CLOVER
The wedding celebration was a spectacle—all golden grandeur and hollow laughter. Guests danced and mingled, their voices a symphony of feigned joy. I lingered at the edges, Howard’s steady presence at my side, though even he couldn’t silence the storm brewing inside me. My lavender gown felt suffocating, an emblem of the farce unfolding around us.
A servant approached, her voice barely audible over the revelry. “Luna Clover, Alpha Logan requests your presence in his office.”
Howard’s hand tightened on the armrest of his wheelchair. His eyes locked onto mine, a silent question: Are you sure?
I nodded and signed, I’ll be fine.
He hesitated but finally said, “Call if you need me.”
The manor’s hallways were too familiar, each step dredging up memories I’d rather forget. When I reached my father’s office, the door loomed heavy and foreboding. I pushed it open, and there he was, Alpha Logan, seated behind his massive desk, his presence a suffocating weight.
“Close the door,” he ordered, his voice as sharp as I remembered. I complied, the sound of the latch echoing in the tense silence. “Sit.”
I obeyed, my hands clasped tightly in my lap.
“How is the Red Obsidian Pack treating you?” he began, his tone deceptively casual. “Obeying your Alpha husband like a good little Luna?”
I nodded, refusing to meet his gaze.
His eyes gleamed with a predatory glint. “What is Howard hiding? High fences, locked gates—what’s behind them? Tell me his weakness.”
My silence was his answer.
His face darkened, and he rose abruptly, circling the desk. “Speak!” he demanded. “You’ve been mute long enough. It’s time to prove your worth.”
I shook my head, my refusal stoking his fury. His hand shot out, grabbing my shoulders and shaking me. “You will speak!” he bellowed.
When I didn’t, his palm cracked across my cheek, the force of it leaving my vision blurry. Pain flared, but I bit back tears, refusing to crumble.
“You’re nothing without me,” he sneered. “Unwanted. Useless. Don’t forget that.”
A growl echoed in my mind. Enough, Cleo snarled.
“Stop it!” The words erupted from me, my voice reverberating in the room. Logan froze, his shock mirrored in my own trembling limbs.
The door burst open. Thomas and Lucille rushed in, their faces pale with disbelief.
“Clover,” Thomas said, his voice hushed. “You can talk?”
I ignored him, locking eyes with my father. “You will not lay a hand on me again,” I said, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside. “I am not yours to control.”
Thomas stepped forward, but before he could reach me, Howard’s presence filled the doorway like a thundercloud. His wheelchair moved with commanding precision, his voice low and lethal. “Don’t touch her.”
Thomas froze, his hand dropping. Howard’s gaze shifted to Logan, cold and unyielding. “If you ever hurt her again, I will end you.”
For the first time, I saw fear flicker in my father’s eyes. He didn’t speak. He didn’t dare.
Howard turned to me, his expression unreadable. “Come with me,” he said softly.
The ride back to the Red Obsidian Pack was silent, tension thick in the air. Howard’s jaw was tight, his eyes fixed on the horizon. When we reached the mansion, he paused only to glance back at me. “Come to my room.”
I followed, confused and hesitant. Inside, he motioned to the bedside drawer. “There’s a first aid kit. Bring it here.”
I retrieved it, handing it over. Howard opened it and gestured for me to sit. “You’re hurt.”
Realization struck as I touched my cheek and saw the faint bruises on my wrists. Reluctantly, I sat. He dabbed antiseptic on my skin with surprising gentleness. “You didn’t deserve what he did to you,” he said, anger simmering in his tone.
“This is the first time anyone’s cared for my wounds,” I signed, my hands trembling. Tears threatened to spill, but I looked away.
Howard stilled, his hand resting on mine. “Not anymore,” he said softly. “You’re not alone here.”
His words stirred something fragile inside me. As he cleaned the cut on my cheek, his eyes met mine, and for a moment, the weight of the world lifted.
But the moment shattered with a sharp knock at the door. A guard entered, his face tense. “Alpha, Tanya and Thomas are at the gates. They’re demanding to see you.”
Howard’s expression darkened. “Keep them outside. Don’t let them in.”
The guard nodded, but the tension lingered. Howard’s gaze bore into mine. “They’re here for something. And I won’t let them have it.”
Another knock, softer and hesitant, broke the silence. My heart stilled as realization struck. There was only one person it could be.
“Blaire,” Howard murmured, his voice filled with equal parts fear and resolve.
