Chapter 25
Freya
Lucas pulled his Ferrari to the curb outside my apartment building. The night air held the remnants of our confrontation with Paxton, hanging between us like an invisible barrier.
"I'll remember this address," he said with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Next time, I'll come straight here to pick you up."
I didn't respond. My body felt leaden, weighed down by emotional exhaustion. Without a backward glance, I walked through the building entrance, ignoring the pulsing ache at the back of my neck where Paxton's mark burned like a constant reminder of my status—claimed but unwanted.
Upstairs, I moved to close the curtains and noticed Lucas's red Ferrari still parked below, headlights flashing once. He looked up, spotted me, and made an exaggerated gesture—blowing a kiss with a playful wink.
I sighed and yanked the curtains closed. The Morgan pack's new Alpha with his perpetually unconventional style. If not for our business relationship and the werewolf council's arrangements, I'd prefer keeping him at arm's length.
My fingers absently traced the mark on my neck. It felt unnaturally warm beneath my touch, a physical manifestation of the bond that would soon be broken. I slipped into the shower, letting hot water cascade over my skin, hoping it might wash away some of the day's tension. It didn't.
Sleep claimed me almost immediately after my head hit the pillow, my body surrendering to exhaustion.
My alarm's insistent blaring dragged me from the depths of sleep. I groaned, fumbling to silence it. This bone-deep fatigue had been growing worse since the mark started hurting—like trying to function with weights attached to my limbs.
After a hasty morning routine, I swallowed an inhibitor pill, hoping to dull the throbbing at my neck. The medication barely took the edge off these days.
I was the first to arrive at the office, savoring the quiet before the day's inevitable confrontations. The peace didn't last long.
"You're really dedicated, aren't you?" Lucas's voice broke the silence as he appeared in my doorway, carrying a large paper bag.
He placed the bag on my desk and unpacked what appeared to be breakfast for half the office—coffee, sandwiches, eggs, muffins, fruit, and yogurt spread across my workspace.
"Eat up," he said, his eyes studying me with interest. "I want my future mate to be strong and healthy, though your Alpha scent is getting more noticeable by the day. Quite fascinating."
I raised an eyebrow, keeping my tone even. "Alpha Lucas, this is a workplace. Mind your words. I still bear Paxton's mark."
"For now," Lucas replied with unwavering confidence. "But your mark is starting to loosen. It won't be long."
The sudden flood of powerful Alpha pheromones in the room announced Paxton's arrival before I saw him. He stood in the doorway, also carrying a bag, his eyes cold as they swept from Lucas to me. My mark reacted immediately, a sharp twinge of recognition that made me wince.
"Willow prepare this for you," Paxton said, placing his bag in front of me and pushing Lucas's offering aside. "It contains herbs to help with the mark pain."
He turned to Lucas, eyes flashing gold momentarily. "Alpha Lucas, having territory expansion problems lately? Sterling Enterprises isn't wolf territory for your pack to wander into."
Lucas's mouth curved into an easy smile. "Actually, my top priority these days is courting Freya." He glanced at me deliberately. "I consider her a potential Alpha mate. Don't worry—I'll be around frequently. After all, she'll soon be free of your mark, won't she?"
The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees as Paxton's jaw tightened. He watched Lucas leave before turning his attention back to me.
"Aren't you going to eat?" he asked, nodding toward the bag he'd brought. "Willow says it's your favorite—the energy drink. She prepared it specially."
I offered a slight smile that held no warmth, pushed his bag away, and deliberately reached for Lucas's coffee instead. I took a deep sip, avoiding Paxton's gaze even as my mark stung in protest at my defiance.
"I don't like it anymore," I said flatly.
The truth was, I'd never particularly enjoyed the energy drink. I'd only claimed to like them because it was a Sterling pack tradition—another way I'd molded myself to fit his world.
"Willow said you always loved the energy drink," Paxton persisted, his eyes showing a flicker of concern beneath the coldness.
"I don't anymore," I repeated, my voice steady.
He scoffed, turning away. As he reached the door, he grabbed the bag he'd brought and threw it into the trash with enough force to make the bin crash against the wall. His Alpha anger saturated the room, pressing against my skin like a physical weight.
We worked in tense silence for the next few hours. I could feel Paxton's eyes on me occasionally, but neither of us spoke beyond necessary communications. The mark on my neck pulsed in rhythm with the uncomfortable atmosphere.
Near the end of the day, Samuel appeared carrying a large garment box. He nodded respectfully to me before approaching Paxton.
"Alpha Paxton, your custom attire has arrived," Samuel announced, handing over the box.
Paxton immediately walked to my desk and placed the box before me. "For tomorrow night's charity gala," he stated matter-of-factly. "We'll attend together. It's an important event."
I looked up, momentary confusion breaking through my carefully maintained facade. "Shouldn't your special assistant Lyra be your companion for such occasions?" The words carried more bitterness than I'd intended.
"Lyra isn't ready for these events yet," Paxton replied, his eyes flicking to my neck where his mark remained visible. "After the mark dissolution ceremony, I'll naturally take her. But for now, you still bear my mark."
He opened the box, revealing a red gown. It was nearly identical to the one I'd worn at the last wolf gathering—from the same wolf designer, with the same luxurious fabric. The only difference was the neckline, which seemed designed to display the mark more prominently.
"It's almost the same as that one," Paxton said, his voice softening almost imperceptibly. "You'll like it."
I kept my expression neutral, refusing to be moved by what might have been an attempt at an apology for our last formal event disaster.
"Business is business," I replied evenly. "Like or dislike doesn't enter into it."
Something flashed in his eyes—frustration, perhaps regret—before his expression hardened again.