Delilah POV

The taxi ride back to the Mcclain Estate was a blur of grey buildings and rising panic. When I finally stepped into the foyer, the silence of the house hit me like a physical weight. It didn't smell like a home; it smelled of lemon polish and cold, stagnant air.

I sprinted up the stairs, my heels clicking frantically against the marble, and locked myself in the master bathroom.

My hands shook as I tore off the ruined silver dress, kicking it into the corner. I turned the shower on, cranking the handle until the water was steaming, bordering on scalding. I stepped in, hissing as the heat hit my skin, and grabbed the loofah.

Scrub. Scrub it off.

I dragged the rough sponge over my skin until it turned raw and red, desperate to erase the scent of him.

Sandalwood, storm, and musk.

It was clinging to me, seeping into my pores, branding me. But the harder I scrubbed, the more my inner wolf whined in protest. She didn't want to lose it. She was clawing at my chest, mourning the loss of the intoxicating comfort we had felt in that stranger's bed.

Stop it, I hissed at her, tears mingling with the spray of the shower. "He was a mistake."

Suddenly, the bathroom door banged open.

I shrieked, grabbing a towel to cover myself just as Jaden stormed in. He was still wearing his tuxedo from last night, his tie undone, his face twisted in a snarl that was more petulant than threatening.

There you are, he spat, his voice echoing off the tile. "Do you have any idea how foolish I looked last night? My wife, disappearing in the middle of the most important Gala of the year?"

He didn't ask if I was hurt. He didn't ask where I had been. He only cared about the optics.

I... I was sick, I stammered, clutching the towel tighter against my chest, terrified he would catch a whiff of the Alpha scent that still lingered faintly beneath the steam. "I had a migraine. I took a cab home."

You're always sick, Jaden sneered, stepping closer. His scent—faint, sour, and unimpressive—assaulted my nose. "You're weak, Delilah. A pathetic excuse for a Mcclain wife. Everyone was asking where you were, and I had to lie for you."

He loomed over me, trying to intimidate me, but as he turned his head slightly, the morning light from the high window hit his neck.

I froze.

There, just above his collarbone, was a mark. It was fresh, angry, and red. Three distinct lines curved into his skin.

A claw mark.

The fear that had been choking me moments ago evaporated, replaced by a cold, sharp clarity.

What is that? I asked, my voice surprisingly steady.

Jaden blinked, his momentum stalling. "What?"

I pointed a trembling finger at his neck. "That mark, Jaden. That's a claw mark. From a she-wolf."

His hand flew to his neck, covering the scratch. His heartbeat spiked—I could hear the frantic rhythm of it even over the running water.

Don't be ridiculous, he snapped, his eyes darting away. "It's from training this morning. A branch snagged me."

You don't train, I said, stepping out of the shower, water pooling at my feet. "You haven't joined the pack run in six months. You tell everyone you're too busy with 'finances'."

Cornered, his face flushed a deep, ugly crimson. "You're delusional," he shouted, backing away toward the door. "This is why I can't stand being around you! You're paranoid, suffocating, and useless! Clean yourself up. You look like a drowned rat."

He slammed the door behind him, the sound vibrating through the walls.

I stood there, shivering, water dripping from my hair. He was lying. I knew it. My wolf knew it.

I wrapped the towel around me and walked into the bedroom. Jaden was gone, but in his haste to escape my accusation, he had left his phone on the nightstand.

As if on cue, the screen lit up.

A message preview popped up. The sender was saved simply as "B".

"The morning sickness is driving my wolf crazy. Jaden, you promised you'd get the supplements to calm my wolf from the Pack Healer."

The air left my lungs.

B. Brielle Sims.

The pop star. The wolf who had skyrocketed to fame singing "ancient ballads" that were actually my songs—melodies I had written in the dead of night, poured from my soul, only to have Jaden call them trash and then secretly feed them to his mistress.

And now... morning sickness.

I stared at the screen, my vision blurring. I had begged Jaden for a pup for two years. He had told me we weren't ready. He had told me he didn't want the burden.

But he was giving a pup to her.

He had stolen my art, my dignity, and now, the family I had prayed for.

A cold, dark rage settled in my chest, silencing my weeping wolf. The tears stopped. The fear of the man in the hotel room, the fear of Jaden—it all burned away into ash.

I didn't scream. I didn't throw the phone.

I walked to the east wing of the estate, to the dusty storage room no one ever entered. I pushed aside a heavy stack of boxes and pressed the hidden latch on the wainscoting. The panel clicked open, revealing my sanctuary.

It was a tiny, windowless space, just big enough for a desk and my keyboard. The walls were plastered with my original sheet music—the proof of my soul that Brielle was currently butchering on the radio.

I sat down at my encrypted laptop and opened a secure line. My fingers flew across the keys, typing a message to the only person in this world I could trust—Charley Knowles, a human hacker who owed me a life debt.

"Charley,"I typed, my jaw set so hard it ached. "I need a favor. I need Jaden Mcclain's financial records, his call logs, and his location history for the last year."

