Chapter 25

Dominic's POV

When Elena's message appeared on my phone, I barely gave it a second glance. *It's over. I'm breaking the contract. Find someone else to be your Lyra substitute.* The words themselves were meaningless. I knew better. She needed the money for her father's care. She needed me. It was only a matter of time before she came crawling back.

So I did nothing. I simply waited for her inevitable return, my pride never allowing me to consider any other outcome.

Then came Olivia's message. *Hey there, handsome. Elena gave me your number. Said you might be looking for some company now that she's out of the picture.*

My grip tightened on the phone until I heard the faint cracking of glass. Elena hadn't just walked away—she'd tossed me aside like garbage, handing me off to the very woman who had already stolen one man from her.

In all my years, no one had ever dared to challenge me this way. People bent to my will, not the other way around. People feared me, respected me, desired me. They didn't discard me.

Fine. If she wanted to play this game, I'd follow her rules—for now. I agreed to meet Olivia at Luna's Lounge, knowing full well that Elena would eventually hear about it through campus gossip.

The moment Olivia spotted me at the bar, her eyes lit up with predatory triumph. She wore a dress so tight it left nothing to the imagination, her scent heavy with artificial perfume and natural desire. A walking, talking invitation that any other man would eagerly accept.

"Dominic," she purred, sidling up beside me. "I've been dying to get you alone."

I allowed her to touch my arm, to press herself against me. I played along, placing my hand on her waist, whispering meaningless flirtations in her ear that made her laugh too loudly.

But the moment my skin made contact with hers, a sharp, stabbing pain radiated through my chest. My wolf—usually contained and controlled—howled in protest, clawing against my ribcage with such violence that I nearly gasped aloud.

This made no sense. Elena was human, ordinary, insignificant in the grand hierarchy of our world. My wolf should have no reaction whatsoever to my touching another woman. Yet here it was, fighting me, warning me, demanding I stop.

When I caught Elena's scent cutting through the stale club air, my wolf went eerily still, then alert. Through the crowd, I spotted her.

Follow her.

My wolf's command was crystal clear, more insistent than it had ever been.

I caught her near the exit, caging her against the wall, my body pressed against hers in a way that felt simultaneously like punishment and necessity.

"Are you sure you want to terminate our relationship?" I asked one final time.

Elena's POV

I couldn't deny it anymore. After days of avoiding Dominic, of telling myself I was better off without him, the moment I caught his scent， my body betrayed me completely.

It didn't matter that I'd seen him with Olivia. It didn't matter that he'd humiliated me. My treacherous body still craved his touch with an intensity that terrified me.

"Are you sure you want to terminate our relationship?" he asked again, his breath hot against my ear.

I hesitated, caught in a storm of conflicting emotions.

"Get your hands off her, you fucking psycho!" Zoe's voice slashed through the tension. She appeared beside us, eyes blazing with protective fury.

Dominic didn't even glance at her. His eyes remained fixed on mine, waiting for an answer I couldn't give.

"It's freezing out here," Axton interjected, suddenly beside Zoe. "Let's take this inside and talk like adults."

Somehow we all ended up back in the club, at a corner table far from the dance floor. Olivia materialized almost instantly, sliding into the booth beside Dominic with a triumphant smirk.

"Careful, little Zoe," she said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "You should keep a closer eye on Axton. After all, he's the only asset you've got."

"Better than being a professional boyfriend-thief," Zoe shot back.

"Is that what Elena told you?" Olivia laughed. "That I stole Ethan? Honey, you can't steal what's already looking for a way out."

I tuned out their argument, reaching for the bottle of vodka on our table and pouring myself a generous shot. I could feel Dominic's eyes tracking my every movement, but I refused to meet his gaze, focusing instead on the burn of alcohol sliding down my throat.

One shot became two, then three. The voices around me blurred into meaningless noise. All that remained clear was Dominic's presence beside me, his heat radiating across the inches that separated us.

The argument escalated. Zoe's palm connected with Olivia's cheek in a sharp crack that momentarily silenced the nearby tables. Chaos erupted—Olivia lunging for Zoe, Axton trying to separate them, glasses shattering on the floor.

"Control your woman," Dominic told Axton, his voice cold and commanding.

"Mind your own business," Zoe snapped back. "Axton, don't you dare interfere."

Axton held up his hands, looking between Dominic and Zoe with resignation. "Maybe you should worry more about Elena," he said to Dominic. "She's had a lot to drink.I've heard plenty of stories about drunk hook-ups in this place. People making decisions they wouldn't make sober."

Dominic's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Is that right?" His attention shifted to me, his expression unreadable. "Drunk sex? Is that what you like, Elena?"

The question hit me like a physical blow.

Was he asking if I'd sleep with someone else out of drunken spite? Or if I'd only been with him because of alcohol-lowered inhibitions?

He leaned closer, his breath hot against my ear. "Tell me, Elena. Do you need vodka to let a man touch you? Is that why you were always so... responsive with me?" His fingers brushed against my thigh under the table, the contact sending electric shocks through my system despite my anger. "Or maybe you're hoping some stranger will take you home tonight? Give you what I did, without all those... complicated feelings?"

I jerked away from his touch, but he followed, his body trapping me against the booth. "You're drunk," he observed, his voice dropping to that dangerous register that made my skin prickle. "Flushed. Pupils dilated." His thumb traced my lower lip, the gesture both intimate and possessive. "I remember how you taste when you've been drinking. Sweeter. Hungrier."

"Stop it," I managed, hating how breathless I sounded.

His smile was predatory. "Stop what? Reminding you how easily your body betrays you? How quickly you melt for me?" His hand found my knee again, fingers tracing idle patterns that sent waves of unwanted heat through me.