Joel POV:
I watched her run, a frantic deer startled by the hunter. The sight of her fleeing form, the white of her ruined dress a beacon in the sterile hallway, sent a savage thrill through me. My inner wolf paced the confines of my mind, growling with satisfaction. Mine.
Dyllan entered the room, his face a mask of professional concern. "Alpha, are you alright? The scene has been secured. We've planted evidence to suggest a failed assassination attempt by a rival pack. No one will trace it back to us."
"Good," I said, my voice flat. I walked over to the window, watching as her small car sped out of the hospital parking lot and disappeared into the pre-dawn gloom.
I reached up and tore the bandage from my forehead. The stitches pulled, a minor sting. Beneath the gauze, the skin was already knitting itself back together, the gash closing with the rapid healing of my Lycan bloodline. By morning, there would be nothing left but a faint red line.
"Was it worth it, Alpha?" Dyllan asked, his loyalty warring with his confusion. "Staging your own crash, risking injury..."
"It was worth it," I cut him off, my eyes still fixed on the road where she had vanished. I turned from the window and poured myself a glass of whiskey from the decanter on the room's side table. The amber liquid burned on its way down, a welcome fire.
"I needed to get close to her," I said, more to myself than to him. "This was the only way to do it without raising suspicion. To make her come to me."
For ten years, I had watched her from afar. Ten years since that day in Cedar Creek when I first saw her, first recognized her as the other half of my soul. But she was wolfless, unable to feel the bond, and I was a monster, my own wolf a raging beast I could barely control. So I had waited, building my empire, consolidating my power, until I was strong enough to claim her.
Clemont, my foolish, greedy nephew, had provided the perfect opportunity. His engagement to her was an insult, a sacrilege. But it was also the opening I needed.
"She's mine, Dyllan," I said, the words a low growl. "She just doesn't know it yet."
Dyllan is holding a tablet displaying the security layout for the church. "Alpha, shall we intervene at the wedding?"
I held up a hand, a faint, cruel smile playing on my lips. "No."
I took a sip of my whiskey. "Let the little omega have her fun. Let her draw first blood. I'll be there to handle the cleanup."
Annemarie POV:
I drove on autopilot, my mind a chaotic storm of images and emotions. Joel Hunter's face, his voice, his touch-they were burned into my memory. I finally made it back to my small apartment in the city center, the one place that was supposed to be my sanctuary.
I stumbled inside, kicking off my ruined shoes and collapsing onto the sofa. The silence of the apartment was deafening. My head throbbed, the faces of Clemont and Kaylen swimming before my eyes, their laughter mingling with the terrifying intensity of Joel Hunter's gaze.
I had to wash it all away.
I dragged myself into the bathroom and stood under the scalding spray of the shower, letting the hot water sluice the mud, blood, and grime from my body. I scrubbed my skin until it was raw, but I couldn't wash away the feeling of his fingers on my wrist, his thumb on my cheek.
I stared at my reflection in the steamed-up mirror. My face was pale, my eyes wide and haunted. But as I looked deeper, I saw something else flicker to life in their depths. A spark of defiance. A cold, hard resolve.
They thought they could destroy me, leave me with nothing. They were wrong. I thought of my mother, lying in a coma in a long-term care facility, the reason I had agreed to this sham of a marriage in the first place.
Frost Legacy Holdings represents centuries of hard work by my mother’s family. If my mother hadn’t chosen to marry my father, he wouldn’t have the good life he has now. Yet now, my mother lies sick in bed, suffering from illness, while my father, along with his mistress and illegitimate daughter, along with my disgusting fiancé, wants to take all of this away from her.
I had to protect my mother's property.
My phone, which I'd left on the bathroom counter, lit up. Another message from the unknown number.
My hand trembled as I picked it up. It wasn't text this time. It was an encrypted link. My heart pounded as I clicked on it.
It took me to a secure server. There, laid out in neat digital files, was irrefutable proof. Scanned documents, bank transfers, offshore account numbers. Clemont had been systematically embezzling from the Frost Legacy Holdings trust fund for months, funneling money into accounts controlled by his father.
The sheer scale of the theft stole my breath. Millions. He was trying to bleed the company dry before he even had control of it.
A wave of pure, unadulterated fury washed over me. Any lingering thought of retreat, of quietly disappearing, vanished. I smashed my fist against the marble countertop, the pain a distant echo to the rage consuming me.
I would not run. I would fight. I would burn their world to the ground.
I wrapped a towel around myself and went to my study. I downloaded every file, creating multiple backups. I saved them to a thumb drive, and then, for good measure, I emailed encrypted copies to three separate offshore email accounts I had set up years ago for emergencies.
Then I walked to my closet. In the very back, shrouded in a protective garment bag, was another wedding dress. Not the one I was supposed to wear today, but the one my mother had designed for me before she got sick. It was a masterpiece of lace and silk, a symbol of a love I now knew was a lie.
I unzipped the bag and ran my hand over the delicate fabric. I remembered my mother's words, her voice weak but her eyes fierce. "Be strong, my Annemarie. The Frost women are not victims. We are survivors."
A new strength flowed through me. I was a survivor. And I was going to make them pay.
Clemont POV ：
In my own penthouse suite, I threw my phone against the wall, where it shattered into a dozen pieces. I'd been calling Annemarie all night, my messages growing increasingly frantic.But she still didn’t respond at all.
Kaylen wrapped her arms around my from behind, pressing her body against mine. "Don't worry about her, darling," she cooed. "She's probably just having some last-minute bridal jitters. She'll show up. She has to."
I allowed myself to be soothed, my greed overriding my unease. I turned and kissed her, the image of Annemarie’s face already fading from my mind, replaced by dollar signs.
Across the city, I stood on the balcony of my own penthouse, the night wind whipping at my shirt. For the first time in a long time, the beast inside I was quiet, sated by the proximity to its mate.
Annemarie POV:
The next morning, I sat before my vanity mirror as a makeup artist I trusted worked her magic. I was a blank canvas, my face betraying none of the turmoil within. When she was finished, I was flawless, a perfect porcelain doll. A bride ready for her sacrifice.
Just as I was about to put on my mother's dress, the doorbell rang. A courier delivered a small, unmarked black box. Puzzled, I signed for it and opened it.
Inside, nestled on a bed of black velvet, was a silver brooch in the shape of a snarling wolf's head. Its eyes were tiny, glittering rubies. Beneath it was a small, crisp card with two words elegantly calligraphed on it.
Checkmate.
I didn't know who it was from, but I felt a strange sense of reassurance. I wasn't entirely alone in this fight. I pinned the silver wolf to the ribbons of my bouquet.
The sound of car horns from the street below announced the arrival of the wedding limousine. It was time.
I took a deep breath, the air filling my lungs with a cold resolve. I picked up my beautiful, tragic dress and walked out the door to meet my destiny.
As I settled into the plush leather seat of the limo, watching the city streets blur past my window, a slow, cold smile spread across my face.
Let the games begin.
