Chapter 175
Elena's POV
Breakfast was simple—toast and eggs that I'd managed not to burn this time. We ate in comfortable silence, stealing glances at each other across the table. It felt domestic. Normal. Like this was something we'd been doing for years instead of days.
When he stood to leave, I followed him to the door. He shrugged into his coat, checking his phone one last time before pocketing it.
"Come home early if you can," I said.
He looked at me. Then came a deep kiss, like he was trying to pour everything he couldn't say into the touch. I kissed him back just as fiercely, my hands fisting in his shirt.
When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing hard. He rested his forehead against mine, his eyes closed.
"I have to go," he said, but he didn't move.
"I know."
"But I don't want to."
"I know," I said again, softer.
"Wait for me."
"Always."
He kissed me once more, then forced himself to step back. He turned and walked out the door. I stood there for a long moment after he left, my fingers pressed to my lips, feeling the ghost of his kiss.
For the first time in my life, I understood what it meant to have a home. Not a house, not a place. A person. Someone to come back to. Someone to wait for.
---
Damon's POV
Morning came with brittle silence.
I sat at the breakfast table, mechanically cutting eggs I couldn't taste. My phone kept buzzing—messages from Billy about the next race, a few from friends, nothing important.
My father didn't look up from his tablet. "You're not going to the office today."
It wasn't a question.
"Why?"
He sipped his coffee, utterly unbothered. "You need to work on your temperament. The pack doesn't need an Alpha who throws tantrums."
My mother set down her fork. "Maybe Damon just needs time to adjust to the new environment, let him—"
"Enough." My father's tone left no room for argument. "When he learns to control himself, we'll talk."
My eyes stayed fixed on my plate. I gripped the fork tighter.
---
Afternoon light filtered weak and gray through the clouds as I walked along the street. The surveillance detail had finally been pulled.
I shoved my hands in my pockets, jaw tight.
The cold bit through my jacket, but I barely felt it. My mind was stuck on a loop: Caleb's taking everything. The company. The respect. Elena.
My wolf snarled in my chest. He took what should be ours.
Turning a corner near an intersection, I nearly collided with someone.
Donald Cross.
The older man looked haggard—suit wrinkled, face pale. His scent was off, stress and exhaustion bleeding through.
"Mr. Cross." I straightened automatically, adopting a politeness I didn't feel.
His gaze sharpened. "Damon."
An awkward pause.
"About you and Elena... breaking off the engagement..." He became uncomfortable.
"You..." I hesitated. "Are you really okay with Elena marrying Caleb?"
His expression twisted. Bitter and resigned. "What choice do I have?" His voice was rough. "She's already... made her choice, and the Cross family business still needs Caleb's help."
My chest tightened.
I stepped closer, lowering my voice.
"If you could separate them," I said carefully, "I guarantee the investment. Personally. I'll make sure Cross Industries gets the resources it needs."
His eyes narrowed. I knew he was already considering it.
"Caleb is dangerous." I continued embellishing. "He's been suppressed his whole life. Twisted. Don't you think that leaves scars? He's obsessive, Donald. She won't be happy with him."
Donald rubbed his face, looking older than I'd ever seen him. "Even if I wanted to... I can't reach her. She's living at his place."
My pulse quickened. "I know where."
I pulled out my phone, typed quickly, and sent the address.
"Go now," I urged. "She's your daughter. You have the right to bring her home. Get her away from him, and we can fix everything. All of it."
Donald stared at the screen for a long moment.
Then he nodded slowly. "Alright."
I watched him walk away, my heart pounding with anticipation.
---
Elena's POV
The sharp buzz of the intercom shattered the tranquility of the manor. I looked up from my knitting.
"Cross requesting entry," the automated voice announced. "Caller identified as Donald Cross."
My chest tightened. That Pavlovian fear washed over me in an instant.
I set down the unfinished sweater and walked to the foyer, staring at the small screen showing my father's car idling at the gate. He shouldn't be here.
But if I didn't answer, he'd just keep coming back. He always did.
My hands trembled as I approached the panel. Deep breath. Just one conversation. Then he'd leave.
I pressed the button. The gate slid open with a mechanical hum.
Through the window, I watched his sedan crawl up the driveway. The manor suddenly felt too big, too empty. I was alone.
The doorbell rang. I forced my feet to move, crossing the foyer to pull open the heavy front door.
Donald stood on the threshold. His face looked pale, older. The scent rolling off him was all wrong—stress and exhaustion bleeding through his cologne.
"Elena." His voice was softer than I'd expected, almost gentle. "How have you been?"
I stayed where I was, one hand still on the doorframe. "What do you want?"
"I came to check on you and your mother," He tried to smile. It didn't reach his eyes. "I've been worried about you both."
"We're fine." My tone stayed flat. "If that's all—"
"Please." He stepped forward. I stepped back. "Can we talk? Just for a moment."
The air between us felt thick, suffocating. Every instinct screamed at me to shut the door.
But I was tired of hiding.
"Fine." I moved aside, letting him enter. "Five minutes."
He walked past me into the foyer, his gaze beginning to sweep over everything. His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
I stayed near the stairs, keeping distance between us.
"Where's your mother?"
"She doesn't live here."
There was a certain bitterness in his voice. "How does Caleb treat you both?"
"Is that what you came to say?"
"No." He rubbed his hands together, a nervous gesture I'd never seen from him before. "I came to apologize."
I blinked. "What?"
"For everything." He took another step forward. I took one back. "For the things I said. For... for hitting you. Elena, I—"
"Stop."
My voice came out sharper than intended. He froze mid-sentence.
"You don't get to do this," I continued, my hands curling into fists at my sides. "You don't get to show up here and pretend you're sorry."
"I am sorry—"
"No. You're desperate." I felt something hot and angry rising in my chest. "That's different."
His expression shifted. The mask of fatherly concern cracked, revealing something harder underneath.
"You're my daughter," he said, voice dropping to something colder. "You're making a mistake—"
"Leaving was the best decision I ever made."
The words came out strong, clear. I watched them land like physical blows.
His face darkened. "Caleb is using you. Don't you see? He just wants revenge on Damon and his family—"
"Don't you dare—"
The front door swung open.