Aurelia POV
My phone slipped from my trembling fingers, clattering onto the desk. Graves stood in the doorway, his massive frame blocking the hallway light. The suffocating, intoxicating scent of impending storm and rich leather instantly swallowed the room.
Did he hear me? Panic clawed at my throat. I stared at him, my heart hammering against my ribs. But his glacial eyes held no recognition of my secret plans, only a dark, restless agitation. I could sense his Inner Wolf pacing beneath his skin, bleeding from the fractured bond and our impending separation, though Graves clearly mistook the primal ache for pure annoyance at my disobedience.
He didn't ask who I was talking to. He didn't care.
"We're leaving," he commanded, his voice a lethal, vibrating whip that left no room for argument. "Now."
I swallowed hard, lowering my gaze to hide my guilt, and silently followed him out.
The ride in his custom-built, armored SUV was a suffocating cage. The tinted windows trapped his overwhelming Alpha aura inside with me. A wave of nausea hit me—the early signs of the secret growing in my womb—and I pressed myself against the cold leather door, my skin pale and clammy.
Suddenly, he leaned in. The sheer force of his proximity stole the air from my lungs. I flinched, memories of last night's forced kiss and the bitter medicine flashing through my mind. But he only raised his hand, the icy back of his knuckles brushing against my forehead.
For a fraction of a second, my traitorous heart fluttered. A ridiculous, pathetic thought whispered that maybe he cared.
Then, his jaw clenched. "Whatever game you're playing, stop it," he snapped, pulling his hand back as if my skin burned him. "Your paleness will upset my grandmother, and I will not have her health compromised by your theatrics."
The words felt like a silver blade twisting in my chest. I stared at his sharp profile, the last fragile illusion of the man I loved shattering into dust. He didn't care about my pain. He only cared about his Pack and his family. I bit the inside of my cheek, my resolve to execute the Rejection hardening into steel.
We arrived at the Pack's private Sanatorium. The scent of medicinal herbs and old pine hung heavy in the crisp night air. As we walked toward the entrance, I deliberately slowed my pace, unable to stomach the thought of playing his devoted Luna.
Graves stopped. His eyes darkened as he noted the Pack Doctors and Warriors bowing their heads in respect as they passed. He stepped into my space, his voice dropping to a vicious whisper meant only for my ears.
"You wanted the Rejection. How it proceeds—quickly and quietly, or slowly and painfully for your pathetic home Pack—depends on your performance in the next hour."
A chill seeped into my bones. He was holding my entire Pack hostage over a performance. I had no choice. I stepped forward and stiffly looped my arm through his. The electric jolt of our mate-bond sparked at the contact, a cruel, mocking reminder of what we were supposed to be.
Elder Cecelia's suite was warm, bathed in the soft, warm light of several elegant lamps. The silver-haired former Luna sat in a plush armchair, her sharp, wise eyes lighting up as we entered arm-in-arm.
"Graves. Aurelia," she greeted warmly, reaching out.
I forced a smile, stepping forward to take her frail, wrinkled hands. But as she pulled me closer, Cecelia paused. Her nose twitched. The smile on her face shifted into something far more profound and terrifyingly perceptive.
She inhaled deeply, her gaze piercing right through my carefully constructed defenses.
"Aurelia, my child," Cecelia murmured, a knowing smile touching her lips. "Your scent… it has the whisper of new life in it."
The blood drained from my face. My entire body turned to ice. Panic, raw and suffocating, seized my lungs as I instinctively shot a terrified glance at Graves. Beside me, the Alpha's brow furrowed in deep, dangerous confusion.
