Chapter 5 Five

Anastasia’s pov

His command sends my brain into overdrive.

“What is wrong with you?” I whisper harshly, scrubbing at the tears on my cheeks. “I’m not going to do that just because you asked. What if Damon sees us?”

He stares at me, blank and unbothered. “Do I look like I give two fucks?”

I glance at him once more and sigh. “No. You don’t.”

“Exactly. So, are you taking it off, or should I do you the honors?”

He steps closer, his thumbs brushing across my damp cheeks in slow, deliberate circles that make my skin tingle. My sinful thoughts rise, unbidden. Then his touch drifts lower his thumb grazing my lips as if to erase the lipstick staining them. My eyes close involuntarily, my body betraying me as I lean into him, savoring the dangerous calm that only he brings.

When I open my eyes, his breath is already mingling with mine.

I wait for it, the kiss.

But he doesn’t give it. He lingers, tormenting me with his restraint.

“Enjoy the party,” Damon’s voice booms from outside the kitchen, cracking through the haze like lightning.

I flinch back, my face burning with shame and fear. Victor’s expression hardens instantly. He mutters a curse under his breath, the storm in his eyes undeniable.

“I—I have to go,” I stammer, smoothing my dress frantically. “Damon must be looking for me.”

Victor inhales sharply through his teeth. “No one gives a fuck about Damon.” His voice is low, dangerous. “I’m letting you go only because you’ll be coming over tomorrow night. Right, Anastasia?”

Tomorrow night?

The image slams into me—Damon storming into the kitchen, seeing me rumpled, ruined, caught in his father’s arms. My heart pounds. Against every shred of reason, I nod.

Victor’s lips brush my cheek in a fleeting kiss before he releases me.

This is wrong. This is utterly, irredeemably wrong.

When I step out of the kitchen, Damon is waiting. His grip clamps onto my shoulder, iron-hard, digging deep into my skin. I wince as he drags me away.

“This might be my father’s party,” he growls, “but we hold just as much importance as he does. Next time you want to wander off, think about what people will say when they see me walking around without my wife beside me.”

I bite my tongue. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Of course you didn’t.” His smile turns brittle as Zack and his fiancée pass by, and he nods at them smoothly.

We circulate, Damon shaking hands, exchanging pleasantries. Eventually he spots an acquaintance and slips into conversation, leaving me perched on a sofa with a glass of red wine.

Across the hall, I watch him laugh, gesture, discuss pack matters with a sharp intensity. His mask of control and authority is flawless, but I know what lurks beneath it: the liar, the cheater, the monster.

My fists clench. My resentment boils.

One of the men chuckles. “Some hot women here in Berry-Woods, Damon. Any catching your eye? Or are you the ‘green flag,’ as my daughter likes to call it?”

Damon’s gaze flicks briefly toward a group of gossiping women. His eyes linger a moment too long. Then he shrugs. “Just distractions. My Luna is more than enough for me.”

Liar. Liar. Pants on fire.

I roll my eyes and take another gulp of wine, letting my thoughts slip back to Victor. His demand. Tomorrow night. My skin heats with shame as sinful images cloud my mind again.

The cushion beside me sinks, dragging me back. Penelope.

She’s in a revealing dress—the very one she once insisted I wear for my twenty-first birthday. Too daring, too scandalous for the Luna of the pack.

“Oh God, Ana, I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” she slurs, tilting her head back with a sniff. She’s drunk. She always does that sniff when she’s drunk.

I study her through narrowed eyes, clinging to my composure. Killing her with words—or worse—won’t undo the betrayal.

“What do you want?” I mutter, sipping my wine.

“Nothing, really. I just saw Damon earlier and thought you were with him.”

Damon. Not Alpha Damon.

“Oh. Cool.”

“Ana?” she murmurs softly.

“What?”

She grabs my cheeks, turning my face toward hers. “Are you mad at me? Did I do something wrong? You’ve been avoiding me… You don’t even look at me. Do I disgust you that much?”

Yes, Penelope. You disgust me so much I want to wring the alcohol and lies right out of you.

But my heart splinters instead.

Once upon a time, this would’ve ended in laughter. She used to take pictures of me whenever I zoned out, ranting about how men in dramas loved it. She used to adore my quirks. I did nothing to deserve what she did.

And yet… I can’t fully hate her. Not the way I should.

“When did you decide to ruin everything?” I whisper under my breath, too quiet for her to hear.

I gently move her hands away and glance across the hall—straight to Victor. He sips from his glass with a composure that makes every other man seem like a boy. My chest tightens.

The clock strikes midnight. Damon and Victor conclude their speeches, the crowd applauds, and the party begins to dissolve. Laughter, music, wine—it all blurs into background noise.

I catch Penelope leaning heavily against Damon, her giggles shrill, her hands too familiar on him. He doesn’t push her away.

The last guests file out. Victor dismisses them with his usual grace, his eyes meeting mine for only a fleeting second.

Then Damon speaks. “Father, have one of your guards take Anastasia home. Penelope’s tipsy—I’ll drop her off.”

My heart sinks. He doesn’t even consider me. Doesn’t even glance my way.

Victor’s jaw ticks, though his face remains composed. “Of course,” he says, calling for two guards to escort me.

I watch as Damon departs with Penelope on his arm, my chest hollow with familiar sorrow.

Then, suddenly, Victor is beside me. He pulls me close, his lips crushing mine in a desperate kiss, raw with the weight of everything we’ve been denying.

For one reckless moment, I let go. I let myself drown in him, in the warmth and the hunger. It feels like oxygen, like life.

And then it ends. Too quickly.

He releases me with a heavy breath, and I stumble back into reality—into loneliness.

The ride home is a blur. His kiss lingers on my lips like a brand, sweet and poisonous. My thoughts twist: this is wrong, forbidden, damning… and yet I crave it.

Victor has a past, yes. A reputation. He’s been with women who made his wife insecure, who whispered about him for years. But when he touches me, when he looks at me—it feels like he can’t breathe without me.

And maybe I can’t without him.

The car pulls into the driveway. My chest clenches when I see Damon waiting, his expression shattered with fury.

As I step out, his eyes pin me in place, cold and merciless.

A chilling wave of dread crashes over me.

Only one question burns through my mind:

What now?