A reply pinged back instantly. "Target acquired. What's the endgame, D?"

I looked at the sheet music on the wall, then down at my trembling hands.

"Total destruction,"I whispered to the empty room.

I hit send. I was done being the victim. If Jaden wanted a war, I would give him one he would never survive.

Delilah POV

Three days of silence had settled over the Mcclain Estate, thick and suffocating like a wool blanket. Since the night of the Gala, Jaden and I had existed in separate orbits, ghosts haunting the same hallway.

I sat at the long mahogany dining table, pushing a piece of dry toast around my plate. My phone, hidden in my lap, was silent. Charley was still digging, mining the digital depths of Jaden's life for the ammunition I needed to blow it all apart. Until then, I had to wait. I had to breathe.

Pack a bag, Jaden said abruptly, not looking up from his tablet. His voice was tight, strung with a tension that made the hair on my arms stand up. "We're leaving for the Hamptons in an hour."

I froze, my fork clattering against the china. "The Hamptons? Why?"

The Harvest Moon Assembly, he muttered, finally glancing at me. His eyes were bloodshot, rimmed with dark circles that spoke of sleepless nights. "Carter is back."

The name sucked the air out of the room. Carter. The Alpha King. Jaden's older brother and the terrifying ruler of the Blackwood Pack. I had never met him—he had been away expanding pack territories in Europe since before our arranged marriage—but his reputation was a living, breathing monster in this house.

I'm not going, I said, my voice steady despite the sudden spike in my pulse. "We had a deal, Jaden. I stay out of pack politics, and you leave me alone. I'm not parading around in front of your family just so you can play the devoted husband."

Jaden slammed his hand on the table, the sound echoing like a gunshot. "Do you think I have a choice? This is a direct summons! An Alpha Command!"

He stood up, his chair screeching against the floor, and marched over to me. The scent of his fear—sour milk and burnt rubber—was so pungent it made my wolf curl her lip in disgust.

Carter isn't like father, Jaden hissed, leaning down until his face was inches from mine. "He smells weakness. He scents lies like a shark scents blood. If I show up alone, he'll start asking questions. He'll dig. And if he digs..." Jaden's voice cracked, panic fracturing his arrogance. "I need you there, Delilah. You will wear the sapphire ring, you will smile, and you will keep your mouth shut. Do you understand?"

He was terrified. The man who tormented me daily was trembling at the mere thought of his brother.

Fine, I whispered, pulling away from his foul breath. "I'll go."

Good, he straightened, adjusting his cuffs, the mask of superiority sliding back into place. "Be ready in twenty minutes. And wear something that says 'Mcclain', not 'charity case'."

I left him in the dining room and ascended the marble stairs, my legs feeling heavy. I wasn't doing this for him. I was doing it to buy time. If Carter Mcclain was as perceptive as Jaden feared, one wrong move could expose everything—including my plan to destroy Jaden.

Inside the master bedroom, I moved to the vanity. My hands were shaking as I opened the velvet-lined jewelry box. I needed my diamond studs—the simple, elegant ones that were the only gift from my late mother. They were my armor.

I picked up one stud, the diamond catching the morning light.

I reached for the second one.

My fingers brushed against empty velvet.

I frowned, tipping the box toward the light. Nothing.

Panic, cold and sharp, pricked at my skin. I dumped the contents of the box onto the cold marble counter. Necklaces, bracelets, and rings spilled out in a glittering heap, but the second earring was gone.

No, no, no, I breathed, dropping to my knees. I frantically patted the thick carpet, checking under the vanity, inside my purse, even in the bathroom sink.

It wasn't here.

My mind reeled back to three days ago. The Citadel Hotel. The penthouse suite. The tangled sheets and the heat of a stranger's body.

I had taken them off. I remembered the distinct clink of metal on the nightstand before... before everything blurred into sensation.

I had left it there.

I sat back on my heels, the blood draining from my face. A diamond earring wasn't just a piece of jewelry; it was a breadcrumb. A distinct, traceable clue left in the bed of the man I had used and discarded.

If Jaden found out I lost it, he would fly into a rage. But if that stranger found it...

I didn't know who the man in the hotel was, only that he was powerful, rich, and likely a Mcclain associate given he was staying at the Citadel. If he decided to find the owner of the jewelry, he could lead a straight line right back to me.

You're paranoid, I told myself, forcing a breath into my constricted lungs. It's just an earring. The cleaning staff probably vacuumed it up.

But my wolf paced anxiously in my mind, whining at the loss. She didn't care about the diamond; she cared that we had left a piece of ourselves with him.

Delilah! The car is waiting! Jaden's voice boomed from the foyer below.

I scrambled to my feet. I couldn't look for it anymore. I grabbed the remaining diamond stud and shoved it deep into the back of my underwear drawer, hiding the evidence of the pair.

With trembling fingers, I reached for the heavy sapphire ring Jaden had demanded I wear. I slid it onto my finger. It felt cold and heavy, like a shackle.

