Chapter 9

Lorien’s POV

Every Lycan, from the common pack member to a king like me, relies on their heightened senses. They're a vital part of who we are, interwoven with our very being. And out of them all, the sense of smell is perhaps the most intimate, especially when it comes to identifying our mates. But now, even as I concentrate and sniff her once more, there's a void where her familiar scent should be. A void that's both disconcerting and maddening.

Is this a trick of the mind? Some kind of defense mechanism? Could the overwhelming intensity of our bond be causing my senses to betray me? Or is there something about Scarlett, something intrinsically human, that my Lycan senses can't comprehend?

A fleeting doubt creeps in. Has she done something to herself to alter or mask her scent? Or is it me? Have I, in some inexplicable way, become detached or numb to her essence? The notion's unsettling. If I can't sense her, how can I protect her, find her in a crowd, or feel that comforting pull towards her when we're apart?

"Lorien," her voice trembles, "my father's health is deteriorating. Can I at least visit him?"

I just realized I was holding her, and I bet my face looks pretty dark right now.

"The deal was clear, Scarlett," I manage, my voice firm, though inside, a storm of emotions rages. "Three years."

She swallows hard, tears spilling over. "Please, Lorien. I just need to see him, to be there for him. I promise I'll come back."

Taking a deep breath, I finally nod. "Alright. But promise me, Scarlett, promise you'll return."

She throws her arms around me, her body shaking with a mix of relief and gratitude. "Thank you," she whispers.

***

Scarlett's POV

My heart races with anticipation; today, Lorien is driving me home to see my dad.

As I approach the sleek black Mercedes SUV, I see Lorien talking on the phone, holding up a finger indicating he needs a minute. He always looks so put together, but today there's a discernible tension around his eyes. Pulling open the door to the back, I deposit my bag and can't help but overhear a fragment of Lorien's conversation, "Buy everything. I don't care how much it costs." I wait until he hangs up to slide into the front seat, not wanting to intrude any more than I already have.

"Everything okay?" I ask, trying to offer a comforting presence.

He chucks his phone into the cubby of his console and turns toward me. "I've got it covered. Let's get on the road, shall we?" He attempts a reassuring smile, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

The engine purrs to life and the scenery of the compound begins to blur as we make our way to the exit. Just as freedom seems within reach, Lorien's phone interrupts again. He glances at the caller ID, a shadow passing over his face. "It's my father," he mutters, answering the call.

Listening to their brief exchange, I gather that his father demands an urgent meeting. Lorien's hands tighten on the steering wheel and he mutters a curse under his breath.

"Look, Scarlett," Lorien starts, regret evident in his voice, "I can't take you after all."

A rush of emotions floods me. The promise to see my father, the hope, and now this sudden letdown. "But you promised," I counter, trying to keep the tremor from my voice.

He hesitates, guilt clouding his features. After a deep breath, he says, "I'll call Jasper. He can get you. Wait for him by the gate."

I sniff back my tears. "But–"

"I'm sorry," Lorien cuts in, frustration and regret evident in his voice. "It's just how it has to be."

The SUV halts abruptly by the gate, the suddenness of it echoing the rush of emotions within me. Lorien looks over, his face a mask of controlled emotion, but the depth in his eyes reveals much more. "Scarlett," he begins, his voice gravelly, "promise me you'll return tonight."

I swallow, the weight of his gaze making my heart pound. "Why tonight? What's so special about it?" I ask, trying to read him.

"It's important," he stresses, not really answering my question. "Promise me."

A whirlwind of thoughts races through my mind. What was I walking into? Did he know something I didn't? My voice barely more than a whisper, I reply, "I promise, Lorien."

I step out, the gravel crunching under my feet, trying to process the sudden turn of events. As I move away, his voice cuts through the cool air, sharper than before, "And Scarlett? If you don't return on time, you won't like the consequences. I won't hesitate to come looking." The possessive way in which he said “looking”, as if he would burn the world down to find me, made his threat sensual…seductive. It slithered over my skin like a fine vibrant silk.

I nod, my cheeks blushing. I meet his eyes and hold them for a second before he speeds off in a cloud of dust.

The unspoken words that passed between us in that one look warmed me from the inside out.

The familiar purr of Jasper's engine fills the air as his car glides smoothly up to the curb. The sight of it, and him, is a small anchor in the storm that has become my day. As I step inside, the faint scent of leather and a hint of pine provide a comforting embrace.

"Scarlett," Jasper greets, his voice gentle as if he can sense the tempest of emotions brewing inside me.

"Jasper," I manage a smile, still thinking of the intensity of Lorien's look.

"How do you feel in the compound? Adapting okay?"

