bChapter /bb139 /b

    ra’s POV

    つま

    “Kimberly, what the hell

    are

    you doing?” I rubbed my aching temples, fighting the exhaustion that clung to me like a second skin. Betrayal. It was a bitter pill to swallow, and I felt like it was choking me.

    Kimberly didn’t look back. Instead, she shoved me into a car with more force than necessary and stammed the door. The driver nced at us, unsure of

    the shift in the air. “Where to?” he asked, his voice tentative.

    Kimberly’s lips curled into a sharp smile. “Proving a point,” she hissed, turning toward me. “First stop: we’re fixing you up. Hair, clothesb, /bthe whole damn package.” She raised a brow, “Then we’re heading to a nightclub. Thorne and Lance will be there. It’s the perfect setup.”

    I wanted to scream at her, to tell her we weren’t even together, that Thorne and I weren’t some tragic couple with a broken heart to nurse. But instead, I

    bit my lip and settled into my seat, letting the hum of the car lull me into silence. I couldn’t even summon the energy to argue.

    The city lights blurred past, a neon mess, as my mind wandered. What exactly was she trying to show me tonight? What was she hoping to prove? If I saw him—if I saw anything that told me Kimberly was right–what then? Was I ready to cut thest thread of connection to Thorne? The thought made me

    sick.

    We pulled into a sleek, upscale salon that screamed wealth, and Kimberly’s presence made it clear that we were the night’s VIPs. The owner cleared bthe /bfloor at hermand, and soon, it was just the stylists and us, a quiet, sterile world where I was about to be transformed.

    I stood under the hot shower, letting the steam clear my mind. Then, I was seated before a mirror, the reflection of myself almost foreign, as two stylists attacked my hair and a makeup artist tookmand of my face. They worked in silence, their hands steady but swift, as they patched up the mess of

    bruises and wounds withyers of foundation.

    “Rx,” the stylist muttered as he pulled my hair into waves, darker roots fading into a cool, silvery hue. “You’re going to look incredible.”

    I wanted to roll my eyes but didn’t have the energy. Instead, I let them do their thing as Kimberly sat, flipping through a brochure with a glint of

    something dangerous in her eyes.

    the the

    When they finally finished, they ushered me into the dressing room. The soft rustling of fabric echoed through the silence as I pulled on the silver dress Kimberly had chosen. The bodycon fit hugged my every curve, the deep neckline daring, the side slit offering a glimpse of leg. My hair cascaded down my back in perfect waves, the light catching the silver strands like strands of moonlight.

    I stepped out of the room and every eye in the room turned to me. Kimberly let out a breathless exmation. “Holy fuck.”

    Her gaze ran over me, like she was seeing a stranger. “Look at you! You’re glowing.”

    I tugged at the hem of my dress with a bitter smile. “Not exactly,” I muttered. “Not exactly glowing.”

    Back at Direstone Pack, I was invisible, blending into the background while Mi stole the spotlight. Thorne didn’t even notice me until we were forced to be bonded. And now, here I was, draped in designer clothes, but it felt hollow. There was no ceremony. No celebration of our bond. Only the Diaz, who had dropped me at Thorne’s doorstep without a word.

    Kimberly, however, didn’t seem to hear me. She was too busy gushing over me, her eyes wide in disbelief. “But what about the Luna Ceremony?” she pressed, her voice trembling with excitement. “You must’ve had that moment, rightb?/bb” /b

    I shook my head, bitterughter escaping me. “We didn’t have a ceremony. We didn’t even have a proper night together. He was too busy with Mi.”

    Her face twisted with disbelief. “That fucking bastardi,/ii” /ishe hissed, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the door. “Let’s go. You need to see what he’s really like. He needs to see what he’s missing out on.”

    The car ride to the nightclub was loud and buzzing with anticipation, but all I could think about was the empty space Thorne had left inside bme/b.

    When we reached the club, I was struck by the line of girls outside–no guys in sight.

    “That’s Lance,” Kimberly yelled over the noise as she yanked me forward, bypassing the line and shing ba /bbgrin /bbto /bbthe /bbbouncers/bb. /bb“/bbHe /bbbooked /bbthis /bbce /b

    for seven days straight, no guys allowed. It’s just a bunch of girls here to impress the King and his new friend.”

    I didn’t have time to process her words before we were inside. The club was alive, thick with the pulse of music, shing lights reflecting boff /bevery surface. The bass reverberated in my chest, making my heart skip a beat.

    Kimberly tugged me forward, pointing through the crowd. I followed her finger, and there he was–Thorne, on stage with a stripper. My stomach twisted, and I couldn’t breathe. His hands were all over her, and the crowd roared with excitement.

    But this… this wasn’t the Thorne I knew. This wasn’t the man who used to watch me like I was the only person in the world. He was lost, a shadow of the Alpha I had once trusted.

    I barely recognized him. I had to look away.

    Then, something worse happened. Lance, grinning like a devil, grabbed a microphone. “Shut the music,” he ordered.

    The music died instantly, the crowd quieting.

    Lance’s voice boomed over the speakers. “So, Thorne, how’s the girl I picked for youb?/b”

    Thorne barely looked up from his drink, his expression unreadable. “She’s fine.”

    The stripper beamed at him, like she was basking in a dream.

    And just like that, the air around me thickened.

    Lance grinned, “What if I told you she used to be a member of your pack?”

    Thorne frowned, looking at the stripper, then back at Lance. “Direstone Pack?”

    “Yep. Expelled for stealing.” Lance snapped ihis /ifingers, tossing something onto the table. It was a gun.

    The crowd gasped in unison.

    “M–My iKing/i…” the stripper stammered, fear seeping into her voice. “Please, you’re joking, right?”

    But Lance was dead serious. “Why would I joke with trash like you?” He turned to Thorne. “Shoot her, Thorne. Prove your resolve.”

    A cold sweat broke out across my skin. No. He wouldn’t.

    I couldn’t bear ito /iwatch this. Not thisi. /i

    But then Thorne picked up the gun. My heart stopped.

    “NO!” I shouted, my voice breaking.

    But Thorne didn’t hesitate. He raised the gun and pointed it at the girl. And just when I thought I couldn’t take any more…

    He pulled the trigger.

    bAD /b

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