I took one last look in the mirror. The woman staring back was pale, her eyes wide with a secret terror that had nothing to do with Jaden Mcclain.

I was walking into the lion's den, and I had left the key to my destruction in a stranger's bed.

Delilah POV

The rain lashed against the tinted windows of the SUV as we crunched up the gravel driveway of the Mcclain Ancestral Estate. The house wasn't a home; it was a fortress of gray stone perched on the edge of a cliff, overlooking the churning Atlantic. It looked like it was built to withstand a siege, or perhaps to keep prisoners from escaping.

Jaden's leg bounced nervously beside me. The closer we got, the more the air inside the car soured with his scent—acrid anxiety and damp fear.

Remember what I said, Jaden snapped as the car rolled to a halt. He grabbed my forearm, his fingers digging into the tender flesh hard enough to bruise. "Smile. Nod. Do not speak unless spoken to. Carter isn't just my brother; he is the King. If you embarrass me, Delilah, you will wish you were back in the cellar."

I know, I whispered, pulling my arm away. I rubbed the spot where his nails had bitten in. "I won't say a word."

He glared at me, adjusting his tie with trembling hands. It was pathetic. The man who made my life a living hell was reduced to a shivering child at the mere prospect of seeing his older brother.

We stepped out into the biting wind and were ushered into the Great Hall. It was a cavernous space, the walls lined with the mounted heads of stags and bears, their glass eyes watching us. The room was packed with high-ranking wolves—Betas, Gammas, and visiting dignitaries—but the moment the heavy oak doors at the top of the grand staircase opened, the chatter died instantly.

Silence fell like a guillotine.

A man stepped onto the landing.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, and radiated a power so dense it felt like gravity had shifted. He wore a charcoal suit that strained against thick muscles, but it was his face that stopped my heart.

Sharp jawline. heavy brow. Storm-gray eyes that swept over the room with the indifference of a predator surveying a herd of sheep.

My breath hitched, lodging painfully in my throat.

It's him.

The realization hit me with the force of a physical blow. The scent washed over me instantly—sandalwood, ozone, and the dark, electric charge of a gathering storm. It was the same scent that had clung to my skin for days. The same scent I had tried to scrub away in the shower.

My wolf woke from her slumber, pacing frantically in my mind. Mate, she purred, a low, vibrating hum that rattled my bones. Mine.

I had slept with the Alpha King. I had slept with my husband's brother.

Panic, cold and absolute, flooded my veins. I wanted to run, to vomit, to hide, but my feet were rooted to the Persian rug.

Carter descended the stairs, his movements fluid and predatory. The crowd parted for him like the Red Sea. He stopped in front of us, towering over Jaden.

Brother, Jaden squeaked, his voice cracking. He bowed his head, exposing his neck in submission. "Welcome back. The West Coast expansion is—"

The West Coast expansion is a disaster, Carter interrupted. His voice was a deep baritone that vibrated through the floorboards. He didn't even look at Jaden; his eyes were locked on me. "You handled the negotiations like a pup begging for scraps. I'll be cleaning up your mess for months."

Jaden flushed a deep, ugly crimson. "I... the territory was contested, Carter. I did my best."

Your best is mediocre, Jaden. It always has been.

Carter's gaze finally shifted fully to me. Up close, he was terrifying. The memory of his hands on my body, his lips on my neck, flashed through my mind, making my knees weak. But his eyes held no warmth now. They were cold, calculating shards of ice.

And this, Jaden said hurriedly, desperate to shift the attention. He grabbed my hand and pulled me forward, displaying me like a prize poodle. "This is Delilah. My wife."

I forced my trembling hand to extend toward the most powerful wolf on the continent. "It is an honor, Alpha Mcclain."

Carter looked at my hand. He didn't take it.

He let the silence stretch, thick and agonizing, until people nearby started to shift uncomfortably. His lip curled slightly, a microscopic expression of disgust.

I don't touch unclean things, he said smoothly.

The insult was a slap in the face. Gasps rippled through the onlookers. I snatched my hand back as if burned, my face burning with humiliation.

He... he has sensory overload, Jaden stammered, laughing nervously to cover the slight. "The bloodline power... it makes touch difficult for him. Isn't that right, Carter?"

Carter ignored him. He took a step closer to me, invading my personal space. The heat radiating from his body was intoxicating, warring with the terror freezing my blood. He was so close I could see the flecks of silver in his irises.

He leaned down, his mouth brushing the shell of my ear. To the room, it looked like a polite greeting.

Then, his hand came up. His rough thumb grazed my left earlobe—the naked one. The one missing the diamond stud.

A jolt of electricity shot down my spine at the contact, making me gasp softly.

You owe me three hundred dollars, little wolf, he whispered, his voice a low growl that only I could hear.

He pulled back, a dark, cruel smirk playing on his lips. He winked—a gesture that was not playful, but predatory—and turned his back on us, walking away into the crowd.

I stood frozen, the ghost of his touch burning on my ear, realizing with dawning horror that the monster I had married was nothing compared to the beast I had just unleashed.