Chapter 5 A Desperate Turn
861 Words
Just as the lead warrior's hand reached for the diamond-encrusted strap of my gown, a venerable elder, unable to stomach the spectacle any longer, stepped forward and put an end to the farce.
"Ethan, that's enough." Jessica, sensing the tide might turn, played her part perfectly. She softened her stance, adopting the air of a merciful saint. "I... I only wanted an apology from Miss Clara."
I looked at Ethan, but all I found in his eyes was a flicker of mocking triumph. I felt a pang of self-derision.
Ethan knew. He knew exactly what had happened.
He refused to check the cameras because the truth was irrelevant to him.
Shaming his own Luna in public was simply the price he was willing to pay to keep Jessica smiling. Nothing more.
Inside my mind, Lyra paced with a feral, restless rage.
I looked toward the horizon of my freedom—only twenty-two days left. I coaxed Lyra into silence, whispering that we only had to endure this one last time.
In front of the silent, staring crowd, I forced my spine to bend.
"I am sorry. I should not have targeted you. Please, forgive me."
Instead of being pacified, Ethan seemed incensed by my hollow, placid expression. He grabbed a freshly opened bottle of red wine and poured the entire contents over my head.
The cold liquid drenched me, stripping away the last of my dignity. I wiped the stinging droplets from my eyes and turned to leave.
"If you'll excuse me, I'm retiring for the night."
"Can you really stomach this much, Clara?"
Ethan let out a harsh, jagged laugh. "Clearly, you'll sink to any depth just to stay by my side."
I stumbled for a fraction of a second, then quickened my pace, leaving Ethan with nothing but the sight of my retreating back—battered, soaked, but stubbornly straight.
For an entire week after that Blood Oath celebration, I was the star of every vicious rumor in the pack.
The insults were relentless; people claimed I was worse than a mangy rogue, saying a woman as wicked as I would have been sacrificed to the Moon Goddess in the old days.
I didn't have the luxury of caring. I was busy packing. More than half of my belongings had already been spirited away to the Goldmane territories by the butler.
Ethan was too occupied consoling his "wronged" lover to bother me, and I found a strange, hollow peace in his absence.
I was sealing the final crate of my personal items when an unexpected notification chimed on my phone.
Our message history was a pathetic one-sided monologue. Every morning at eight, I had sent reminders about the weather, the next day's menu, or a "goodnight" message telling him to sleep early.
At the bottom of the chat box, a new message from Ethan appeared.
"?"
"Clara, you are playing hard to get now, are we?"
"I've told you before: none of your little games will work. Stop being so dramatic."
I realized then that it had been days since I'd sent a single "warm reminder."
"Come to Jessica's apartment and pick up the kids. She and I are going to the Moonlight Isles for a vacation."
A bitter twist touched my lips. I typed back a bloodless reply: "Understood."
Ethan's tone was always that of a master to a dog, a thousand times worse than how he treated the Omegas in the manor.
He had an army of warriors at his beck and call, yet he chose me for these errands simply because he relished the thrill of the insult.
"Fifteen days," I told myself. "After fifteen days, I will be free."
I drove to the apartment. Ethan climbed into the passenger seat, while Jessica sat in the back with the newborn and the twins. The car was filled with their lively, domestic chatter.
Throughout the drive, I remained a ghost, a silent observer of a "real" family.
I was used to it, yet that feeling of being trapped in a vacuum, utterly isolated, still made my chest ache.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and thought of Aiden, seven years and half a world away in the North.
"It's okay," I whispered to my heart. "I'll have a home of my own soon."
The car moved smoothly down the road until the air was shattered by the scream of tires. A massive, out-of-control truck barreled through the intersection at high speed, heading straight for our flank.
In that split second, time stretched into an eternity.
Only two thoughts raced through my mind:
''If Ethan dies, will his mother let me go? Will the Silvermoon Pack hunt Aiden down for revenge if anything happens to Ethan?
''If Ethan dies and they force me to raise his bastard as the heir, will I ever truly be free?'
Amidst the ear-splitting screech of brakes, I wrenched the steering wheel with every ounce of my strength. I forced the point of impact away from the passenger side and steered the collision directly into my own door.
There was a deafening roar of metal on metal.
And then, everything went black.
- Writer
