Chapter 35
Cassie was dumbfounded.
She thought she’d gotten through to him, but it was all for nothing. “You love her, and you slept with
Vanessa?
Why don’t you just drop dead!”
She slammed the desk, fuming, itching to chuck the ashtray at his head if she thought she could take him.
Alpha Adrian stood, the shredded bond-severing agreement fluttering from his lap to the floor in a scattered
mess. “Everything she sold or burned, I’ll get it back-her heart included! We’ll make it right. She’s mine, now
and forever!” With that, he stormed out.
Cassie froze for a few seconds, then jumped up, chasing to the door.
“That was just a copy, you idiot! Tearing it up won’t stop this! It’s useless!”
Damn mutt! Playing the devoted mate now?
Where was that energy before?
Late love’s cheaper than dirt. She rubbed her aching temples.
With his attitude, breaking this bond was gonna be a fight.
The rainy spring night felt like deep autumn, cold and biting.
Alpha Adrian sat on the steps outside the villa’s entrance, watching footage from the day Vivian burned their bonding photos.
Her eyes, so sad yet resolute, as she tossed the lighter into the bucket.
What was he doing then?
He saw himself inside, laughing on a call, oblivious.
The memory hit like a ghost-he couldn’t face it, couldn’t dwell on it, couldn’t bear to think.
If he could turn back time, he’d beg her forgiveness, swear she was the only one in his heart. Rain mixed with the hot tears rolling down his face.
Ryan, holding an umbrella behind him, couldn’t keep the downpour at bay.
He didn’t meddle in his boss’s personal life, but this outcome seemed inevitable. Vivian was sharp as a tack.
“Go buy back every piece of jewelry she sold. Put it back where it belongs,” Alpha Adrian ordered.
“Yes, sir.” “The bonding photos-reprint them, same frames, hang them where they were.” “Got it.”
Ryan agreed to everything.
But repurchased jewelry wasn’t the original, and reprinted photos were just copies.
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The meaning they held was gone. Would Vivian care?
Alpha Adrian’s phone buzzed.
He answered slowly. “Alpha Adrian, we found Vivian’s trail. Yesterday afternoon, she used her card at a
Shaloria mall.”
“Shaloria?”
His brow furrowed.
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“Impossible. I didn’t find any flight records.”
“We confirmed her exit on a private jet, but they wouldn’t disclose the owner.”
Alpha Adrian’s face darkened. He hung up, striding into the storm.
“Get the crew ready. I’m going to Shaloria. And check if Alpha Gideon’s there.”
The next morning, I grabbed a quick breakfast-dried venison strips and a bowl of spiced grain porridge,
staples that fuel a wolf through long days-and changed into a tailored linen shirt.
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<Chapter 35
I slipped a voice recorder into my bag, and headed out of the hotel.
Alpha Gideon was prepping for the summit when he noticed I wasn’t around.
“Where’s she?” he asked.
Elliot, ever smooth, kept it casual.
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“At the plant. Found some discrepancies in the logs, wanted to check them out. Might be nothing.”
“Not skipping out because I manhandled her last night?”
Alpha Gideon pressed, his eyes narrowing-he remembered yanking me, all right, the memory sharp as a
fresh scar.
“Nah. It’s a real issue, small but worth chasing. Figured your schedule’s jammed, so she went to handle it,”
Elliot said.
Alpha Gideon grunted, dropping it.
I took a hired car to the factory, the coastal road winding past coves where salt spray hung thick, carrying
wild scent of distant packs.
N
At the island facility, I flashed my credentials-embossed with the pack’s crest.
The manager, Walter Briggs, stepped forward, flanked by a nervous stats clerk and a finance rep.
Walter was a stocky wolf in his forties, his skin deep as polished ebony, his posture rigid with the deference
of someone who’d clawed his way up from the factory floor over sixteen years.
“Been counting the minutes since word came Alpha Gideon’s inspecting,” Walter said, his smile broad but
eyes wary.
“The crew’s itching to stand in the presence of a true alpha.”
I smirked, letting the tease land light.
“Afraid his shadow won’t reach this far today-summit’s got him tied. You’re stuck with me.”
“Stuck? Vivian, you shine brighter than a summer moon. A privilege, this is,”
Walter shot back.
“Flattery’ll get you everywhere, Walter,” I said, keeping it light.
After the obligatory small talk-production quotas, supply chain hiccups-Walter led me through the offices,
the roaring workshop, and the bustling mess hall.
I lingered, asking questions, snapping photos with my phone, muttering,
“Alpha Gideon’ll want to see this,” to keep them off guard.
Walter nodded, his smile never slipping.
By noon, I joined the workers in the mess line, plopping down with three she-wolf laborers.
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We chatted about the heat, the grueling night shifts, before I steered the conversation to clock-in protocols.
“The punch machine’s by the workshop door-no eyes on it,” one said, between bites of stew.
Easy enough to swipe two cards. No one’d notice.
“Heard this place has… ghosts,”.
“Ghosts?” A young she-wolf’s ears perked up, her eyes wide.
“Branch manager mentioned it. Two names clock in daily, but no one’s ever laid eyes on ’em.”
They exchanged glances-shock, confusion, a flicker of fear.
Finally, the oldest, her face lined with years of work, spoke up.
“You mean Hank Miller and Tanya Brooks?”
My pulse quickened.
“That’s the pair. You know something?”
“I’ve been here decades-these two are new, so they wouldn’t. At first, we didn’t think twice. Work’s hard, you don’t track every face. But after a while… no one’d seen them. Asked the floor supervisor, and he snapped, ‘Mind your own damn business. So we shut up.”
The youngest gasped. “Who’s swiping their cards, then? Spirits?”
The third leaned in, voice a whisper. “Heard some wolves’ essence lingers, repeats their old routines. Maybe they died here?”
I stayed quiet, letting their words hang.
They were innocent, that much was clear.
My recorder, hidden in my bag, drank in every syllable-including the names.
Across the hall, Walter, the stats clerk, and the finance rep watched me like hawks.
I called them all in-the floor supervisor, HR, stats, finance, Walter.
I smiled, calm as can be.
“I’d like to meet Hank Miller and Tanya Brooks.”
Silence.
The supervisor moved first, striding to the door.
He slammed it shut. Locked it.
C