There's so much I could say, but I settle for, "It's ... a nice place." Except my poor room.

Jasper nods, focusing on the road after a brief glance my way. After a few moments, he ventures, "Speaking of the compound... have you... um, forgiven Lila?"

His hesitancy doesn't go unnoticed. I sigh. "I have, Jasper. There are bigger things to hold onto right now than old resentments."

He nods, seemingly relieved. "That's big of you, Scarlett. I knew you had a heart of gold."

We discuss idle chit chat until the familiar landmarks of my childhood come into view. I fall silent as each one tugs at my heartstrings, pulling me back to simpler days. When Jasper pulls up to my family home, a rush of memories cascades over me. It feels like a lifetime has passed since I was last here.

The front door is slightly ajar, and the lights inside are dim. It's silent, save for the distant ticking of the grandfather clock. As I step into the living room, I find my stepmother, her face pale and eyes red-rimmed. But Viola? She's nowhere to be seen. The absence feels deliberate.

"Where's Viola?" I ask, even though there's a part of me that's afraid to know the answer.

My stepmother just shakes her head, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Now's not the time," she murmurs.

The heaviness in the room is palpable, and it draws me to my father's bedroom. The door creaks softly as I push it open, revealing the frail figure of my father, tubes and wires connecting him to the various machines keeping him alive. I approach his bedside, taking his cold hand into mine. As I do, memories flood in — of bedtime stories, of him teaching me to ride a bike, of the loving father-daughter moments we shared.

A tear slips down my cheek. This isn't how I wanted to remember him, yet I can't shake the looming feeling that these might be our last moments together.

My train of thought is suddenly shattered by the stark silence that envelops the room. I glance at the machines, my heart plummeting as I see the steady line on the monitor.

No. This can't be happening.

"Dad?" My voice is barely a whisper, a desperate plea. But there's no response. The realization hits me hard. He's gone.

The magnitude of my loss crashes over me. My vision blurs, tears streaming down my face, each one carrying with it memories, regrets, and the agonizing weight of knowing I will never be able to talk to my father again.

***

The quiet hum of the house is punctuated by my stepmother's soft sobs, echoing through the dimly lit hallway. She looks up, her eyes a storm of emotions, but predominantly despair. As I move closer, attempting to offer some comfort, the shrill ring of the phone cuts through the silence. She moves to answer it with a hesitancy, as if she knows that more bad news awaits.

"Hello?" Her voice quivers.

The conversation is brief, but the change in her posture says everything. She hangs up, looking more defeated than before.

"Thomas," she starts, swallowing hard. "He's pulled his shares from the company. All of them."

I feel a lump form in my throat. The ramifications of such a move are clear to me. I inherited the majority of shares from my father's will, which means the future of the company now sits squarely on my shoulders. A future that seems grim if Thomas' shares are gone.

She approaches, her demeanor shifting from grieving widow to desperate conspirator. "Scarlett, you must talk to him. Maybe if you ask, he'll reconsider. We need those shares."

"Why would Thomas do this?" I whisper, more to myself than to her. "It doesn't make sense."

She grabs my arm, her fingers digging in slightly. "Doesn't matter. You need to fix this. For your father."

I pull away, taking a deep breath. "I won't beg, if that's what you're asking." The words come out stronger than I feel. "But I will speak with him."

Her eyes narrow, assessing. "Do what you must, but ensure the company stays afloat."

Memories of Thomas flood my mind. Kind, gentle Thomas who shared so many business lunches with my father. Could he really jeopardize our family's legacy?

Yet, as I contemplate my next steps, there's one thing I'm sure of: I won't go to Lorien for financial help. As much as he means to me, I'm not prepared to blur those lines. I don't want him to think I'm a gold digger.

"Jasper?" I call out, my voice echoing slightly in the vastness of our home.

He appears almost immediately, concern etched on his features. "Yes, Scarlett?"

"I need to see Thomas, my ex-fiancé, Can you take me?"

His eyebrows furrow in confusion, but he nods. "Of course."

The drive is tense. With each passing mile, I rehearse what I'm going to say. How can I make him understand the gravity of his decision without sounding desperate?

Jasper clears his throat, breaking the thick silence. "You sure about this, Scarlett?"

I turn to him, forcing a smile. "Do I have a choice? This is my father's legacy we're talking about."

He nods sympathetically. "Just remember, people change. Don't expect the same Thomas you once knew."

A shiver runs down my spine. Jasper's words hold more truth than I care to admit. As the imposing facade of Thomas's residence comes into view, a cocktail of emotions swirl within me: hope, fear, dread, and determination. Whatever awaits me inside, I'm ready to face it—I must save my father's company!