Chapter 2
Chapter 2
The phone barely rang once before Damien's voice thundered through the speaker.
"Celeste fucking Moonborn." His tone was deadly calm. "Did you just call me because you're bored?"
At the Blackwood Industries headquarters, every Alpha in the boardroom froze. Nobody had ever heard Damien Blackwood speak with such rage.
"I spent eight years watching you pine after that worthless excuse of an Alpha. Eight years of you telling me we were 'just friends' while you played house with him. And now you call me?"
Celeste's chest tightened. She'd forgotten how raw his voice could sound when he was truly angry.
"You think I'm some backup plan you can activate when your first choice fails?"
"Damien, I—"
"Shut up." The words cracked like a whip. "I moved three states away because of you. I haven't touched any she-wolf in four years because of you. And you call me like I'm some fucking consolation prize?"
The silence stretched between them, heavy with years of rejection and pain.
"One month," he finally said. "Clean up your mess. After that, I'm coming to collect what you threw away. And this time, little wolf, you don't get to break me again."
The line went dead.
Later that night, she moved through Marcus's house like a ghost, methodically erasing every trace of their failed bond. The rejection papers were safely locked in the safe, along with her resignation letter. She'd burned their mating ceremony photos, watching as the flames consumed her younger, hopeful face.
The front door slammed shut downstairs, and she heard Marcus's heavy footsteps on the stairs.
"Celeste?" His voice echoed through the house. "What's that smell?"
She quickly closed the fireplace screen and turned to face him as he entered the study. His shirt was wrinkled, his hair mussed, and he smelled like Raven's perfume.
"Just burning some old documents," she said, keeping her voice steady.
His eyes narrowed as he spotted the ash on the hearth. "What kind of documents?"
"Financial records. Tax forms from years ago. Things we don't need anymore."
Marcus stepped closer, his gaze suspicious. But before he could interrogate her further, a sound from upstairs made them both freeze.
"Marcus! Help me!"
Raven's scream pierced the night. Marcus abandoned Celeste instantly, racing toward the sound.
Celeste followed, dread pooling in her stomach.
She found them in the nursery—the room they'd prepared for their lost pup. Raven was on the floor, surrounded by shattered wood and torn fabric. The crib Celeste had lovingly assembled was destroyed, the mobile she'd hand-painted scattered in pieces.
"I'm so sorry," Raven sobbed, reaching for Marcus. "I came to see the nursery because I wanted to help you both heal from your loss. But when I saw all these baby things... I just broke down."
She gestured to the destruction around her. "I got so emotional thinking about your poor dead pup that I accidentally knocked everything over. I tried to catch the crib but it all just... fell apart."
Marcus knelt beside her, pulling her into his arms. "It's okay. You were just trying to help."
Celeste stared at the wreckage. The crib had taken her weeks to build by hand. The mobile had been painted with tiny wolves and moons, each one a prayer for their unborn child. The rocking chair had been her grandmother's, passed down through generations.
All of it was destroyed.
"I feel so terrible," Raven continued, her tears soaking into Marcus's shirt. "Maybe... maybe it's better this way? You can start fresh now. Have a real nursery for your future pups."
The implication was clear. Future pups with her, not Celeste.
Marcus's eyes hardened as he looked at his mate. "She's right. This room has just been a shrine to grief. It's not healthy."
Celeste's voice came out as a whisper. "That was our pup's room."
"Our pup is dead!" he roared. "This junk is just a reminder of failure. Get rid of it. All of it. Tonight."
"I said clean it up, Celeste!" Marcus snapped when she didn't move. "All of it! I want every piece of this garbage out of my house by tomorrow morning!"