My fingers tighten around the phone 92

Ethan’s POV
“Get out!” I roared into the phone, slamming my fist against the mahogany desk. The wood vibrated beneath my
knuckles as another incompetent fool tried to tell me how to run my pack. My throat burned raw from shouting all morning. I grabbed the crystal whiskey bottle from my desk, glanced at my empty tumbler, then back at the bottle, weighing the decision for only a heartbeat. Screw it. I tilted my head back and took a long, burning swig directly from the
bottle, the amber liquid scorching a fiery path down my throat. The glass sat abandoned, a silent witness to my descent.
It didn’t matter anymore.
A timid knock at my door barely registered through the alcohol haze beginning to settle over me. The secretary who
entered—some mousy-haired woman I barely recognized—hovered in the doorway like a frightened rabbit. Her eyes
darted nervously around the room, settling anywhere but on my face as she clutched her tablet to her chest like a shield.
“Sir,” she began, her voice quavering slightly, “Miss Emma has requested that I add her as your companion for the charity
opera event.” Her fingers fidgeted with the edge of her tablet, knuckles white with tension.
A wave of guilt crashed through me. I’d been in a foul mood ever since the fight with Aria and I’d probably been taking it
out on people who didn’t deserve it. I ran a hand through my disheveled hair, trying to soften my tone.
“Thank you. But send Emma a separate invitation. I won’t be escorting her as my date,” I replied, making a mental note to
give all my assistants a substantial bonus for putting up with me this week.
Before the secretary could retreat, Leo sauntered past her and into my office like he owned the place. His tailored suit
was immaculate as always, not a wrinkle in sight, his cologne announcing his presence before he even opened his mouth.
“Hey!” Leo flashed that megawatt smile. His perfect teeth gleamed under the office lights, a stark contrast to my
disheveled appearance.
I dismissed the secretary with a nod, waiting until the door clicked shut before responding. “Two visits in one week,” I
grumbled, this time pouring the whiskey into my glass with a shaking hand. “What brought you here on earth?”
Leo watched the amber liquid slosh against the crystal, a flicker of surprise darting across his perfectly groomed features.
“Drinking on the job? Classy, darling.” His voice dripped with sarcasm.
I stiffened at his use of that ridiculous and disgusting “darling”, my fingers twitching with the urge to punch that smug
expression off his face. Instead, I merely glowered at him, feeling Felix stir restlessly inside me. “What do you want?”
Leo chuckled, settling himself into the chair opposite my desk, crossing one leg over the other in a casual pose that
somehow still looked like it belonged in a magazine spread. “Are you going to the charity opera?”
“Yes,” I sighed, rubbing my temples where a headache was beginning to form. “I didn’t want to go, but my father needs me to take his place.” The thought of an evening in formal wear, surrounded by pack politics and pretense, made me want to down the entire bottle in one go.
“How is your father?” Leo asked, pacing slowly around the room, his fingers trailing along the bookshelves with idle
curiosity.
“His health isn’t great, but nothing too serious,” I said without elaborating, and thankfully, Leo didn’t press further. My
patience was hanging by a thread. “What are you really doing here?”
Leo turned back to me, flashing that practiced smile again—the one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m planning to take
Aria to the opera,” he announced, each word a dagger sliding between my ribs, “and was wondering if you’d like to
double date. You know, you and Emma, me and Aria?” His eyes gleamed with challenge. “What do you think, darling?”
My stomach dropped to the floor, a cold sweat breaking out across my skin. Leo was taking Aria to the charity opera? The
images flooded my mind uninvited—her in an elegant gown, her smile directed at him, his hand resting possessively on
the small of her back. I wanted to snarl, to tell him to get lost, to tell him that Aria was mine, but her words echoed
painfully in my ears: “It was just a dream.” She didn’t want me. I lashed out at him for an entirely different reason, my
voice dropping to a dangerous growl.
“Don’t call me that.”
“Why not?” Leo’s eyebrows shot up in mock surprise. “I think it’s an adorable nickname. When Aria told me you were with
Emma, I didn’t quite believe it.” His face twisted with distaste, mirroring what I was certain was my own expression. The
thought of being with Emma or anyone other than Aria made my stomach churn like I’d swallowed acid.
