Colette POV:
The man's voice was heavy, strained with a clear suppression of agony.
The moment he leaned in, an overwhelming stench of metallic blood engulfed me.
The large hand clamped over my mouth and nose was slick with fresh blood.
My doctor's instinct kicked in.
Sensing he was severely wounded, my initial thrashing immediately ceased.
Hearing chaotic footsteps outside, the man turned to lock the stall door, only to find the latch was completely broken.
He cursed under his breath.
"Where the fuck did he go?" a rough voice barked from the hallway.
"Shit, you think he ducked into the restrooms?" another replied.
"You guard the exit. I'll check the women's restroom! When I find him, I'm breaking his legs with this silver-laced baton. Let's see him run then!"
The man leaned heavily against the tiled wall.
Even in the dim light, I could see his face was deathly pale, the entire left sleeve of his dark dress shirt soaked in blood.
My eyes fell on his face.
There was something strikingly familiar about those cold, piercing blue eyes.
It was as if... I had seen them somewhere before.
Heavy boots stomped into the women's restroom.
The chaser was kicking the stall doors open one by one.
I didn't know what possessed me—maybe it was the adrenaline, or the reckless courage born from having my heart shattered tonight—but I grabbed the man's leather belt and threw his exact warning back at him in a fierce whisper.
"Keep quiet and cooperate if you want to live."
Treating him like a patient who needed immediate emergency intervention, I swiftly unbuckled his belt, yanked his expensive tailored trousers down, and kicked them toward the gap under the stall door.
Then, I ripped open the buttons of his blood-soaked shirt.
Listening to the chaser checking the stalls closer and closer, I grabbed the bottle of highly concentrated medical rubbing alcohol from my bag—a habit I kept for emergencies—and sprayed it everywhere, overpowering the metallic tang of blood.
At the same time, a surge of adrenaline spiked my own sweet Omega scent, mixing with the alcohol to create a heavy, intoxicating illusion of a couple in the middle of a heated mating frenzy.
Just as the door to our stall was yanked open, I made a split-second decision.
I pulled my T-shirt over my head, tossing it aside, leaving me in only my lacy bra.
Without hesitation, I cupped the stranger's face and smashed my lips against his.
The man stiffened for a fraction of a second.
But then, an instinctual, primal reaction took over.
His large hand gripped my bare waist, pulling me flush against his hard, burning chest.
A strange, electric jolt sparked the moment our lips met, sending a shiver straight to my core.
He turned my desperate cover-up into a deep, dominating kiss that left me breathless.
I tore my lips away just enough to snap my head toward the intruder, screaming with feigned rage, "What the hell are you looking at? Go watch your own mate!"
Male shifters were predictable creatures driven by their primal urges.
Seeing my bare, pale back and the man's trousers discarded on the floor, the rogue's aggressive posture instantly relaxed into a sleazy smirk.
He even let out a low whistle.
"Got a couple of wild ones having a quickie in the stall," the rogue yelled back to his partner at the door, chuckling. "You wanna come watch?"
That single scream had drained every ounce of courage I had.
I bit my lower lip hard, my hands tightly gripping the stranger's bloody shirt, not even daring to breathe.
"You idiot! Stop watching a live show and keep looking!" the voice from the hallway snapped.
The heavy boots finally retreated, and the restroom door swung shut.
It wasn't until the room fell into complete, dead silence that I let out a long, shaky exhale.
I turned to face the wall and quickly pulled my T-shirt back on.
Behind me, the man calmly bent down, pulled up his trousers, and fastened his belt.
He adjusted his collar, preparing to leave...
I grabbed his arm, pulling him back, and pointed at the closed toilet lid. "Sit."
I completely ignored the flash of surprise in his piercing blue eyes.
Bending down to dig through my bag, I said in my stern, clinical voice, "If I were someone with a severed artery, I'd listen to the doctor."
He glanced at the medical supplies in my hand, then at the lingering scent of alcohol I had sprayed.
A faint, amused smirk ghosted over his lips, and he actually sat down.
I noticed the edges of the wound on his arm were blackened and sizzling faintly.
Silver and wolfsbane.
No wonder a powerful Alpha like him couldn't heal.
I took a silk scarf from my bag, tied it above the wound, and then used a pen to twist it into a makeshift tourniquet.
"If you can't get to a pack healer immediately, remember to loosen this every forty minutes for about five minutes to let the blood flow, then tighten it again," I instructed, expertly securing the pen.
