Chapter 56
DEREK
I could still feel her.
It was maddening–how her scent clung to my skin like a phantom, how the weight of her hand in mine lingered long after the music stopped. Even now, in the still quiet of my
bedroom, I could feel the way her fingers had curled instinctively around mine during that
slow, ridiculous dance.
I could hear the uneven hitch of her breath when I’d pulled her closer! Could see the way
she’d looked up at me like she wanted to trust me–just for a second–but didn’t dare.
I lay back against the headboard, bare–chested, hair still damp from the shower, staring at
the ceiling like it had answers.
She hated me. Or wanted to. I wasn’t sure there was a difference anymore. But for those few
minutes, under the soft shimmer of wedding lights, it hadn’t mattered.
She’d melted into my embrace on the dance floor. I felt it. For a few glorious minutes…
I could even now hear the soft strum of the guitar, the low tenor of the singer’s voice.
Love struck Romeo, sang the streets a serenade…Laying everybody low, with a love song
that he made…
And then, like always, I opened my mouth and I pushed her too far.
“You could be next,” I’d said. Like some kind of threat. Goddess, I was such a-
Knock knock.
Not a servant. Not a housekeeper. Too firm for that. But too polite to be a warrior.
The door opened before I could answer.
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Joe stepped inside, a grim look on his face. His boots scuffed across the wood floor. He held something behind his back–a tablet, I realized.
“Alpha,” he said, voice low. “You need to turn on the news.”
I had moved to the edge of my bed, bare–chested, a towel slung around my waist and another one around my neck. The morning was supposed to be quiet–a chance to catch my breath before the next fire that needed putting out. Apparently, I didn’t get that luxury.
Joe crossed to the television and flicked it on without waiting for my say–so. The volume was already up.
“-explosive revelations this morning,” a reporter was saying, her tone laced with the kind of gleeful scandal that only came from a major scoop. “…new video confirms that Mia,
presumed dead and former fiancée of Silverclaw Alpha Derek King, is in fact alive. And not
just alive–but none other than Elena Hart, daughter of the Moonstone Alpha.”
A deep thudding started behind my ribs.
“No,” I muttered. But the screen didn’t lie.
There it was–video footage of the Alpha Ball, Elena and me circling each other, the tension
between us so tangible it might as well have been another guest.
The footage cut to a still photo from the wedding reception, right at the moment she jerked
her arm away from me. Frozen in place, caught mid–step, her face taut with frustration. Then the flash–paparazzi.
“I was hoping they didn’t get a clear shot,” I said through clenched teeth.
Joe didn’t answer. His face was grim.
The segment continued.
“Speculation is swirling about why Elena Hart disappeared in the first place. Did she fake her death to escape an unwanted mate bond? Did the Silverclaw Alpha orchestrate her disappearance and stage her funeral?”
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I stood. Pacing now. Pants forgotten on the back of a chair.
“What the hell are they trying to do–spark a pack war?” I growled.
Joe didn’t flinch. “The footage was leaked. And I don’t think it was random.”
I swore viciously and crossed to the dresser, grabbing a clean shirt, shoving my arms through the sleeves with more force than necessary.
“Get me Moonstone. Now.”
ELENA
The news was already playing when I walked into the room, the image of myself caught in a freeze–frame on the screen, wide–eyed and sharp–angled, mid–spin from Derek. Aiden sat
on the floor, legs crossed, looking back and forth between me and the TV like he was trying to match the Elena on screen with the one now holding a mug of lukewarm tea.
My hand tightened around the cup.
“…many are questioning whether this so–called death was staged,” the anchor droned, “and what this means for the political alliance between two of the most powerful packs in the region. Is this a new, bigger rift in the making—one right before the Alliance Summit, and in the midst of the alarming uptick in hostile rogue attacks?”
“Turn it off,” I said.
Nobody moved.
Then my father stormed in.
He didn’t say anything at first. Just stood in the doorway, his shoulders squared, eyes locked on the screen. I watched as he slowly–methodically–crossed the room and clicked
the remote.
Silence.
He turned toward me. “I knew this would come back to bite us.”
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“I didn’t know someone was filming,” I said, weakly. “It was a wedding-”
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“You didn’t think this would happen?” he snapped. “You and Derek can’t even be in the same room without pulling focus! You didn’t think it’d make headlines?”
I swallowed hard.
He looked around sharply. “Where the hell is Mason?”
“Still asleep, I think-”
“He better not be. Because the press is already at the gates. And the phone hasn’t stopped ringing since sunrise.”
As if on cue, the old Beta opened the door and leaned in. “Sir, the media liaison from the Council is asking for a formal response.”
Father’s jaw worked, grinding down whatever curse he wanted to hurl.
He pointed a firm finger at me. “You will call that former fated lover of yours and tell him that we–Moonstone and Silverclaw–are holding a press conference. Together.”
I blinked. “A joint statement?”
“A damn performance,” he growled. “You will stand next to him and smile for the cameras and tell the world that everything is fine. That this alliance is solid.”
I hesitated. “And if I don’t?”
He straightened. “Then you can explain to every pack across the region why their tenuous hope for unity just crumbled because two spoiled Alphas couldn’t get over themselves.”
The room went still.
I nodded. “Fine.”
“Good,” he said, turning for the door.
“Do you think he leaked it?” I asked quietly. “Derek?”
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He paused but didn’t look back. “If he did, he’s an idiot. And if he didn’t? Then we’re all in danger.”
And then he left.
I looked down at the phone in my hand. It was already ringing. Press calls. Council calls. A world spinning out.
Aiden tugged at the hem of my shirt.
“Are you in trouble?”
I bent down and kissed the top of his head.
“No, sweetheart,” I whispered. “We just have a little acting to do.”
I pulled out my phone and dialed Derek’s number. For whatever reason, I still had it
programmed into my phone.
He answered on the first ring.
“Derek?” I said, and he launched into a flurry of words. Words of apology, words of reassurance, words of support.
And then he said exactly what I hoped he would.
“You know what,” I said, when I could finally get a word in. “For once we’re in complete agreement. I was thinking the exact same thing.”
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