“And I swear, Selene, if anything happens to Brielle, you’ll regret it,” he hissed, venom lacing every syllable.
Before I could reply, he swept past me, moving with predatory speed, and lifted Brielle into his arms in a bridal carry. His voice, usually commanding, softened as he murmured soothing words into her fur, and within moments they had vanished down the hall.
I followed, but my thoughts roared louder than my legs could move. Accusations of my supposed cruelty to Brielle spun in my mind like a cyclone. He didn’t even glance back as he mounted his sleek black wolf-car and vanished into the night.
I reached for the passenger’s seat, but the door slammed shut with a growl as the car accelerated away, leaving me sprawled against the cold stone ground. My cheeks burned—not with the slap, but with humiliation—while the packhands lingering nearby exchanged whispers and furtive glances, as though I were some marked prey.
I summoned a carriage and returned to our den. Tears streamed freely as I looked upon the home we had shared for half a decade. Its halls echoed emptiness, mirroring the hollowness gnawing at my chest. How could Gideon assume so readily that I had harmed her, when the fall had been entirely her own doing?
I opened the wardrobe, methodically folding my garments into my travel bag. Deep down, I had gone to see Gideon hoping for reassurance, some fleeting shred of loyalty that might tether me to our bond. But now, every hope crumbled. His heart, I realized bitterly, had long since left me. There was no reason to cling to the shadows of a marriage that had dissolved into nothingness.
I had nearly filled the suitcase when the door slammed open. Gideon stormed in, his nostrils flaring, the heat of his anger radiating through the den. His gaze swept over me without a flicker of notice for my packing.
“Come with me,” he demanded, yanking my arm with the strength of an Alpha.
I wrenched free. “Let me go!”
“Now! Move!” he barked, his voice like a whip.
“Where are you taking me?” I groaned, planting my feet stubbornly.
It was futile—he was stronger, faster. Within moments, he had me in his grip, dragging me toward the waiting moon-lit streets.
“To the medics. You’re going to save her—she’s hurt because of you,” he snapped, his words sharp as fang and claw.
“I didn’t touch her! She fell on her own,” I protested.