Chapter 76

Third Person

Reid woke with a headache pounding behind his eyes like a war drum. The leather couch and dark room was unfamiliar. The air smelled like sweat and perfume that wasn’t his mate’s.

And then he felt it. Warmth beside him. The subtle shift of weight on the cushions.

His stomach dropped.

He turned his head slowly, painfully, and saw Chloe sitting upright in his shirt, her bare legs folded neatly beneath her, a porcelain teacup balanced in her manicured fingers.

She was already made up, hair pinned, skin glowing like this was just another meeting.

He sat up too quickly and nearly threw up.

“What the fuck did you do?” he rasped, voice raw.

She didn’t blink. “You drank the wrong glass.”

“What does that mean?” His chest was tight. “What the hell does that mean, Chloe?”

Chloe tilted her head, studying him like he was the puzzle in this situation. “I meant for it to be Logan’s. But you were quicker. And more… pliant.”

The memory hit him as a punch in the gut; flashes, fragments of her mouth on his, hands tangled in hair, heat against heat.

But it felt distant even while it was happening. Blurry. Like he was underwater the whole time. He had initiated it, but on his life he didn’t know why. He hadn’t said anything.

“I was drugged,” he said, disbelief curling into his throat. “You drugged me.”

She shrugged. “It wasn’t poison, if that’s what you’re worried about. Just a little… easing agent.”

He swung his legs to a sitting position, hands gripping the edge hard enough to turn his knuckles white. “You’re insane.”

“And you’re handsy and sloppy when you drink,” she said coolly.

Reid’s head snapped toward her, fury boiling beneath his skin. “I have a Mate.”

“Yes,” she said, setting her teacup down gently on the side table. “And I’m sure she’d be heartbroken if she saw this.”

She reached for her phone beside her. He didn’t want to see it. But he had to look.

The screen lit up. A folder titled with yesterday’s date. Inside there were dozens of pictures. Time-stamped.

Him shirtless, one arm slung around Chloe’s waist. Her curled underneath him, flushed, perfectly positioned to ruin him.

It would be enough to break the fragile trust between him and the Pack he was meant to lead.

His throat closed. “You set me up.”

“I adapted,” she said.

“Why?” he growled. “What the hell do you want from me?”

She leaned forward then, the edge of her voice still sickly sweet but edged with acid beneath. “I want you to understand what it feels like to be second. I want to stop losing to her.”

“This isn’t about Emily.”

“Oh, it always is.”

Reid stood, blood pounding in his ears, chest heaving. “You think this’ll end well for you? You think you’ll get what you want by blackmailing me?”

Chloe stood too, far too calm. “You’ll play along. You don’t want a scandal, and neither do I. We’ll keep this quiet.”

“I’ll deny it.”

She held the phone up again like the threat it was. “Then I’ll leak everything. To your Mate, your Pack. You’ll be remembered as the man who cheated and lied. At best, your mate leaves you and your father hands the Pack to Logan instead of you.”

Reid’s hand balled into a fist and slammed into the wall, a sharp crack echoing through the suite. He didn’t care if it bled.

“I will not be your public puppet.”

“You don’t have to be,” she said smoothly. “Just don’t get in my way.”

She turned her back on him, already gathering her things.

And Reid stood there, breath heaving, the blood on his knuckles warm and dripping to the carpet.

He didn’t know what Chloe wanted to become. But he knew this much now: she wasn’t afraid to drag both their names through the dirt to get it.

“Meet me in the gardens this afternoon, we’ll talk more then. I have some business to attend to,” she said, not leaving any room for argument.

Chloe had chosen the garden terrace deliberately. Discretion was always more enjoyable when the setting was beautiful.

She leaned against the curved stone railing, arms folded loosely over her waist, the picture of calm. But inside, she was watching the path from the main corridor with a predator’s patience.

Reid arrived late.

He looked the worse for wear: eyes dark, jaw tense, hair slightly mussed with worry. His coat was unbuttoned. His steps were deliberate, as if he were walking into battle and couldn’t decide which weapon to draw.

“You have five minutes,” he said flatly.

Chloe didn’t pretend to be offended. “Plenty of time,” she said with a shrug.

“I’m not marrying you,” he said, his voice low, firm. “I don’t care what lies you spin or how many photos you took. I have a Mate. And I may have made a mistake last night, but I won’t humiliate her to clean it up.”

Chloe looked at him for a long moment, letting the silence linger. Then she tilted her head slightly. “I never asked you to marry me.”

That gave him pause.

She stepped forward, slowly. “You think I want your little potential title? A Pack seat that still smells like your father’s sweat? No. What I want is relevance and credibility. Access.”

“You want to use me.”

“I want you to stand next to me at the right moments. Nothing official or course, or anything that would look suspicious. Just look pretty and make people ask questions.”

His eyes narrowed. “You want to be seen with me.”

“I want to be seen with power,” she corrected. “And you’re still clinging to enough of it to be useful.”

Reid’s jaw worked. “You drugged me.”

“You were never supposed to drink that glass,” she said simply. “But you did. And now we’re here.”

He took a step forward, fists clenched. “You think I’ll keep your secrets? You think I’ll pretend nothing happened?”

She smiled, showing a hint of teeth.

“No, Reid. I think you’ll protect your own secrets. Because if those pictures go public, no one will care whether it was a mistake. They’ll only care that you were in bed with someone who isn’t your Mate. And they’ll care that you lied about it.”

He stared at her for a long, heavy moment. Then he looked away; at the garden walls, the trembling leaves, the trees beside the path.

Anywhere but at Chloe.

When Reid finally spoke again, his voice was deadened. “You get your appearances. That’s it. No statements. No stories. No more drugs. Otherwise you stay the fuck away from me.”

Chloe’s shoulders eased, just barely. “Of course.”

“If you try to push beyond that, I will bury you,” he added, voice quiet but lethal. “And I won’t care what it costs me.”

Chloe nodded like they were finalizing a business deal. “Fair enough. Please doing business with you, Reid.”

Reid turned to leave, having had enough of this conversation, and of Chloe. But before he stepped off the terrace, he paused without looking back. “You’ll never get Logan to love you.”

Chloe’s smile faltered. And Reid didn’t stick around to see it.

She stood there long after he was gone, staring at the hedge line. She didn’t want to be Emily. She just wanted what was rightfully hers, and for Emily to go back to being the castaway.

And if she had to manipulate, threaten, and seduce her way to getting it?

Then so be it.