Back in werewolf territory, such impulsive actions could be excused, even expected, when fated mates first recognized each other. She had seen it before, the loss of control, the overwhelming pull, the way instinct overruled reason until they managed to regain themselves. But this... this wasn’t that. 𝘧𝓇ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝘣𝓃ℴ𝓋𝑒𝑙.𝑐𝘰𝑚

She didn’t feel any bond. No thread. No undeniable connection tying her to him.

Which meant he wasn’t her mate.

And more importantly, she had already believed that she was a human.

That alone changed everything.

In the human world, there was only one way to define what he had just done: sexual harassment.

So she had slapped him.

Not just because she wanted to, but because she had to.

She needed him to understand, clearly and without doubt, that she would not be someone he could simply overpower or disregard. She had to draw the line herself.

There had been a time when she wouldn’t have dared. Back then, under the suffocating control of her former parents and Nathan, she had been worn down and conditioned to yield, to stay quiet, to make herself smaller just to survive the isolation they forced on her. They had tried to shape her into someone meek, someone obedient.

But that was never who she truly was.

Beneath all of it, Ashley had always been like fire; she was unyielding, bold, and stubborn in the face of anything that tried to cage her. She acted on what she believed was right, no matter the cost.

And perhaps it was because she now stood in a different place, with a chance to start over again, that something in her had shifted. The restraints that once bound her were loosening, falling away piece by piece.

Even now, standing before Gideon, who looked so intimidating, dangerous, and impossible to ignore, she refused to bend.

Because if she were the kind of person who bowed so easily, she would have never risked everything. She would have never gambled her life just to break free from Maddison and Nathan’s grasp.

So she held her ground, lifting her chin as she met Gideon’s gaze without flinching. He didn’t look away either. For a moment, the air between them tightened into a silent standoff, neither willing to yield, neither even blinking. Beneath that stillness, their thoughts clashed sharply.

Gideon knew he was in the wrong.

That much was clear.

But knowing didn’t make it easier.

The sting of the slap lingered, not on his skin, but on his pride. As an Alpha, as a Lycan, he was not used to being challenged so directly, and the instinct to push back rose almost reflexively.

His wolf bristled beneath the surface, unwilling to retreat, unwilling to submit. And yet... reason held him in place.

He had already decided to apologize.

But now, with her defiance staring him down, the words felt heavier and harder to say.

Still, the facts remained unchanged. He had crossed the line first. He had been the one who lost control, the one who acted without thought. The reality of it grounded him, forcing his irritation to settle beneath his cold exterior.

They were practically strangers, barely even acquainted, and yet he had taken that step to force a kiss on her as if they are lovers meeting again after a long separation.

The fact that she hadn’t called for police and hadn’t escalated the situation further was already more than he could reasonably expect. It meant this could still be contained, kept from turning into something far more troublesome, something he would have no clean way of explaining.

Which left him with only one course of action.

No matter how much his pride resisted it.

"I’m... sorry."

The words came out tight, dragged through clenched teeth as though each syllable cost him more than it should. The anger coiled inside him wasn’t directed at her, not truly, but at himself, at the loss of control he had allowed, and at the wolf that had acted without thinking.

The slap had been a jolt, a sharp, undeniable reminder... and at the same time, a blow to his pride that left him caught between irritation and reluctant clarity.

He knew, without question, that he had already made a poor impression.

And the thought lingered longer than he expected. If they crossed paths again, would she see him as nothing more than a man who crossed boundaries without hesitation? The idea sat uneasily with him, an unfamiliar discomfort he couldn’t quite dismiss.

Yet none of it showed.

On the surface, Gideon remained composed, his expression as indifferent and imposing as ever, his presence still edged with quiet intensity even as he apologized. There was no softness to his tone, no visible shift to ease the tension he had created.

Which only made it harder for Ashley to believe him.

Her eyes stayed fixed on him, sharp and searching, as if trying to peel back the layers of that controlled exterior, trying to determine whether the apology held any sincerity... or if it was nothing more than a convenient way out of the situation.

"Is that all?" Ashley asked, one brow lifting slightly as her gaze remained fixed on him. He had apologized, she could sense a trace of sincerity beneath his rigid composure, though she couldn’t be entirely sure if it was genuine or merely convenient.

Either way, the words felt... insufficient. Not wrong, but not enough to settle what had just happened.

Still, she had no intention of pressing him further. Whatever this was, whoever he truly was, those questions lingered at the edge of her thoughts, unresolved. For now, suspicion was all she had, and without proof, she chose to hold it back, keeping her distance while watching him just a little more carefully than before.

Before either of them could say anything more, Gideon suddenly stilled. His nose twitched, his lips tightening as if he had caught something unseen. Then, without warning, he was gone.

Ashley barely had time to process it when the door to the ladies’ room opened again. Aunt Lavinia stepped inside, and the moment their eyes met, she stopped short, confusion written plainly across her face. She had only been gone a few minutes, fully expecting Ashley to still be inside one of the cubicles. Instead, there she was... perched on the sink.

"Young miss, you..." Aunt Lavinia began, but the words faltered as she tried to make sense of the scene. Ashley could barely walk. How had she even gotten there?

Ashley, for her part, was equally speechless.

Heat rushed to her face, her mind betraying her with the vivid memory of what had just happened. The kiss. The way it had stolen her breath. Her lashes fluttered as her cheeks flushed a deep, unmistakable red, and she found herself unable to meet Aunt Lavinia’s gaze, let alone explain.

But to Aunt Lavinia, it looked like nothing more than simple embarrassment. And so, she chose not to question it further.

Aunt Lavinia helped Ashley down from the sink with gentle care, steadying her as if nothing were out of the ordinary. Ashley said nothing, kept everything buried, while Aunt Lavinia, sensing the silence, chose not to press.

Whatever had happened, she treated it as the young lady’s private matter. And Ashley, for her part, forced herself to think of the encounter as nothing more than an unfortunate incident, something to be brushed off, like being bitten by a stray dog, unpleasant but not worth dwelling on.

Meanwhile, elsewhere, Gideon was left with his own unrest, his frustration turning inward as he argued with his wolf, the echo of his lapse in control refusing to settle.

Back in the ladies’ room, Aunt Lavinia quietly assisted Ashley into a cubicle, her hands efficient, her questions left unspoken despite the curiosity that lingered. Once Ashley had composed herself, they resumed their shopping as if nothing had happened.

Purchases continued, one after another, all charged to Apollo’s Black Dragon Card. Notifications flooded his phone in rapid succession, each alert marking another extravagant expense, but he merely glanced at them with a faint, indulgent smile.

Beside him, Ophelia’s mood darkened with every passing minute.

She had yet to spend a single cent.

Each time she tried to coax Apollo into buying her something, he brushed her off with calm indifference.

He would either say, "You already have that collection in your wardrobe." Or worse, "You haven’t even worn half the clothes you own. They end up packed away or given off, what’s the point of buying more?"

The words were reasonable. Too reasonable.

And that only made it worse.

Ophelia clenched her jaw, barely holding her composure as irritation simmered beneath her poised exterior. The more she thought about it, the clearer it became; this wasn’t about practicality.

Apollo simply didn’t want to buy anything for her.

Apollo wasn’t being stingy, far from it. If anything, he had been far too lenient for far too long. Ophelia had always bought whatever caught her eye, never holding back, never considering restraint.