I downed my drink in one burning gulp and poured another, the bottle clinking against the rim of the glass. I was
teetering at the edge of being too drunk to work, but that was preferable to dwelling on the pain of Aria’s words. The
whiskey dulled the edges, blurred the razor-sharp memory of her face when she told me it was all just a dream. God, I
was pathetic.
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“Emma and I aren’t together,” I mumbled, trying to focus on the documents in front of me, but the words were starting to
swim across the page in meaningless patterns. My vision blurred at the edges, the room tilting slightly as I leaned
forward. Damn, I should stop drinking, but it was the only thing keeping Aria’s words at bay.
“Then why did you give her a mansion?” Leo asked pointedly, settling himself in the chair across from me, his eyes never
leaving my face.
I shook my head, a dark laugh bursting from my chest like something broken and jagged. “Fuck, I have to take care of
her. I did something, and now I’m dealing with the consequences.” The words tasted bitter on my tongue, coated with the
lingering burn of whiskey.
Leo leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands propped under his chin in a pose of exaggerated interest. “What exactly
did you do?” His voice had lost its teasing edge, replaced by genuine curiosity.
“I, uh.” I swallowed hard, feeling the confession lodge in my throat like a fishbone. I didn’t know where to begin, what words to use that wouldn’t make me sound like the monster I sometimes feared I was.
The words started to form and tumble out, dragged from some dark place inside me. “Years ago, after a wild wolf attack
left several of my warriors injured or dead, I stupidly got drunk at a resort in the wilderness while handling the situation.”
I paused, remembering the weight of those deaths, the responsibility crushing me until I’d reached for the bottle. “I
managed to get back to my hotel room, but…”
I trailed off, my thoughts a tangled mess of fragments and sensations. It was difficult to voice the next part, to put words
to something I’d spent years trying to forget. I tried to recall the details, but my memory only held the barest impressions —that unusual scent that had called to my wolf, those faint moans that still haunted my dreams. Leo leaned back in his
chair, one leg crossed over the other in calculated nonchalance. He gestured for me to continue, his elegant fingers weaving through the air as he prompted, “But…”
I closed my eyes, unable to look at him as the confession poured out. Taking a deep breath that filled my lungs with
liquid courage, I continued, “Before I passed out completely, someone had entered my room. I grabbed her, and it was
like my rational mind completely shut down.” The memory flashed through my mind—disconnected images of pale skin,
the sound of tearing fabric, the scent of fear and arousal mingling in the air. “I barely remember most of that night, but I
know I had sex with the woman.”
“What does that have to do with Emma?” Leo frowned, confusion knitting his brows together.
My fingers gripped the glass so tightly I feared it might shatter. “I realized she was a virgin, but I passed out before I
could get a good look at her.” Shame scorched through me, hotter than the whiskey. “Before falling asleep, I left my
necklace so I could find her again. Six years later, I finally found her, thanks to that necklace.”
“Emma?” Leo scoffed, disbelief evident in his tone. “But Emma was an adult, so I don’t understand why you’re confining
yourself to taking care of her just because you slept with her.” His eyes narrowed as he studied me, trying to piece
together the puzzle.
My face contorted, shame and guilt evident as I struggled to get the next words out. They felt like razor blades in my
throat. “According to her, it seems it was a rape.”
Leo’s expression changed instantly, his eyes widening before narrowing to assess me with new intensity. I continued, the words pouring out like a dam had broken inside me, rushed and desperate.
“I was so drunk that night I barely remember anything, and I didn’t explain properly. Afterward, Emma’s family basically
kicked her out, and my actions ruined many things in her life.” The memory of Emma’s tears, her accusations, her
desperation washed over me in a wave of guilt. “I take responsibility for what happened. That’s what I’m doing now.”
Leo’s face went completely blank, but his eyes flashed with something—anger, disbelief, I couldn’t tell which. The silence
stretched between us, taut and uncomfortable.
“This is absurd,” he finally said, leaning forward. “Would you do something like that?” His tone wasn’t accusatory, merely
probing, but it still stung.
“But I did, Leo,” I countered, the alcohol loosening my tongue, making the confession easier. “I screwed up. I was too
drunk to know better, but that’s no excuse.”
Leo searched my face, his eyes boring into mine as if trying to read the truth written there.
“So, how long will you atone? Your entire life?” Leo asked quietly, but I remained silent, uncertain of the answer. How long
was enough to pay for destroying someone’s life? “You might as well just make Emma your Luna and tie yourself to her