3

##Chapter 3

The Manhattan skyline glittered like gold outside the window, but my heart was nothing but ice.

The stack of papers on the table mocked me—Divorce Agreement. Signed. Final.

“Elijah,” I whispered, sliding the document back to him, “leave the assets blank. He can keep everything. I just want my name back.”

The lawyer’s brows furrowed. “Clara… you’ll walk away with nothing.”

“Better nothing than chains.” My voice was hoarse, but resolute.

He hesitated, then nodded. “I’ll file this immediately. But be careful. Adrian doesn’t lose quietly.”

He didn’t know the half of it.

When I returned to the packhouse that night, Adrian was waiting in the living room, casual in his silk shirt, swirling wine in his glass. The scent of expensive cologne mixed with something fouler—Jennifer’s perfume still clinging to him.

“Where were you?” he asked, smiling as though nothing was broken. “I thought we’d have a quiet night. Maybe watch a film together.”

I forced my lips into a bitter curve. “I just needed air.”

He rose, closing the distance, draping an arm around my shoulders. His Alpha energy pressed into me, suffocating, possessive. “You’ve been restless, Clara. Tell me… did I do something to upset you?”

I met his golden eyes and asked softly, “Adrian… have you ever betrayed me?”

His smile never wavered. “Of course not. You’re my Luna. My only one.”

Lie after lie.

I almost laughed, except it felt more like a sob tearing up my throat.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. Adrian’s gaze flicked to it instantly, sharp and suspicious.

I pulled it away before he could snatch it. “Company message. Nothing important.”

But my blood went cold when I saw the sender—Jennifer. A video attachment.

I didn’t need to watch. I already knew.

That night, when he kissed me goodnight and whispered promises of Paris and diamonds, I pressed the folder of divorce papers to his chest.

His mask cracked.

“Divorce?” His voice dropped, low and lethal.

“Yes.” My tone cut like silver. “You and I are done.”

Wine spilled as he slammed his glass onto the table, the red liquid bleeding like blood across the polished wood. “No. You don’t leave me, Clara. Ever.”

His aura flared, raw Alpha dominance crashing over me like a storm. My wolf whimpered inside, spine bowing to his command.

But I lifted my chin. “Watch me.”

I turned toward the door.

“Clara!” His voice roared like thunder, shaking the glass in the windows. “If you walk out that door, I’ll shut down this city. Every airport, every road, every pack under my command—locked. You won’t get a single step away from me.”

My blood froze.

—

By morning, his threat had become reality.

Television news blared: “Unprecedented lockdown due to Alpha’s orders. Blackridge Pack enforces full control over Manhattan borders for security concerns.”

Security concerns. My prison.

I stood in my room, curtains drawn, hands trembling. Adrian had turned New York into a cage.

My phone buzzed again. Elijah’s number.

“Clara,” his voice was urgent, “you must act fast. He’s using his Pack influence to intercept every legal channel. If you want out, we need to move underground.”

“Underground?”

“A new identity. A new passport. You’ll vanish. But once you go through with this, you can’t come back. You’ll be… gone.”

Gone. The word lodged in my throat.

But staying meant dying slowly in Adrian’s gilded cage.

“Do it,” I whispered. “Make me disappear.”

—

That night, I stuffed essentials into a suitcase, heart hammering so hard I thought it would break through my ribs.

I was almost at the door when headlights flared outside.

Engines. Multiple.

My blood turned to ice.

Through the blinds, I saw them—sleek black cars lining the driveway, engines humming like predators waiting to strike. Adrian’s men.

My wolf howled inside, claws scraping my skin. Run. Run now.

The doorbell rang, sharp and final.

“Luna,” a voice called from outside. Smooth. Mocking. “The Alpha sent us. He says you’re not going anywhere.”

My suitcase slipped from my fingers.

Trapped.

Again.