Aurora’s POV

​I walked into the packhouse office, my body feeling heavy and my mind even more messed up. Every step I took reminded me of the soreness between my thighs, a lingering mark of the man I had just screamed for over the phone.

​Elias was already at his desk, the sound of his typing filling the quiet morning air. He looked up and gave me a small, sympathetic nod. "Morning, Aurora," he said quietly.

​"Morning, Elias," I replied, my voice sounding flat even to my own ears. I sat down and opened my laptop, staring at the screen without really seeing it. I tried to focus on the lines of data, but all I could see were those tattooed fingers from the photo.

​"Alpha Oliver wants to see you," Elias said, interrupting my dark thoughts. "He said to head in as soon as you arrived."

​My heart sank into my stomach. I swallowed hard, my throat feeling tight. I stood up on shaky legs and walked toward the heavy oak doors of the Alpha’s private office. I took a deep breath, trying to compose myself, and knocked.

​"Come in," his voice called out. It was deep, steady, and completely devoid of the warmth I used to crave.

​I opened the door and stepped inside. Oliver was seated behind his massive desk, buried under a mountain of paperwork. He didn’t look up immediately, his brow furrowed in concentration as he scribbled notes onto a document. He looked composed, every bit the powerful Alpha King, but I could see the slight tension in his jaw. I knew he was hurting. I had broken us, and the weight of that guilt felt like a physical blow to my chest.

​"Shut the door and sit down, Aurora," he said coldly, still not looking at me.

​I did as I was told and moved into the room. I sat in the chair across from him, my hands trembling in my lap.

​Finally, he lifted his eyes. They were sharp, piercing sea-blue, and completely icy. "Your mistake almost cost this pack a million dollars, Aurora," he said, tossing a folder across the desk toward me. "The financial file you sent in last month wasn’t correct. The projections were off by a landslide."

​I grabbed the folder, my heart racing as I flipped through the pages. My eyes blurred as I realized he was right. I had been so distracted by the mission, by the hate, and by him, that I had let my work slip.

​"I... I’m so sorry, Alpha Oliver," I whispered, the apology feeling weak and useless. "I didn’t realize... I’ll fix it right away."

​"It shouldn’t have happened in the first place," he snapped, his voice tight. "We can’t afford mistakes like this."

​"I know. It won’t happen again. I promise."

​"See that it doesn’t," he said, already turning back to his documents, effectively dismissing me. "You can go."

​I stood up, but my feet felt glued to the floor. I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay in this room with him, even if he was angry. I wanted to crawl into his lap, bury my face in his neck, and tell him how much I missed him. I wanted to tell him that I loved him, that the world felt cold without him, and that I was drowning in a sea of secrets I couldn’t share.

​I stood there, staring at him, tracing the familiar line of his shoulders and the way his red hair fell over his forehead.

​He noticed me lingering and looked up again, his expression neutral. "Is there a problem, Aurora?"

​I shook my head quickly, my throat too tight to speak.

​"Then leave," he said. His tone wasn’t sharp or mean; it was just... different. It was the tone he used for a stranger or a pack member. I was used to his gentle, caring manner, his soft touches, and the way he would look at me like I was the only thing that mattered. Now, I was just an employee who had made an expensive mistake.

​Swallowing back my pain, I hurried back to my desk, my head spinning. I barely heard Elias ask if I was okay as I sat down and stared at the error-filled spreadsheet. My fingers hovered over the keys, but I couldn’t focus. The image of Oliver’s cold, blue eyes—so different from the warmth I used to find in them—was burned into my mind.

​Then, my phone buzzed.

​A message from Raymond lit up the screen.

​"How is my little princess doing?"

​I felt a surge of irritation mixed with a heat I didn’t want to acknowledge. My thumbs flew across the screen.

​"Don’t call me your princess," I snapped back.

​"But you are," he replied almost instantly. "My claimed, messy, beautiful little princess."

​I threw the phone face down on the desk and tried to lose myself in the numbers. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t handle Oliver’s icy silence in the other room while this monster whispered sweet, filthy things into my head.

​The phone buzzed again. And again.

​I ignored him for ten minutes, forcing myself to find the misplaced decimal points in the financial report. But the persistence of the vibration finally broke me. I snatched the phone up.

​"You sound angry," the text read. "What is wrong? Is the Alpha King giving you a hard day?"

​I glanced toward Oliver’s closed door. The man I loved was ten feet away, treating me like a stranger, while the man I was supposed to kill was checking up on me like he actually cared. The irony was a bitter pill to swallow.

​"He’s just doing his job," I typed, my heart aching. "I made a mistake. He’s being professional."

​"Really?" Raymond’s response was fast. "Is that why you have a big frown etched on your face right now?"

​"How do you know I’m frowning?" I asked, my pulse quickening.

​"I know everything about you, little bird. I know when you’re sad, I know when you’re lonely, and I know exactly how you look when you’re thinking about me instead of him."

​I looked around the office, a sudden chill washing over me. Was he watching? Was he somewhere in the packhouse?

​"Leave me alone, Raymond. I have work to do."

​"Work then," he sent back. "I’ll call you later."

​I tucked the phone away, my hands shaking so hard I had to grip the edge of the desk. I looked back at the spreadsheet, but the numbers weren’t adding up.

​I took a shaky breath and started typing, trying to fix the million-dollar mistake.

​By noon, my eyes were burning from staring at the screen. The office was quiet until the heavy click of Oliver’s door handle made me freeze. I kept my head down, pretending to be deeply focused on a column of tax codes.

​I heard his footsteps approaching my desk. He didn’t stop at Elias’s empty chair; he stopped right beside me. I could feel the heat of him—that familiar, comforting Alpha presence that used to be my safe harbor. Now, it felt like a spotlight on my crimes.

​"Are you finished with the corrections?" he asked.

​"Almost," I whispered, finally looking up.

​He was looking down at me, his blue eyes searching my face. Slowly, his gaze traveled to the bandage on my temple that was still peeling at the edges. Before I could pull away, his large hand reached out, his thumb gently brushing the skin just below the tape.

​I gasped, the touch sending a jolt of pure electricity through me. It was so different from Raymond’s rough, demanding grip—this was tender, filled with a history of love that hurt more than any bruise.

​The blue of his eyes seemed to soften, just for a heartbeat, as he took in my pale face. "And you look like you haven’t eaten a real meal in days."

​I tried to pull back, but my chair was trapped against the desk. "I’m fine, Alpha."

​"No, you’re not," he said firmly. He straightened up, his shadow looming over my workspace. "Save your progress and get your coat. We’re going out for lunch."

​I looked up at him, completely blindsided. "Lunch? But... I thought you were angry. I thought we were—"

​"It is an official lunch, Aurora. Nothing else," he interrupted, his tone returning to that professional, distant mask. "We need to discuss the upcoming quarter’s budget without the distractions of the office. It’s strictly business."

​"Oh," I whispered, a sharp pang of disappointment hitting me. "Okay. Yes."

​"Good. I’ll go grab my things," he said, turning on his heel and walking back toward his private office.

​I sat there for a moment, my heart doing a strange, painful somersault. Even if it was "strictly business," being near him, smelling his cedar-and-rain scent, was better than the cold silence of the last few days. I began to pack my bag, my fingers fumbling with the strap.

​Then, my phone buzzed on the desk.

​I glanced at the screen, expecting another teasing comment. Instead, my blood turned to ice.

​"I’m outside the packhouse gates. Come out now. I’m taking you for lunch."