When I finally finished and stepped back, I realized he hadn't buttoned his shirt yet.
In the dim, flickering light, his abdominal muscles were sharply defined, his broad, hard chest rising and falling rhythmically with his heavy breathing.
But what caught my eye was a savage, jagged scar on his shoulder that extended all the way down his back.
It was an old wound, fully healed, but it would never fade.
A mark of countless life-and-death battles.
Besides that, there were several lighter scars crisscrossing his torso.
Before I could pull my gaze away, the man stood up.
He casually pulled his ruined shirt together, using his blood-stained fingers to selectively fasten just two buttons, leaving his chest dangerously exposed.
Then, he reached out and grabbed my hand just as I was about to pick up my bag.
"What are you doing?" I gasped, looking up into his dark, fathomless eyes.
My palm felt heavy.
A small, cold metal object was pressed into my hand.
The man's thumb, rough with calluses, gently folded my fingers over it.
The overwhelming aura of a supreme predator washed over me as he leaned in, his voice a low, gravelly purr that sent shivers down my spine.
"Dr. Colette... until we meet again."
Then, he turned, opened the stall door, and walked out into the shadows with the grace of a lethal king.
Colette POV:
I stared at the heavy platinum cufflink in my palm, my heart suddenly skipping a beat.
Wait.
He had just called me "Dr. Colette."
He knew my name!
He knew who I was!
I clutched my bag and sprinted out of the restroom, but the dimly lit hallway was completely empty.
The only proof that the dangerous stranger had been there was the lingering scent of metallic blood and cold cedar in the air.
Taking a deep breath, I walked out of the club and immediately dialed my best friend, Brooke.
Then, I hailed a cab straight back to Colten's villa.
I had to pack my things before that bastard returned.
The massive villa was filled with expensive designer goods.
The walk-in closet on the second floor was stuffed with luxurious dresses and custom heels.
But those were all Colten's props.
The things that truly belonged to me were pitifully few.
A few pairs of worn-out scrubs, some basic skincare products, and my heavy stacks of medical textbooks.
It took me less than an hour to pack up my entire four-year relationship into one battered suitcase and a cardboard box.
I left the designer clothes untouched and restored the bedroom to its immaculate state, erasing any trace of my scent and existence.
By the time I dragged my belongings to the front gates of the villa, Brooke had just pulled up in her car.
She stepped out, staring at the heavy box of medical books in shock.
"Are you... planning to give Colten the silent treatment for half a year?"
"No," I said calmly, loading the books into her trunk. "I broke up with him. For good."
Brooke knew me well.
I had never once uttered the words "break up" in the past four years.
Seeing the absolute deadness in my eyes, she knew I was serious.
"Good riddance!" She helped me lift the suitcase. "I fully support you!"
Colten POV:
The next morning, I was jolted awake by my blaring alarm.
My head pounded from a massive hangover.
I rubbed my temples and walked straight into the walk-in closet.
Instantly, my eyes fell on the two perfectly matched suits hanging at the front, carefully selected for my meetings today.
Colette had prepared them.
I never had to worry about the trivial details of my life.
For years, Colette had meticulously coordinated my outfits based on my schedule.
To me, regardless of how many other she-wolves I played around with, Colette was the perfect, obedient choice for a mate.
Her Omega wolf was weak and submissive.
She was bluffing, I thought with a smirk.
She threw a tantrum about breaking up last night, but she still crawled back to lay out my clothes.
Feeling smug, I changed and walked downstairs.
"Alpha Colten, breakfast is ready," Eleanor, the head housekeeper, said as she stepped out of the kitchen.
I frowned, looking around. "Where is Colette?"
"She sent me a message past midnight, asking me to prepare your meals from now on," Eleanor hesitated, her voice dropping. "She moved out last night, Alpha. She said she won't be returning."
My arrogant expression instantly darkened. "Moved out? Did she take the jewelry and dresses I bought her?"
"No, sir. Just one old suitcase and her books."
A brief silence fell over the dining room.
Then, a cold, mocking sneer escaped my lips.
She really thinks this little stunt will make me beg?
I raised my arm, glancing at my expensive watch.
It was 8:30 AM.
"I'll give her until eight o'clock tonight," I commanded, my voice dripping with contempt. "If she doesn't come crawling back to beg for my forgiveness by eight o'clock, clear out her remaining scent. Let Hanna move in permanently. It's time this villa had a new mistress anyway. I don't have the patience to play these childish games with a mere servant's daughter."
