Chapter 8
Elara Vance POV:
Just as Ryker staggered back, Seraphina's voice, now laced with impatience, came from the main area. "Ryker?"
The sound snapped him out of his daze. He looked from my pale, resolute face to the locked door, and the agony in his eyes was swiftly replaced by primal panic. He couldn't let her find us like this.
He straightened up, putting a carefully constructed wall between us. "I'm coming," he called out, his voice miraculously steady.
He turned back to me, his expression a chaotic storm of anger, hurt, and something that looked terrifyingly like desperation. In that moment of utter helplessness, he resorted to the one tool he understood, the one an Alpha always uses to solve a problem that can't be solved by force.
Power.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wallet. From it, he extracted a sleek, black credit card. He grabbed my hand and forced the card into my palm. "The limit is nonexistent. The pin is your birthday."
I tried to drop it as if it were burning hot, but his fingers clamped down over mine, trapping the card against my skin.
"Don't ever let me see you in clothes like this again," he snarled, his eyes raking over my simple jeans and t-shirt with disdain. "Buy whatever you want. Gowns, jewelry, a car... I don't care."
He thought he could buy my forgiveness. He thought he could chain me to him with gold. It was the ultimate proof that he understood nothing about me, about us.
I started to laugh, a broken, hollow sound that filled the tiny space. "So this is what I'm worth to you?"
He flinched.
"I am not your pet, Ryker," I said, my voice shaking with a cold fury as I tried to wrench my hand free. "You can't buy me."
The handle rattled sharply. Once. Twice. On the third attempt, a heavy slam against the door—a shoulder, driven with werewolf strength—splintered the lock mechanism from the frame.
The door flew open.
Seraphina stood there, her chest rising and falling with controlled breaths. She had changed back into her dress, and the polite smile was gone, replaced by a look of glacial scrutiny. Her nostrils flared, taking in the suffocating, unmistakable scent that filled the tiny space. Her eyes, wide for only a fraction of a second, darted from Ryker's disheveled collar to the flush on my cheeks.
My heart stopped. I ripped my hand away from his. The black card clattered to the carpeted floor.
Ryker dropped his arm instantly, turning to face her. His expression was a mask of cool composure, but the slight tremor in his hands gave him away.
"What are you two doing?" Seraphina's voice was dangerously calm.
Ryker found his lie instantly, one that was horribly, partially true. "Elara is emotional about the wedding. She's happy for me, but it's also reminding her of losing her father. I was comforting her. Offering some compensation for her loss."
He was using my dead father as a shield again.
"Compensation?" Seraphina's gaze flickered to the card on the floor. "With an unlimited credit line? You are very generous to your subordinates, Ryker." The word "subordinates" was a deliberate insult.
I remained silent. Anything I said would only make it worse.
"Orion gave his life for this pack," Ryker said, his voice even. "This is nothing. I want his daughter to have the best."
Seraphina didn't argue, but her eyes—cold and calculating—betrayed the truth. The cloying perfume of an Omega's Heat mixed with the Alpha's musk was undeniable, a private, primal truth screamed into the air. But Seraphina was a Volkov, and the Volkovs did not wage wars in public. A public accusation, here in a human boutique, would humiliate her far more than it would punish him. This was a blade to be wielded in private, with the full weight of the Pack and her family behind it. The polite mask of the future Luna slid back into place, more terrifying than any rage.
She bent down, her movements fluid and graceful, and picked up the card. She held it out to me, her smile returning, brighter and sharper than before. "Well then, you should accept it, Elara. It wouldn't do to refuse the Alpha's... care."
The way she said "care" turned the word into an accusation.
I stared at the card. It felt as heavy as an anchor. To refuse it now would be a public defiance of both my Alpha and my future Luna. I had no choice.
My hand trembled as I took it from her.
Seraphina's smile was victorious. She tucked her arm through Ryker's. "Good. Now, we should be going. I'm quite satisfied with the gown. We'll take that one."
She led him away like a prize she had won, leaving me standing alone in the fitting room, the cold, humiliating plastic burning a hole in my palm.
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