Lianne's POV:
There was no way I could finish my shift.
I could not get the necklace on Ivy's neck out of my head. Its harsh glow stayed in my thoughts and would not disappear.
I quickly came up with an excuse, then left Voss Group without looking back.
I headed straight to Moon Bar, the most crowded club in the city.
I just wanted to let everything out and numb those damn feelings with alcohol.
As soon as I stepped inside, loud music filled the space and matched the rapid beat of my heart. The air felt heavy, mixed with cheap perfume, cigarette smoke, and the raw tension from male werewolves.
I took a seat at the bar.
"Miss, drinking alone tonight? Want to try our best-selling tequila?" The bartender moved with ease as he shook the mixer, and his gaze stayed on my bare collarbone.
"Just give me the whole bottle," I said with a faint smirk, my voice rough.
For three years, I stayed away from alcohol and followed a strict routine. I did it to maintain the image of a Luna, to satisfy Ethan's picky demands, and to handle the complicated matters of the Thorn Pack.
But in the end, what did I even get?
Nothing at all.
A hint of surprise crossed the bartender's face, yet he still placed several shot glasses in front of me and filled each one with tequila.
I grabbed one and swallowed it in a single motion.
The alcohol burned down my throat and made me cough hard.
I reached for the next glass, then another. I kept drinking faster each time, as if I was taking it out on myself.
Soon, everything in front of me turned hazy, and the noise around me began to fade.
My hands shook as I pulled out the wrinkled ultrasound report from my bag.
"Congratulations, you're pregnant." The doctor's voice repeated in my head, overlapping with Ethan's cold words. "Even if there were a child, I wouldn't allow it to be born."
My eyes stayed on the faint shape on the paper, the tiny sign of life, and a bitter feeling settled deep inside me.
The child I looked forward to meant nothing to Ethan. In his eyes, it was only something unwanted.
A quiet laugh slipped out of me while tears kept falling.
The report crumpled in my grip before I shoved it back into my bag, then I lifted the bottle and drank again.
"Drinking here all by yourself? Feeling lonely?"
Someone spoke right beside my ear, his tone careless.
When I looked over, a young man stood there, probably in his early twenties.
His blond hair was flashy, and his eyes carried that familiar greedy look of a werewolf.
He moved in closer, and the way he looked at me turned intense. "Your scent is driving me crazy."
Female hormone changes never escaped a werewolf's senses.
Because of the pregnancy, my scent had become more tempting.
"Stay away from me." I swung my purse straight at his face, but he caught it with ease and tossed it aside.
Closing the distance, he pulled me into his arms. His grip tightened, and his other hand slid up along my waist toward my chest.
"Relax a little. Spend some time with me, and I promise you will not forget it."
I fought back with everything I had and shoved against him. In my head, I called out in panic, "Anna! Please help me!"
But no answer came.
Five years had passed since that rogue wolves' attack, the moment my wolf disappeared after saving Ethan.
Back then, I stood out as one of the most promising students at Pack Academy. Everyone believed I would become a strong Gamma warrior.
Now, even a low-ranking werewolf was too much for me to handle.
Hopelessness took over as my body was forced against the bar.
His breath brushed against my neck, making me feel sick.
Right when his hand was about to go further, the temperature around us suddenly dropped.
An overwhelming wave of Alpha pressure swept across the entire bar.
"Let her go."
A deep voice cut through the music, heavy like thunder.
The blond man went completely still.
Out of nowhere, someone seized his wrist with crushing force. A sharp crack rang out, followed by his scream, and he was thrown across the room before slamming into a booth.
My strength vanished, and I dropped straight into a firm, cold embrace.
A mix of sandalwood and a winter-like chill surrounded me, wrapping me completely.
It was Ethan.
He pulled me close without hesitation, his grip tight and unyielding, as if he wanted to hold me inside his own body.
From above, his gaze locked onto me, dark and unreadable like a raging sea.
"We're going home," he said, his voice strained through clenched teeth.
My body felt weak from the alcohol, so I leaned into him and breathed in what little of his scent remained.
"Sir, her purse..." the bartender said nervously while pointing down.
Without a word, Ethan bent over and picked up my purse, his expression cold.
As he lifted it, a wrinkled sheet of paper slipped out from the open zipper and fell near his feet.
The haze of alcohol faded at once, and my heart missed a beat.
That paper was my ultrasound report.
