Damien’s warning to Julian echoed in the silent room, a promise of violence that sent a shiver down my spine. He hung up the phone and tossed it onto the bed, his golden eyes burning with a possessive fire that was both terrifying and, to my shame, strangely thrilling. The Alpha had claimed his territory, and I was squarely in the middle of it.
That night, I made a decision. I couldn't move forward, couldn't even begin to process this insane new reality, while the ghosts of my past life still lingered. My apartment, filled with five years of memories and shared belongings, was a chain I needed to break.
The next morning, I found Damien in his study.
“I need to go back to my apartment,” I said, my voice firm. “I need to get my things. My clothes, my scripts, my personal belongings. I want a clean break.”
He looked up from his paperwork, his expression unreadable. “A dangerous request. Julian will likely be watching the place.”
“I don’t care,” I said, my resolve hardening. “I’m not going to be scared into hiding. Those are my things. He has no right to them.”
A slow, approving smile touched his lips. “Good. Never let them think you are afraid.” He stood up, his presence filling the room. “I will take you. We’ll go this afternoon.”
His immediate, unquestioning support caught me off guard. There was no argument, no negotiation. I had stated a need, and he was fulfilling it. It was a stark contrast to Julian, who would have debated and delayed any request that inconvenienced him.
Later that day, as we were about to leave, Damien’s phone rang. It was another call from the pack. He listened, his jaw tightening, his eyes flashing with annoyance.
“The elders are demanding an immediate council,” he said after he hung up, his voice tight with controlled fury. “It seems your existence is causing more political disruption than I anticipated. I have to go.”
My heart sank. “What about my apartment?”
“You are still going,” he said, his gaze unwavering. He turned to the silent bodyguard who had driven me to the cafe. “Marcus will escort you. He will wait outside the building. No one will get past him.” He then looked back at me and held out a tiny, flesh-colored object. It was a state-of-the-art wireless earpiece.
“Put this in,” he commanded. “It’s a direct, open line to me. I will hear everything. If you are in any trouble, you say the word, and I will be there in minutes. Understood?”
“Understood,” I whispered, my fingers trembling as I fitted the device into my ear. It was a leash, but it was also a lifeline.
My old apartment building looked painfully familiar. Marcus, a mountain of a man in a black suit, stood guard by the entrance, his presence deterring any curious neighbors. The doorman, a kind man named George, told me Julian had been by several times, harassing him for information. It only strengthened my resolve.
The apartment itself felt cold and foreign. It was filled with my things, but it no longer felt like my home. I worked quickly, packing my clothes and personal effects into boxes, my movements efficient and detached. I was just grabbing a stack of my script notes from the desk when my old landline phone rang. I knew who it was. I ignored it.
A few moments later, there was a loud, insistent pounding on the door.
“Claire! I know you’re in there! Open this door right now!”
It was Julian. His voice was muffled but filled with a petulant rage. I stood frozen, my heart hammering against my ribs.
“He can’t get in,” I whispered, more to myself than to the silent listener in my ear. A mountain like Marcus was standing guard downstairs.
The pounding stopped. I heard the jingle of keys, and a second later, the lock clicked. My blood ran cold. Of course. He still had a key.
The door swung open, and he stood there, his face a mask of fury. But a flicker of hope went through me. Marcus would have heard that. He would be on his way up.
Julian saw the look on my face and laughed, a low, mocking sound as he stepped inside and kicked the door shut behind him. “Don’t bother looking for your new watchdog. Marcus won’t lay a hand on the Alpha’s brother. Pack rules. You see, in here, you’re all alone with me.”
The hope died, replaced by a chilling dread. He was right. I was trapped.
“There you are,” he said, his voice deceptively soft now. “Why didn't you answer my calls? Or the door? I was worried.”
“You weren’t worried, you were inconvenienced,” I shot back, my voice steady despite the tremor in my hands. I turned my back on him and continued packing my box. “Now get out of my apartment.”
“Our apartment,” he corrected, his voice hardening. “And don’t you dare turn your back on me.” He strode into the room and grabbed my arm, spinning me around to face him. “Who was on the phone last night, Claire? Who are you with? Don’t lie to me.”
I wrenched my arm from his grasp. “My life is none of your business anymore.”
“None of my business?” he laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. “After five years, it’s all of my business! I own this apartment, I own that bed, and I thought I owned you! Who is he? Did you find some rich asshole to replace me? I can’t believe you’d be so cheap.”
“You thought you owned me?” The words were so arrogant, so utterly delusional, that my fear was momentarily replaced by a white-hot rage. “You never owned me. You just rented my time with lies. And for the record, leaving you is the best thing I've ever done for my self-respect."
His face darkened. “You bitch.” He took a threatening step forward, grabbing a half-packed box of books and throwing it against the wall. The sound of spines breaking and pages tearing filled the room. “You have nothing without me! You’re a broke screenwriter living in my world!”
“This was never your world, Julian!” I screamed back, gesturing wildly around the room. “This was the world I built while you were off screwing Tiffany, or Serafina, or God knows who else! This was the home I made while you were disappearing for days on end, coming back smelling like dirt and rage! I thought you were just a cheater. I never realized you were a monster, too.”
“You know nothing,” he snarled, his eyes flashing with that feral, golden light. His rage was making him careless. “You need to learn some respect, Claire. You were always so difficult, so emotional. Why can’t you be more like Serafina? She understands how our world works. She’s one of us. She’s worthy of being a Blackwood.”
He gestured around the room again, at the life I had built, his lip curling in a sneer.
“She’s a true she-wolf. You? You’re just a human. You should be grateful I even gave you the time of day. Don’t be so shameless.”