Chapter 428
Chapter 428:
As I stared at the contract, a ghost of a memory assaulted me. Five years ago. A tiny, cramped apartment. Adelina Wolfe. I remembered the way her scent of wild roses and storm used to cling to my cheap bedsheets. I remembered the way she looked at me with pure, unconditional devotion. And I remembered how I had thrown her away, blinded by my own stupidity, chasing the hollow prestige Kira Parrish had offered.
The contrast between Adelina’s warm, fierce love and the icy, transactional hell sitting across from me tore my soul to shreds.
“We don’t have all day, Jase,” Isabelle snapped, tapping her manicured nail against the table.
Blind with self-loathing and the terrifying threat of becoming a Rogue, my shaking hand picked up the heavy gold pen. I didn’t even read the rest of the clauses. I simply scrawled my name, signing away my freedom, my pride, and my Pack.
Isabelle snatched the folder back, slipping it into her briefcase like a newly acquired asset. The triumphant gleam in her eyes made my stomach heave.
I couldn’t breathe. I shoved my velvet chair backward so violently it tipped over, crashing against the hardwood floor. Wealthy diners gasped, but I didn’t care. I bolted, bursting through the heavy glass doors and stumbling out onto the concrete sidewalk bordering Central Park.
𝘉e 𝗉a𝘳𝗍 o𝗳 o𝗎𝘳 c𝗼𝗺𝗺u𝗇𝗶t𝘆 on 𝘨а𝗹n𝘰𝗏е𝗹ѕ.𝗰о𝗺
The cool autumn air was tainted with exhaust fumes and the sour, desperate stench of my own ruined Alpha scent. I collapsed onto a cold wrought-iron bench, my chest heaving as I fought off a panic attack.
Desperate to numb the agonizing reality of what I had just done, I pulled my phone from my pocket and blindly opened the browser.
The universe, it seemed, wasn’t done punishing me.
The screen loaded, and the top story from The Howl — the werewolf world’s premier gossip outlet — dominated the page. The bold red headline hit like a physical blow to the gut: The King and His Queen: A Sacred Honeymoon on the Isle of the White Wolf.
Beneath it was a leaked paparazzi photo. Taken from a distance and slightly blurry, yet there was no mistaking them. Adelina Wolfe and the Lycan King, Kain Blackwell.
They were standing on a pristine white-sand beach, the sky painted with the brilliant colors of an Aegean sunset. Kain’s massive arm was wrapped tightly around her waist, his face buried in the crook of her neck in a display of overwhelming, possessive affection. And Adelina — Adelina had her head thrown back, laughing. It was a raw, uninhibited, radiant joy. Even through a screen, I could practically feel the Soul’s Peace radiating from her — the absolute serenity of a Queen who was fiercely, unconditionally loved by her Fated Mate.
She was bathed in light, while I had just chained myself to the dark.
The devastating contrast shattered whatever was left of my sanity. My fingers went numb. The phone slipped from my grasp, hitting the concrete with a sharp crack. The screen splintered into a spiderweb of broken glass, fracturing right across Adelina’s beautiful, joyous smile.
My legs gave out. I slid off the bench, collapsing onto the filthy, freezing pavement. I pulled my knees to my chest, buried my face in my hands, and let a raw, guttural sob tear from my throat — drowned out by the indifferent footsteps of the city.