Riley's POV

I pushed the door open slowly, my hand trembling around the handle. For a second, I thought my mind was playing tricks on me. Maybe I was hallucinating from exhaustion and heartbreak.

But no.

The moment the door widened enough for me to see inside, reality slammed into me with brutal clarity.

Ethan-my husband-was inside. Inside Wendy. On his desk.

Her body was arched over, her blouse pushed to her shoulders, skirt bunched around her hips. His hands were gripping her waist, pulling her back into him, driving into her like he had no shame, no hesitation, no fear of being caught. Like he had done this a hundred times before.

Her moans were loud, echoing off the office walls, breathy and unrestrained. She wasn't even pretending to be quiet. She wasn't afraid of anyone hearing. She wasn't afraid of anyone walking in.

And why would she be?

No one walks into the Alpha's office without knocking.

No one except me.

They noticed me at once. Wendy's head snapped toward me so fast her hair whipped across her cheek. Her face drained of color, lips still parted around a moan that died in her throat.

Ethan didn't freeze, but he didn't pull away. He didn't even bother to reach for his pants.

He just turned his head lazily toward me, still buried inside her, and stared like I'd interrupted him on something important.

His expression, instead of guilt, was filled with pure irritation, like I were an inconvenience.

My heart stopped. My mind blanked, and my vision tunneled.

For a moment, all I could hear was my own heartbeat slamming against my ribs.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

I opened my mouth, but the words fought against the grief strangling my throat.

"Our son..." I whispered, barely audible. "He died today, Ethan."

Tears instantly filled my eyes, spilling over my cheeks in silent, panicked streams as Wendy's hands scrambled to pull her blouse together, covering herself with trembling fingers.

Ethan finally, slowly, slipped out of her and pulled up his pants like he had all the time in the world. Like I was standing there asking him what he wanted for lunch. He moved with the same sluggish confidence he always had when he knew he was untouchable-the way most Alphas did.

I swallowed hard, but it felt like glass in my throat. "And you're here," I continued, my voice barely holding together, "With Wendy? Your own stepsister?"

Wendy shook her head, stumbling away from the desk. "Riley-Riley, I'm so- I didn't- I swear I thought-"

Her words tangled, collapsing over each other, but I couldn't look at her yet. I couldn't look at the woman who stood by the hospital bed just last night and only left very early this morning. The woman who held me when they took my baby into surgery. The woman who hugged me each time my baby was having one sickness or another.

She was family.

My best friend.

My confidant.

The person I trusted with everything I had left.

The betrayal cut deeper than any knife ever could. But then Ethan scoffed, and my attention snapped back to him.

"You think I care about your dead kid, Riley?" he said, irritation slicing through every syllable.

He continued, stepping closer as if I were the problem.

"That's all you've been for months-a walking tragedy. I'm tired of it. Tired of your crying. Tired of the hospitals. Tired of pretending I give a damn. You're too boring, Riley!"

Wendy gasped, covering her mouth, horrified.

But he wasn't done.

"You wanted sympathy? You wanted me to fall apart with you because of a child you managed to have but couldn't even take care of? Sorry." He shrugged. "I've got better things to do."

The coldness in his voice seeped into my bones like ice water. It froze whatever warmth I had left. I stood there, staring at him, barely breathing, every cell in my body trembling from shock and rage and devastation.

"You..." I choked on my words. "You're disgusting," I whispered.

He smirked-the same arrogant Alpha smirk he used when belittling employees or dismissing problems he didn't want to deal with. "You know you always hated how I was lazy, how I didn't act like your fantasy perfect husband. Well, guess what? I'm done pretending."

My nails dug so deeply into my palms that I felt something wet. I didn't know if it was blood or sweat or both.

"Because that's what you are, Ethan," I said, voice breaking with each word. "I held everything together. Everything. Our child. Our business. Our home. While you-"

"While I what?" he cut in sharply. "Did nothing? Yeah. That's right. And you yet stayed. So what does that say about you?"

I took a shaky breath.

He wasn't finished.

"And honestly..." He leaned against the desk, folding his arms, eyes cruel. "You were always the pathetic one, Riley. Everyone knew it. Everyone felt sorry for me because of it. Maybe that's why he died. Maybe the kid just wasn't meant to survive with you."

The world tilted in my head at once. The air was sucked from my lungs. My knees nearly buckled. A sound escaped me-something raw, wounded, inhuman. Something I had never heard myself make before.

"Ethan..." Wendy whispered, horrified. "Stop. Stop it-"

But he didn't care.

He didn't care about my shattered chest or the milk stains still on my dress from the last time I held my baby. He didn't care that he had just used the death of our child-a child he barely acknowledged-to hurt me deeper than any man ever should.

Something snapped inside me at once, my hands moved before I could think, and I gave him a heavy slap!

The slap echoed across the room like thunder. A sharp, vicious crack.

His head whipped to the side from pure, unfiltered shock.

"Are you crazy?" he snapped, touching his cheek.

"No, Ethan," I said, stepping closer, my voice steady for the first time since I walked in. "I'm done being crazy this time."

