Chapter 478
Chapter 478:
I leaned across the aisle, keeping my voice barely above a whisper so only Kain’s heightened hearing could catch it. “Look at him, Kain p>
Kain lowered his tablet, his golden eyes flicking toward his brother. “Grant is finally securing his den. He has his Mate and his pup p>
“He’s performing,” I murmured, my brow furrowing. “When Arthur Sterling reached for Carmella at the estate, she looked like she was going to shatter. A Lycan’s protective instinct over his Mate is absolute, Kain. If a man terrified me like that, your Inner Wolf would have torn his throat out on the spot p>
Kain’s jaw tightened slightly, his gaze narrowing on Grant’s broad back.
“Grant didn’t look surprised by her terror,” I continued, a cold shiver running down my arms. “He looked like he expected it. He’s ignoring the root of her pain to keep this perfect family illusion intact p>
I leaned back into my leather seat and stared at the pristine white snow beyond the window. The picture-perfect family in front of me suddenly felt like a gilded cage resting on a bed of explosives.
“How many secrets can one Pack bear, Kain?” I whispered into the quiet cabin.
Carmella Golden POV
The rain was freezing, but it was nothing compared to the absolute ice in Arthur Sterling’s mahogany office.
Cut ties with the Lycan heir, or your bloodline burns.
The documents Arthur had thrown on his desk were irrefutable. My father, the Alpha of my Pack, had committed a blood crime. If Arthur handed that file to the Continental Pack Council, my entire family would be executed. I had no choice. I had to make myself entirely worthless to the Blackstone family so Arthur would destroy the evidence.
𝘋on’𝘵 𝗆𝘪𝘴ѕ 𝗻𝖾w 𝗋𝖾𝗅е𝗮𝘀es 𝗼ո
I stood on the wet pavement of the Ivy League campus, looking into Grant’s devastated, desperate eyes. Every word I spoke was a shard of glass in my throat.
“I, Carmella, reject you, Grant Blackwell, as my mate p>
The invisible, sacred Mate-bond snapped. The agony was apocalyptic, tearing my soul into two jagged, bleeding halves. Through the torrential rain, Grant let out a deafening, inhuman roar — the sound of a Lycan’s soul being shredded alive.
I gasped, shooting up in the massive bed.
My chest heaved as I clawed at the thick fur blankets. The master suite of the Blackstone’s Aspen lodge was quiet, the fireplace crackling warmly against the snowy mountain backdrop beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. My ankle throbbed with a dull, heavy ache.
That morning, seeking a moment of quiet, I had stepped onto the pool deck. I hadn’t seen the thin sheet of ice where the heated infinity pool met the freezing air. I slipped. The blinding pain of the severe sprain had nearly made me pass out, and Grant had materialized in a terrifying flash of Lycan speed, his protective instincts completely overriding my protests. He had forced the Pack Doctor to administer a werewolf-grade sedative.
But the heavy drug had done more than numb my physical pain. It had shattered the fragile mental barriers in my mind, unlocking the agonizing truth of my past.