CHAPTER FOUR
"Alpha, if you truly believe she’s innocent, then why did you cast her aside?" The lead bodyguard, Ronan, asked, his voice low and hesitant.
Alpha Thorne’s jaw tightened, a flicker of bitterness dimming his normally sharp gaze. His throat felt parched, voice flat as he replied, “That decision isn’t yours to question.”
Ronan furrowed his brow, hesitation deepening as he studied the Alpha. “I …I think I remember her from—”
“Don’t finish that,” Thorne cut in with uncharacteristic edge, irritation crackling around his words. “I’m heading to the pack now.”
The recollection had clearly stirred something deeper—a memory Thorne didn’t want dredged up.
He steadied himself and turned back to the trio waiting before him.
“You three—go to Wolfsbane Pack. Observe everything Alpha Alaric does. Nothing gets past me. Report it all.”
Ronan straightened and bowed his head.
“Yes, Alpha.” Ever since Thorne first rejected Luna Celeste, his temper had grown more mercurial, every slight and rumor driving him toward frostier resolve.
The news of Celeste’s scandal had spread faster than wildfire—no one doubted her intellect or prowess. A warrior wolf renowned for strategy and ferocity, why would she dare stain her honor on the very night of her marking?
Thorne crushed out his cigar in an ornate ashtray and strode from his private office. The turrets of his headquarters in Duskwatch City were soundproofed—carefully constructed layers of steel and silence built for secrets.
His human secretary, Talia, always waited at her desk. She’d watched enough for her keen awareness of his habits; his occasional gracious acts—like holding smoke away from her to accommodate her allergies—were mistaken by some as kindness, but she knew better.
This was power, measured and controlled.
He stopped by her desk. “Cancel everything on my schedule for the next three days.”
Her pen hovered over the pad in shock.
Since his return from a brief trip two days prior, everything had been delayed or deprioritized.
Now it seemed a sudden eruption of turmoil had thrifted his attention away yet again.
Talia pressed, “Sir, what about Mr. Navarro’s meeting tomorrow? It’s critical for the Duskwatch City accord.”
Thorne sighed, but there was no hesitation.
“Call him now—reschedule. And notify everyone else: nothing proceeds while I’m gone. Update me continuously."
Without another word, he moved toward the door, as though weighty matters pulled him onward.
She braved a final question. “Sir, where are you going… exactly?”
He stopped. Salty impatience flickered in his gaze as he glanced over his shoulder.
“Need to come with me?”
She flinched, but not before asking what she needed to. “No… I was just—”
“If you can’t get ahold of me, email. Or text,” he replied sharply.
He left without waiting for a reply.
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At Guest Quarters – Shadowglen Pack
Celeste was asleep when the door opened. She awoke with a gasp as heavy footsteps sounded across the wooden floor.
Her thick eyelids fluttered—scent changed. Air shifted. Even the stale room felt different now.
Her muscles tensed as she tried to mindlink Astra—nothing came back. The void in her chest pulled her under again.
Footfalls drew closer, reverberating in her bones.
“You defied me,” Thorne said, low and fierce. “Disobeyed my order?”
His silhouette blocked the dim lamp’s glow, his presence a suffocating blanket.
Celeste swallowed—her throat dry. “I’m sorry, Alpha,” she whispered, voice raw.
His dark eyes narrowed. She swallowed again, waiting for the blow.
Celeste was retreating toward the far end of the room when the heavy oak door creaked open, and Alpha Thorne strode inside. She hadn’t expected him to come—certainly not unannounced, and certainly not now.
Was watching her suffer truly such a source of satisfaction for him? Or did he have another cruel motive behind this surprise visit?
Her lips parted, searching for a suitable explanation, for any words that might make sense of her current state. But nothing came. Her guilt wrestled with her fear as she followed his gaze—now fixed on the painting hung on the wall behind her.
Since being secluded in this modest cabin, stripped of responsibilities and status, Celeste had spent her time reviving an old pastime—painting. A hobby she hadn’t touched since her eighteenth birthday.
With her duties in the Wolfsbane Pack previously consuming every hour, she’d never had time for herself. Now that time loomed endlessly, she turned to the brush. Art had become her only sanctuary.
But Alpha Thorne’s eyes narrowed as he took in the image on the canvas. It was stark and colorless—a mirror of her current state. Lifeless, just like the emptiness that had gnawed at her ever since she was marked as rejected.
The man was an enigma, skilled at veiling his true feelings. Neither Celeste nor Kaelin could ever read the thoughts behind those piercing silver eyes. But his next action revealed everything.
“What is that?” he growled.
Before she could offer any defense, he ripped the painting from the wall and shredded it with his bare hands. The sound of canvas tearing was louder than it should’ve been, and each rip cut through her chest like a blade.