He scoffed. Like I'd crumble again, the way I always did to keep peace, to keep the marriage functioning, to keep appearances.

Wendy's voice trembled. "Riley, I'm sorry... I didn't mean to... I thought you and he-he said you two weren't-"

I held up my hand sharply, and she stopped talking instantly.

"You were supposed to be my friend," I said quietly. "You were supposed to stand by me-but you've shown me you are nothing," I said.

I turned back to Ethan. "You think you've won, right?" I choked.

But he rolled his eyes. "Are you done? We have investors waiting. You can scream later."

The audacity. I clenched my fists, trying to stop my shaking hands. My grief didn't disappear, but it rearranged itself-solidifying into something resolute.

I stared straight into his eyes and spoke calmly, clearly, deliberately.

"You've always wanted an open marriage, right, Ethan?"

He blinked, confused by the sudden shift.

"Well," I continued, "you can have it now."

The silence that followed was suffocating. Wendy gasped softly. Ethan straightened, his eyebrows lifting, but I didn't break eye contact.

The words tasted like victory. Bitter, cold victory-but victory nonetheless.

Ethan opened his mouth, ready to argue, ready to mock me, ready to say something cruel, but I didn't give him the chance.

"For the first time since I married you," I said, walking past him toward the door, "you're going to see exactly what you pushed me into."

I reached the handle, pulled the door open, and looked back one last time.

"You don't get to hurt me anymore, Ethan."

Riley's POV

I don't even remember storming out of the building.

One moment, I was staring at Ethan like I didn't know him, as I'd never known him.

Next, my feet were carrying me through the lobby, past the glass doors, out into the cold outside, without a single glance at anyone. I didn't care if the important investors were waiting. I didn't care what rumors would spread.

Let them talk.

Let them say "Riley Grayson lost her mind." They'd be right.

I got into my car, slammed the door shut, and drove. I didn't check where. I didn't plan. I just kept my foot on the gas and my hand clenched around the wheel, my vision swimming with the weight of betrayal.

My baby...

My beautiful boy.

Gone.

And Ethan... God. Ethan did this?

"You're boring, Riley."

Those words wouldn't stop ringing in my head. The same man who took my virginity. I married at twenty when I thought love was enough to build a future on. I gave him three years. Three years of my youth, my body, my time, my soul, and now he stood in a glass office, buried in my best friend, telling me I was boring.

I blinked to wipe my tears, to see it clearly with my destination. It's the clubhouse. Downtown in Crescent Hollow.

It was not just any club, though. Not the type you can walk into unless you have a reason. This place wasn't built for humans like me. It was owned, run, and ruled by shifters, mostly werewolves of high rank like the Betas and Gammas. Pack Dangerous elites. Powerful and untouchable.

Let them throw me out. Let them tear me apart if they want. I needed air. I needed noise. I needed to forget.

I pulled the car into a side lot, got out, slammed the door behind me, and walked straight for the entrance with no hesitation. My black dress clung to me, wrinkled from hours of wear, tear-stained at the collar, but I held my head high as I stepped inside.

The scent of thick musk hit me first, mixed with sweat, leather, alcohol, and forbidden. The thrum of music pounded through my bones. The place was alive with movement. Dancers grinding against each other.

The low-ranking wolves-omegas in seductive forms with flashing smiles as they laughed, flirted, fought. No one noticed me at first. Maybe no one expected a human to walk in alone.

Definitely not a grieving one.

I made a beeline walk towards the bar.

The bartender, a tall shifter with silver rings in both ears and tattoos crawling up his neck, blinked at me like I was a hallucination.

"Tequila," I said.

He raised a brow but said nothing and poured a shot for me. I downed it in one go. He blinked in confusion and poured another. I downed. Third, Fourth. Fifth.

Ethan's voice was still echoing in my skull like a curse I couldn't shake.

After everything... after every night I held that man's business together... after every moment I managed to take care of our boy while he "couldn't be bothered."

Seven shots in, I slammed the empty glass on the counter and opened my mouth to ask for another, but the bartender hesitated.

"I'm sorry, miss," he said, glancing at me with narrowed eyes. "I can't give you more. You're wasted."

"What?" I frowned. "Are you the one who's going to tell me how much I want to drink? Do you even know how I'm feeling right now?"

I wasn't yelling. But my voice was loud, thanks to the music pounding through the club. The lights felt like they were spinning. My pulse buzzed in my ears.

"Pour me another."

"I'm serious," he said. "I'll get in trouble if I give you one more. I won't leave this place in one piece."

I snorted bitterly. "Says who?"

His eyes darted past me over my shoulder. "Says them."

I turned slowly, and my eyes landed on them.

Three men.

Three impossibly large, devastatingly handsome men were sitting at the far corner of the club in a booth no one else dared to come near. I hadn't noticed them when I came in - how could I have missed them? It was like the aura shifted around them. Like the room moved differently in their presence.

Their eyes were on me now. Watching intently. All three of them.

One with a jaw carved from stone and hair pulled into a loose knot at his nape.

Another leaned back lazily, fingers tapping against his glass, his eyes molten gold even from this distance.

The third seemed darker - danger seemed to curl around him like smoke, his unreadable expression fixed right on me.

