Chapter 2

Viya's POV

Something was wrong.

And the agony was so intense I had to brace myself against the wall to keep from collapsing.

It felt like molten metal was being poured directly into my heart, burning through every nerve ending in my body.

"Viya!" Serena's voice grew distant in my mind. "I'll take the pain...I'm going to sleep now."

The agony subsided almost immediately, but an eerie silence followed.

"Serena?" I called internally, panic rising when she didn't respond. "Serena!"

Nothing. My wolf had sacrificed herself to protect me, taking on the supernatural backlash that came from rejecting a matebond—even an unconsummated one.

I had no time to process this development. Voices continued flowing from behind the door, and I needed proof before confronting Lucius.

With trembling fingers, I pulled my phone from my purse and opened the recording app.

"When will you announce our relationship?" Miranda was asking, her voice sickeningly sweet. "I'm tired of pretending."

"After the full moon ceremony next week," Lucius replied. "Once her wolf is completely dormant, I'll announce that the Goddess Moon has withdrawn her blessing from our union. No one will question it—everyone's already noticed how sickly she's become."

"And if she does fight?"

"She won't fight it," Lucius said confidently. "She's always been pathetically accommodating. But if she tries, I'll ensure she has no support. Alpha Blackwood hasn't spoken to her in years.Who would stand against an Alpha for a weakened, rejected mate with no pack ties?"

Their callous laughter made my blood boil.

I'd heard enough. Stopping the recording, I immediately forwarded it to Sophia, my closest friend and the best divorce attorney in the werewolf community, along with a text:

[I need you. Divorce papers. Now.]

Her response was almost immediate: [FINALLY! On my way. Meet me at Moonlight Bar in 30.]

I took one last look at the door that concealed my husband and his mistress, then silently walked away, leaving behind the remains of my dignity and the last three years of my life.

Twenty minutes later, Sophia burst into Moonlight Bar like a whirlwind in Louboutins and a power suit, her eyes scanning the dimly lit space until they found me nursing a whiskey neat at the corner booth.

"Thank the Goddess Moon!" she exclaimed, sliding into the seat opposite me. "I've been waiting three years to hear you say those words!"

She pulled out her tablet, already tapping away with manicured nails. "I've been drafting your divorce papers since your wedding day. Call it professional intuition."

Despite everything, I managed a weak laugh. "Was I the only one who didn't see this coming?"

"Honey, you wanted to believe in the fairytale," she said, her voice softening momentarily before returning to business mode.

"I've already listened to that recording. The pack council won't be able to ignore this—not only is he cheating, but he's been deliberately poisoning your wolf. That's a capital offense in werewolf law."

"I don't want revenge," I said quietly. "I just want out."

"I know, sweetie, but you deserve compensation for what he's done," Sophia insisted, her professional persona momentarily giving way to friendship.

"Three years of your life with that asshole? The herbs he's been giving you could have permanently damaged Serena."

At the mention of my wolf, pain lanced through my chest. "She's not responding, Sophia. She took the brunt of the rejection backlash."

Concern flashed across her face. "She'll recover. Wolves are resilient, especially when removing themselves from toxic bonds." She reached across the desk and squeezed my hand. "You need to see a wolf healer."

"I am a wolf healer," I reminded her with a weak smile.

"You know what I mean. Someone who can treat you." She closed her tablet. "Now drink up—tonight we celebrate your freedom!"

Sophia had ordered round after round, determined to help me forget, if only for one night.

"To freedom!" Sophia declared, raising her third whiskey of the night.

I clinked my glass against hers, the tequila burning pleasantly as it went down. Two hours into our impromptu celebration, and I was feeling wonderfully numb. Without Serena's influence moderating my alcohol tolerance, the drinks had hit me harder than expected.

"You know," I said, my words slightly slurred, "I actually thought he might love me someday. How pathetic is that?"

Sophia snorted. "Not pathetic. Optimistic. There's a difference."

I laughed, the sound freer than I'd felt in years. "You know the worst part? I don't even think I ever loved him. I just wanted to belong somewhere."

"You belong with someone who actually deserves you," Sophia insisted, her words carrying the weight of drunk sincerity.

The bartender delivered another round, and I reached for my glass, needing the burn of alcohol to drown out the remnants of pain. As I tilted my head back, my gaze fixed on a tall figure at the bar.

The man stood with his back to me, but something about his broad shoulders and commanding presence sent a thrill down my spine.

Expensive suit. Powerful stance. Dark hair that looked like it would feel like silk between fingers.

Maybe it was the tequila. Maybe it was my newly found freedom. Whatever the reason, I found myself sliding off my barstool, ignoring Sophia's alarmed "Viya, don't—"

I crossed the room with determined, if slightly unsteady steps.

"Buy me a drink?" I purred, pressing myself against his solid back. My hands slid around his waist, feeling hard muscle beneath fine fabric.

The scent that hit me—dark woods and iron—was intoxicating, stirring something primal within me.

He stiffened instantly at my touch. When he turned, lightning-fast reflexes belying the controlled power in his movements, his face came into view.

My breath caught in my throat.

Caesar Blackwood. The Alpha of the Blackwood Pack—one of the most powerful werewolves in North America.

The man who had raised me since I was twelve.

"Viya?" His deep voice sent violent shivers through me despite my drunken state. His grey-blue eyes widened with shock before narrowing dangerously.

But I was too far gone—alcohol and hurt and years of repressed desire clouding my judgment.

Instead of backing away, I leaned closer, my breasts pressing against his chest,my voice a sultry whisper. "Don't you want to play with me?"

Caesar's jaw clenched so tight I thought it might crack. His eyes flashed alpha-gold, pupils dilating as his nostrils flared. For one breathtaking moment, his hands gripped my waist, fingers digging into the thin fabric of my crimson dress.

"You have no fucking idea what you're asking for," he growled, his voice dropping to that dangerous alpha timbre that made my core throb with want.

His grip tightened, pulling me closer instead of pushing me away. I could feel every hard inch of him against me, betraying his control.

"Maybe I do," I challenged, emboldened by tequila and the heat in his eyes.

I rolled my hips against him, making his breath hitch. The unmistakable hardness pressing against my lower belly sent a thrill of power through me. "Maybe I've always known exactly what I wanted... daddy."

I didn't wait for his response, capturing his lips with mine. His mouth was hot, demanding, tasting of expensive scotch and forbidden desire.

For three glorious seconds, he responded with barely restrained violence, his tongue sliding against mine as one large hand fisted in my hair.

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, he tore himself away, physically pushing me back.

"Viya?" His deep voice rumbled through the space between us. "What the hell are you doing here? Look carefully at who you're touching!"