide Pack, a coastal territory known for its sapphire waters and white sands. We rented a bungalow on stilts right over the water. I shifted into my wolf, Ember. She burst out of me, and we ran along the shoreline, chasing the waves, barking at the seagulls. I felt lighter than I had in a decade.
One evening, as I sat on the deck watching the sunset with a cocktail in hand, my phone buzzed.
Bank Transfer Received: $2,000.00 from Zane Carter.
A text message followed immediately.
Zane: I know it’s not the full amount. I’ll get you the rest as soon as I can. Thank you, Luna.
I accepted the transfer. Not because I wanted the money, but because I knew rejecting it would crush the only thing Zane had left: his pride.
The vacation didn't end at the beach. We traveled inland to the Verdant Claw Pack, sleeping in treehouses suspended in the canopy of an ancient rainforest, listening to the calls of exotic birds. Then we moved to the Highland Mist Pack, where the air was crisp and smelled of heather.
By the time we decided to return home, I had changed. My skin was a deep, healthy bronze.
The return to the Blackwood estate was a jarring reentry into reality. The iron gates swung open, and the imposing grey stone of the manor loomed ahead, casting long shadows in the late afternoon light.
I stepped out of the SUV, instructing the driver to bring my bags in.
Ruby was waiting at the entrance, her face lit up when she saw me.
"Luna! You're back!" she exclaimed, rushing forward. "The house has been so quiet. The Alpha… he asked where you were."
I reached into my tote bag and pulled out two beautifully wrapped packages.
"I brought gifts," I said, handing them to Ruby.
Her eyes widened. "For me?"
"Open them."
She carefully peeled back the paper. The first was a jar of black pearl powder from the Azure Tide coast, a rare cosmetic known for erasing scars and wrinkles. The second was a shawl made of Moonlight Silk from the Highlands—a fabric that shimmered like liquid silver and cost more than a mid-range car.
"Oh, Luna…" Ruby gasped, touching the silk with trembling fingers.
"Take it, Ruby," I said. "You work harder than anyone in this house. You deserve something beautiful."
"Wash these clothes," I instructed gently, gesturing to my travel bags. "I need to shower. I’m going to visit Dominic and Victoria tonight."
"Yes, Luna. Thank you, Luna!" Ruby clutched the gifts to her chest, looking at me with adoration.
I walked up the grand staircase, my boots clicking on the marble.