They looked familiar somehow. Too familiar.

I squinted, rubbing my eyes. The tequila had definitely caught up to me, but something told me I'd seen them before. Somewhere. Somehow.

They were still staring, and all of a sudden, heat prickled hot across my skin.

What the hell did they want? Why were they looking at me like that? And what kind of sick twisted joke is that I have to listen to them?

Do they own this club or what? I slammed my palms on the counter, making the bar guy jerk in shock as I straightened up, wobbling slightly on my feet.

"They'll have to tell me who they're to tell me not to have more drinks," I said as I clenched my palms and walked up to them.

Riley's POV

I stormed up to their table, my heart thumping fiercely-not just from the tequila, but because something about them unsettled me. Their eyes locked onto me, unblinking. I felt the heat of their gazes press against my skin, thick and heavy like the humid air.

"Hey!" I snapped, forcing my voice steady despite the nervous flutter in my chest. "Why did you tell that man I can't have more drinks? Do you own this place or what?"

The tallest one-the first-lifted his glass, swirling the dark red wine inside like it was some kind of poison. His dark grey eyes caught the dim club lights and flickered with a lazy, unsettling smirk.

"We do," he said, voice low and smooth.

I blinked, momentarily frozen by the confidence in his tone. Still, I forced the words out. "Well, just because you own the place doesn't mean you can control how many shots someone has."

He raised an eyebrow, amused. "Apparently, we can, Riley Grayson."

That made me stop cold.

The second man spoke next, his voice a bit softer but just as commanding."We decide who drinks and who doesn't, Riley."

His eyes were the color of oceanic amber, like molten gold flecked with the deepest blue. They seemed to look right through me, as if they could see every secret I tried to hide. He was handsome, sure, but more than that-he carried an aura of confidence that drew attention without trying.

"How?" I stammered, fighting the mix of surprise and fear twisting in my stomach. "How do you know my name? Have we met before?"

Before they could answer, the third man's voice cut through the haze.

"You're not supposed to be here," he said sharply. His eyes were cold-silver, almost, and his expression was deadly serious. Something was frightening about his calm, like a wolf waiting patiently for the right moment to strike. His handsome features were precise, but his gaze held a weight that made the air between us suffocating.

He raised an eyebrow, his voice icy. "Does Ethan know his human wife is wasted in a downtown clubhouse?"

I froze. My mouth is dry, mind racing. "How do you know Ethan?" I asked, desperate for answers.

The dark-eyed man, the one with the smirk, leaned forward, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"We know a lot of things, pretty," he said with a slow grin. "And we also know about your now open marriage."

My breath caught, and my mouth fell open in shock. For a moment, I was speechless. The words stung-not because of what they meant, but because it was clear these men knew things no stranger should.

"Who the hell are you people?" I almost staggered back, my voice sharp with shock and suspicion.

They just smirked, settling back into their seats like they were enjoying some private joke I wasn't in on.

The second one, the one with those oceanic amber eyes, leaned forward, eyes locking onto mine like he could see every fracture in my soul. "Don't you know who we are?"

I hesitated. He let out a low chuckle, slow and dark. "Maybe that's because we've been away for a while, pretty. Out of town for three years. But we're back now."

Before I could react, the first man, the dark grey-eyed one with that lazy, dangerous grin, stood up smoothly, towering over me. I took an involuntary step back, the heat radiating from his body making it hard to breathe.

"Since you want an open marriage," he said, voice low and teasing, "we thought we'd make you an offer, Riley." His grin widened, sharp and wicked. "You want to get back at your husband, don't you? To prove you're not the boring woman he made you out to be?"

I found myself nodding, more out of shock than agreement.

"Good," he said, stepping closer, eyes never leaving mine. "Then let us join your open marriage."

I blinked again, the words hanging heavy in the smoky air.

"As you can see, there are three of us," he continued, a slow smirk playing on his lips. "And we can give you everything you've been craving for the past three years with Ethan."

His gaze was intense, daring me to respond.

"But," he added, voice dropping to a teasing whisper, "there's one thing you should know-we like to be... together."

The amber-eyed man nodded, his eyes gleaming. "One woman. Three men. At the same time."

My heart hammered, a mix of fear, anger, and something dangerously thrilling coursing through me.

I wanted to back away, to refuse, but something about the way they looked at me made it impossible. Not just desire but a challenge.

"Why me?" I managed to ask, not liking the images that were being painted in my head, nor the way my body was already reacting to those images.

The first man shrugged, that wicked grin still in place. "Because you're tired of being pushed around. Because you want to prove that you can still hold it in without him. And because... well, we like a woman who's wrecked and ready to be used to get what she wants ."

The silence stretched, thick with possibility.

I swallowed hard, my voice barely steady. "And what if I say yes?"

They exchanged glances, their smiles widening a bit in surprise. They might think I would have turned it down, but no, a wicked thought already crossed through my mind, mixed with the heavy alcohol that was swimming in my head at the moment.

"Then," the grey-eyed one said, "this night just got a whole lot more interesting," he said, his voice low and full of promise. "And once we start, we don't stop."