Chapter 57
A story…
A good story that will impress the fuck out of Liam Beckett.
I’ve been searching the entire day.
I don’t know what I’m expecting when I click on the article–maybe another recycled political piece about the Alpha King’s miraculous return from the dead. Another puff piece written by some bootlicking journo trying to crawl up the hierarchy without getting their throat slit along the way.
What I don’t expect-
What punches me right in the fucking chest-
Is him.
Enoch.
The grainy photo loads slow as hell, pixel by pixel, like the universe is dragging out the torture on purpose.
I feel it before I even see him-
The bone–deep ache that hasn’t fucking left me since the night he walked out of that shitty motel room and never came
back.
My heart jackknifes against my ribs.
No.
No, no, no.
My lungs start to shrink. Everything inside me winds tight, every nerve ending sparking like live wires under my skin.
Then the image sharpens-
And there he is.
Tall. Cold. Alive.
He stands in front of a towering marble building yet only his back is shown, the crowd around him blurred into nothing. The black suit clings to him like it was sewn onto his body–sharp, severe lines that fit him too perfectly. His hair is shorter now, slicked back like he’s some kind of untouchable royalty. The scar across his temple is barely visible, just a pale ghost against his tan skin.
I wanna see his eyes-
God, his eyes.
I hope they haven’t changed at all.
The same bottomless forest pits that used to watch me as if was something worth saving–something his.
But his back is onto the camera. No one has ever photographed the Alpha King, only glimpses of him.
Except now they’re dead behind the surface. Hollow. Like whatever pieces of him I managed to drag back from the brink—
1/5
Chapter 57
He buried them along with me
4 damp my hand over my mouth, forcing down the sol clawing up my throat.
11’e alive
He’s fucking alive.
Every breath I’ve taken in the past six months feels like a sick joke–like I’ve been grieving a ghost while the bastard’s been out here playing dress–up as the untouchable Alpha King
1 lean forward, hands shaking as 1 scroll down-
And that’s when I see her.
The woman on his arm.
Silver hair spilling down her back. Blood–red lipstick. Expensive–ass designer dress clinging to her curves.
W–who is this?
My stomach drops straight through the fucking floor.
Her hand is wrapped around his forearm though she belongs there–as if she’s earned the right to touch him. The caption below the image makes my blood freeze in my veins.
Alpha King Enoch Blackwell and a mysterious Lady attend the annual Diplomatic Summit.
Sources speculate a union between the Lycan throne and the Grimaldi bloodline…
Union.
Fiancée.
I can’t fucking breathe.
My vision tunnels in–narrowing down to just their intertwined arms, the smirk painted on her face, the way his hand is curled into a loose fist by his side. Like he wants to rip her touch off his skin but can’t.
Or won’t.
The room tilts sideways.
No.
He wouldn’t-
He couldn’t-
My heart splinters clean down the middle, the cracks spiderwebbing out to every inch of my chest.
All the whispered promises.
All the nights his breath warmed the back of my neck.
All the ways he looked at me like I was the only fucking thing holding him together-
It was all a lie.
+45
015
10:24 Tue, 25 Mar
Chapter 57
*96%
I slap the laptop shut so hard the keys rattle. My pulse hammers in my ears, drowning out the distant chatter of the office.
I feel like I’m going to be sick.
I need to get the fuck out of here.
1 bolt from my desk, shoving past Zoe’s voice calling my name. My legs carry me straight to the bathroom without conscious thought. My shoulder smashes into the stall door, locking it behind me just as the first sob tears out of my throat.
I clutch the sink with both hands, trying to force oxygen into my lungs.
He’s alive.
He’s alive.
He’s fucking alive.
Every inch of me shakes. My nails bite into the porcelain.
I spent months clawing my way out of the wreckage he left behind–telling myself he was dead, that he didn’t have a choice.
That he’d only left me because he had to.
I was such a fucking idiot.
“You promised,” I whisper to no one, my voice cracking.
His words flicker through my head like a haunting.
“I’ll come back for you.”
“I’ll always protect you.”
“You’re mine, little wolf.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, biting down on the inside of my cheek so hard I taste blood.
Fuck him.
Fuck every single lie that ever came out of his mouth.
He left me.
He forgot me.
And now he’s standing next to her–the same silver–haired bitch who spent half her life trying to make mine a living hell.
A low, bitter laugh bubbles up from somewhere deep inside me.
Of course it’s Seraphina.
Because the universe isn’t just cruel–it’s fucking poetic.
I drag in one shaky breath after another, staring at my reflection in the cracked mirror. My eyes are bloodshot, cheeks blotchy.
Pathetic.
He replaced me.
Chapter 57
Now I’ll replace him.
The rage hits me so fast and hard it almost knocks me off my feet.
If he’s the Alpha King …
Then that makes him the story.
And I’m going to rip his entire fucking empire apart piece by piece–until there’s nothing left but ash and ruin.
I swipe the tears off my face, straightening my spine.
No more crying.
No more waiting.
I storm out of the stall, back through the office, straight to Liam’s office without even wiping the smudged mascara from under my eyes.
His brows lift when I slam the stack of papers onto his desk.
“Here’s your pitch.”
He glances down at the headline:
The Ghost King–What the Council Doesn’t Want You to Know About the Alpha King’s Return.
His mouth twitches.
“Subtle.”
“Do you want subtle or do you want the truth?” I snap.
His cold blue eyes lock onto mine, scanning my face. Whatever he sees there makes the smirk slip off his mouth.
“Where’d you learn how to dig like this?”
I lean forward, both palms flat on his desk.
“I’ve been looking for the truth my whole life.”
For the first time since I’ve met him, Liam has no snarky comeback.
He flips through the first few pages, then tosses the entire draft onto the desk between us.
“You want the story?” he says, voice low.
“I want the fucking truth.”
A long pause stretches out.
Then he nods once.
“You just got your first byline, Sinclair.”
I walk out of that office with my head high and my hands still shaking.
It doesn’t matter if he left me.
96%
445
57
Chapter 67
It doesn’t matter if he’s fucking engaged to someone else.
I’ll make him see me again.
Even if I have to set the whole fucking kingdom on fire to do it.
I glance back at the computer screen one last time.
His face stares back at me distant and cold.
“You can’t hide from me, Enoch”
I touch the necklace under my shirt—the one he gave me the night he disappeared. The chain burns hot against my palm, it knows the war I’m about to start.
“Not anymore.”
