First pair: a starlet and Rose.
Victor doesn't blink: "Rose."
Cheers erupt as Rose blushes.
My digits dig into palms as photo after photo flashes-each time, he picks Rose.
I flee to the closet, but wild cheers follow.
My photo appears beside Rose's on the tablet.
" This is interesting! Miss Stone's the circle's beauty-if he still picks Rose. "
All eyes fix on Victor.
He's uncharacteristically silent.
Three heartbeats pass.
"Rose," he says low.
My world collapses.
As whoops deafen the hall, I stagger to the sink, splashing cold water-useless against the fire in my veins.
In the dim corridor, drunkards block my path.
"Add me, beauty," one slurs, reaching.
"Back off!"
I reel, hitting the wall.
Another grabs my wrist: "Dressed like this for play, no?"
A snarl rips the air-Victor lunges, twisting the man's wrist.
He hauls me to his car, trunk in tow.
"Unhand me!" I thrash.
He pins my wrist: "More antics?"
His tone jars a memory: when I fled Sire's home, he'd hunt me down, carry me back. "More tantrums?" he'd ask, my face buried in his snow pine scent.
Foolish me, thinking he cared.
I bite his hand.
He frowns, starts the car.
At his home, he dumps my trunk: "Stay till you seek your shelter."
I stand at the threshold: "Half a month. I'll pay rent, no more disturbance."
"No disturbance?"
His gaze pierces through gold rims.
"Can you promise that?"
The words slice deep.
He's seen my fall-from defiance to dependency.
While he guards his sweetheart, watching me drown.
"Rose is my step-dam's whelp," I blurt.
He pauses: "Learned that today."
"Your bond to her?"
"Schoolmate. She saved me in a crash, heals abroad." His eyes warn: "Your quarrel is with your step-dam, not Rose."
I retreat, slamming the door as tears fall.
I lie in a blood pool, vision fading, yet see Victor Voss cradle Rose Wyndham-guarding her like treasure.
memories flash:
First meet, his eyes cold as ice behind gold rims;
Me pouring salt in his coffee, him drinking it stone-faced;
Our first clash on his desk, my teeth in his shoulder;
His birthday, my room decked in roses-only to find him with Rose;
Walking five miles to my mother's shrine, blistered heels, his silent back carrying me home.
.
The monitor's beep jolts me. Next bed, Rose weeps:
"My fault, quarreling on the road. I just wanted to drive her home. Victor, why save me first? She'll rage!"
He wipes her tears: "No blame. I'd choose you again. Your health is frail. She has no reason to anger."
His softness-unknown to me-slices my core.
What am I to him?
When Rose leaves, Victor turns, finding me awake.
"Superficial wounds. Called the best healers-no scars."
I nod: "Understood. fees repaid in half a moon."
He frowns at "half a moon," but leaves me to silence.
Days pass.
Victor stays, but I no longer cling.
Silent during treatments, meals, sleeps-emptying his world.
At a injection, he breaks: "Still angry?"
"At what?" I watch him adjust the drip.
"For saving Rose first. We-"
A corridor commotion cuts him off.
A nurse whispers: "Step-daughter of Stone Group's sire fell-rushed to emergency."
Victor's face shifts: "Pack calls. Return soon." He leaves, my heart icing.
Seven hours later, a nurse gasps: "Your drip backflowed! Near disaster!"
My hand is swollen. No visit from him.
"Where's your hunk?" a nurse teases.
"Not my mate," I say, limping out.
Corridor whispers pierce:
"Step-sire dotes-private healer, VIP den."
"Wealth can't buy love."
Through a cracked door: Victor adjusts Rose's drip; my sire feeds her apples.
tears fall, but I wipe them: "No tears. No one cares."
My steps steady, rapid.
