My fingers tighten around the phone 77

Emma’s POV
I watched Aria’s retreating figure through the car window, a satisfied smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. The crisp
night air swirled around her as she stormed off into the darkness, flagging down a taxi like the desperate woman she was.
Mission accomplished. My carefully orchestrated performance in the side hall had successfully driven a wedge between
her and Ethan. The look of betrayal in her eyes when she overhead my tearful confession to Ethan had been absolutely
delicious.
When Ethan bolted from the car to chase after her, white-hot rage surged through my veins. How dare he? My fingers
dug into the leather seat until my knuckles turned white, and my wolf thrashed beneath my skin, howling with jealousy. I
could taste blood in my mouth from biting the inside of my cheek to keep from screaming. After everything I’d done, all
my careful planning, he was literally running after that worthless, wolf-less bitch? I had to force myself to take deep
breaths, to swallow down the bile rising in my throat. I watched through the windshield as he reached for her, his
desperation so obvious it made me physically ill.
Only when I saw him returning to the car, his shoulders slumped in defeat, did I master myself enough to transform my
fury into a convincing mask of innocent concern.
His scent hit me first—pine and rain and that unmistakable alpha musk that always made my wolf purr with desire. But
tonight, his usually intoxicating aroma was tainted with something else—frustration and anger rolled off him in waves. It
took all my self-control not to wrinkle my nose.
“Was that about me?” I asked as he slid behind the wheel, carefully making my voice tremble just enough to sound
genuinely distressed. “Is she leaving because of me?”
I risked a glance at Ethan’s profile as he started the car. The streetlights illuminated his chiseled features in flashes—that
strong brow, those full lips, the aristocratic nose. He was, without question, the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. And the
most powerful. The ultimate prize.
The city lights blurred as we drove in tense silence toward my Shadow Fang residence. The night wasn’t going as I’d
planned. Ethan was supposed to be comforting me by now, reassuring me that Aria’s coldness wasn’t my fault, promising
to protect me from her animosity. Instead, he was brooding, lost in thoughts I couldn’t penetrate.
We drove through the elaborately carved gates of the Shadow Fang territory, the ancient stone pillars standing sentinel
on either side of the entrance. My residence—gifted to me by Ethan months ago—stood at the end of a winding
driveway lined with ancient oaks. It was breathtaking, a symbol of my proximity to power. But it was also painfully empty,
a glittering cage that housed just one lonely bird.
Ethan pulled up to the circular driveway, the car’s headlights illuminating the imposing front facade. The engine hummed
softly in the background as I gathered my courage.
“Would you like to come in for a while?” I asked, adjusting my posture to appear more vulnerable, more in need of
protection. I allowed one delicate hand to rest on his forearm, the gesture both intimate and hesitant. “I’ve been feeling
so lonely lately… in this big house all by myself.”
I saw his fingers tighten on the steering wheel, the tendons standing out under his skin. For a moment, I thought I’d
pushed too hard. But then he exhaled slowly, deliberately.
“I’m sorry, Emma,” he replied, his voice cool and distant. “I have an urgent meeting to attend.”
Disappointment and rage boiled beneath my skin, but I maintained my carefully crafted expression of brave acceptance. I
managed a small, tremulous smile, swallowing down the acidic anger threatening to bubble up.
“Perhaps you could invite your family to stay with you?” he suggested, clearly grasping for something—anything—to say
that might alleviate his guilt.
Family? I mentally scoffed. My parents, those useless, penniless nobodies who had contributed nothing to my ascent
beyond their mediocre genetics? The very thought of them shuffling through my marble halls, touching my custom
furnishings with their common hands, made my skin crawl.
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“I’ll think about it,” I said softly, letting another tear spill for good measure. “Thank you for driving me home.”
I reluctantly exited the vehicle, my designer heels clicking against the stone driveway as I made my way to the front door.
I stood there, waving with a wistful smile until his black Range Rover disappeared around the corner. The moment it was
out of sight, my expression darkened like a storm cloud blotting out the sun.
I stormed into the house, slamming the door with enough force to send reverberations through the entire building. The
tasteful entryway with its crystal chandelier and marble flooring—picked out by Ethan’s interior decorator—suddenly
seemed to mock me with its emptiness. I kicked off my shoes, sending one expensive heel flying into a nearby vase,
shattering it instantly. The crash was satisfying, but not nearly enough to quell the fury burning inside me.
“Goddamn it!” I screamed, my voice echoing through the cavernous space. My wolf clawed beneath my skin, demanding
release, but I fought the shift. Transforming while this angry would only result in destroyed furniture.
I stalked to the wine cabinet, yanking out an obscenely expensive bottle of Cabernet and poured myself a generous glass,
not bothering with proper aeration. The rich, tannic liquid burned a path down my throat as I gulped it down gracelessly.
Why did Ethan have no desire for me? After everything I’d done, all the careful planning and manipulation, why did he
still look at me with such detachment? And why did he look at *her*—that worthless, wolf-less mother and her bastard
child—with such hunger in his eyes?