Chapter 2 The Calm Hunter

Lila POV

Romano's wine had made Marcus unusually affectionate. He swayed slightly as we left the restaurant, his arm wrapped possessively around my waist.

"Let's go home, beautiful," he murmured against my ear. "I want to take care of you tonight."

"Marcus!" Ryan Blackwood called from behind us. "You're still coming to Shadowhawk, right? The Seattle pack is expecting us."

Marcus didn't even turn around, pulling me closer. "Not tonight. My wife isn't feeling well. She needs her medication."

Ryan made a dismissive sound. "Since when do you skip pack business for—"

"Since always," Marcus cut him off firmly. "Lila comes first."

The declaration should have warmed my heart. Instead, I felt my phone buzz with an incoming message.

Want to bet on what your husband chooses tonight? His sick little wife or the woman carrying his child?

My steps faltered as I read the text. Marcus noticed immediately, his brow creasing with concern.

"Everything okay, sweetheart?"

I locked my phone quickly. "Just work stuff."

Marcus reached for my phone, but it started ringing in my hand. Unknown number, but I could guess who it was.

"Don't answer it," Marcus said, his voice tight.

"Why not?" I looked at him innocently. "Unless you know something I don't?"

Before he could respond, his own phone started ringing. A cheerful pop song I'd never heard before—definitely not his usual ringtone.

Marcus glanced at the screen, and I saw something flicker across his face. Guilt. Longing. Calculation.

"You should answer that," I said calmly. "Sounds important."

"It's probably just—"

"Answer it, Marcus."

The authority in my voice surprised us both. Marcus hesitated, glancing between his ringing phone and my face.

"I'll wait by the car," I said, walking toward our driver without looking back.

Through the car's window, I watched Marcus answer the call. The transformation was immediate and devastating. His posture straightened, the drunk sway vanished, and his face lit up with genuine joy. Whatever fog the wine had created disappeared the moment he heard that voice.

I looked away, my throat burning. My phone buzzed again.

See how quickly he sobered up for me? Five minutes and he'll find some excuse to ditch you.

Another message followed immediately: He told me about your dinner plans. Said Romano's used to be special for you two. Past tense, honey.

I gripped my phone, watching Marcus through the side mirror. He was pacing now, one hand running through his hair in the gesture I'd once found endearing. His voice carried just enough for me to catch fragments—"miss you" and "can't wait" and "yes, of course."

When he finally hung up and approached the car, his expression had shifted to practiced regret.

"Hey," he said, sliding in beside me. "I'm so sorry, but something urgent came up."

"At the office?" My voice was perfectly level.

"Yeah. Crisis with the Seattle contracts. I have to go handle it personally." He reached for my hand, thumb tracing apologetic circles. "Rain check on the quiet evening?"

"Of course. Business first."

Marcus's relief was visible. "You're amazing. I don't deserve you."

Finally, something true, I thought.

"How long will you be?" I asked.

"Hard to say. Don't wait up." He leaned over to kiss my forehead. "Get some rest, take your medication. I'll make this up to you."

As our driver pulled into traffic, my phone rang. This time I answered.

"Enjoying the drive home alone?" Vera's voice was sickeningly sweet.

"What do you want?"

"Just wanted to thank you for making this so easy. The way you just accepted his excuse? Pathetic."

I said nothing.

"He's on his way to me now," Vera continued. "We're going to celebrate our baby news properly. In the hotel room where we conceived, actually. Room 1247 at the Emerald Bay, in case you're curious."

"Are you finished?"

Vera's laugh was razor-sharp. "Oh, honey, I'm just getting started. Do you know what he calls you when we're together? His 'obligation.' His 'business arrangement.' He says you're useful but boring, that you don't understand what a real man needs."

Each word was a calculated blow, designed to wound and humiliate.

"He told me you tried to seduce him last night after the party," Vera went on. "Said you were desperate and clingy. We laughed about it while he—"

I hung up.

My hands were shaking, so I clasped them in my lap. Through the car window, Lucerne Bay's lights blurred past like fallen stars.

My phone buzzed with a final text: Sweet dreams, Mrs. Grey. While you're alone in bed, I'll be showing your husband what he's been missing.

The message included a photo—Vera in lingerie, posed on rumpled hotel sheets. The timestamp showed it was taken twenty minutes ago.

I stared at the image, something cold and deadly settling in my chest. Vera thought she was winning this game. She thought reducing me to tears was victory.

She had no idea what was coming.

I deleted the message and opened my contacts, scrolling to the European Arts Council email. I began typing my acceptance letter, my fingers steady now.

Nights were tough for me. Those sweet memories, now mixed with the sting of betrayal, kept me up and wouldn't let me rest.

If Marcus wanted to play games, I'd show him how it was done.