Audrey's POV
I couldn't help the small laugh that slipped from my lips—a bitter, hollow sound. I felt sorry for the foolish she-wolf I used to be.
The girl who once thought Rowan Blackthorne was her mate.
I shifted my chair to turn away when his voice rumbled behind me.
"Audrey."
I stopped.
Rowan stepped forward—imposing, broad-shouldered, radiating the Alpha confidence that once made my wolf melt. Now it only grated on my nerves. He blocked my path like he still had some right to stand before me.
I lifted my gaze to him, letting him see nothing in my eyes but cold, empty moonlight.
"I know you regret it," he said, voice dripping with the arrogance of a wolf born with too much rank and too little sense. "You don't have to keep making a scene. What I told you yesterday still stands—move back into the villa. Don't stay in that rundown shed."
That was it.
The last shred of whatever feeling I might have had for him crumbled to ash.
That "rundown shed" was my parents' home—my territory. My roots. My sanctuary.
"And if I refuse?" I asked, voice steady as a winter wind.
His brows pulled tight, irritation flashing in his eyes. He honestly believed he was being generous.
He inhaled slowly, like he was offering me another great concession.
"Fine. If you won't move in, I'll come to your place twice a week."
I said nothing.
So he raised the offer.
"Three days. That's my final offer."
His tone made it clear he thought he was doing me a favor.
That I should fall to my knees, grateful.
As if I should wait at the door of my own home like some neglected she-wolf hoping for scraps of his attention.
I nearly laughed at the absurdity.
He wanted both homes? Me and Lisa in rotation? Did he truly think of himself as a king wolf tending to his harem?
Too bad for him—I wasn't one of his concubines.
My voice cut through the air like claws.
"Rowan, your arrogance is sickening. We're getting divorced. Go spend your precious time with Lisa."
Let him stay tangled with Lisa and Fen. Let that be his little pack of lies.
"Rowan..." A soft, trembling voice drifted from behind him.
Lisa. Of course.
She stepped out, eyes glossy and trembling like a fragile doe. Her pallor alone was a calculated plea.
Rowan spun instantly. "Lisa? Why did you come out? I told you to wait in the house."
I smirked faintly, then turned away. I didn't waste another breath on them.
As soon as I left, Lisa dropped the act of fear, her body relaxing.
She had been terrified that I might win Rowan back. That's why she had slunk outside to check—fearing the bond between Rowan and me still meant something.
Foolish.
She wrapped her arms around Rowan's neck like a needy pup.
"Rowan… now that your mother knows I'm back, will she come after me?"
His jaw tightened. "Don't worry. I'll protect you."
She kissed his cheek, whining softly. "It's all Audrey's fault. If she hadn't tattled, your mother wouldn't have found out. She probably still wants you back. She's just playing games to make you give in first!"
I didn't need to see Rowan's face to know the expression he made—annoyed, arrogant, dismissive.
"She can dream," he growled.
Lisa smiled quietly. She knew he only ever used me.
And she was right.
I steered my chair slowly toward the front gate, my thoughts drifting.
Humiliating Rowan and Lisa had felt good—satisfyingly good—but the satisfaction faded too quickly.
It wasn't enough.
Not compared to the wounds Rowan carved into me.
"Audrey!"
A clear, bright voice startled me. I turned and saw Bonnie running over, smiling wide.
"Bonnie? What are you doing here?" I asked.
"I live here with Dad!" she chirped.
Right. This whole crescent-shaped territory was filled with old-blood, high-rank wolves.
Families like the Waynes and the Blackthornes ruled this part of the city.
Before I could respond, a tall, refined figure approached—black slacks, white shirt, sleeves rolled back just enough to show strong forearms.
A belt cinched his lean waist.
He moved with that quiet confidence only a wolf of high rank—or a man used to command—could possess.
Dorian Wayne.
He stopped before me, his voice smooth. "Looking for Rowan?"
I stiffened. I hated how close to the truth his guess was.
He arched a brow. "Didn't go well, did it?"
I almost choked on frustration.
Did he enjoy watching Rowan push me around?
I was about to leave when Bonnie suddenly piped up.
"Audrey, do you know how to make crafts?"
I blinked. "A little. Why?"
Her expression fell, ears drooping in a way only a young pup's could.
"The teacher said we have to make a craft with our mom… but I don't have a mom."
The words hit like a physical blow.
Bonnie stared at the ground, small, pitiful, and far too quiet.
My heart tightened.
My gaze flicked to Dorian, silently accusing. How could a father not know about this?
He lifted his hands slightly, voice calm. "She didn't tell me."
Bonnie looked up again, eyes full of hope. "Audrey… will you help me?"
I didn't even think before answering. "Of course."
Ten minutes later, I was inside Wayne Villa—a silent, spacious place, almost too empty. No staff bustling around. Just Dorian and his daughter.
Dorian handed me a glass of water himself. He must have noticed my surprise because he spoke first.
"I dismissed the staff. I'm searching for someone new to help with Bonnie."
I remembered how often Bonnie got sick. Probably from outside triggers.
Common for pups with rare sensitivities.
I didn't pry. I simply nodded and sipped the water.
Bonnie soon returned with scissors and brightly colored paper. She spread them across the table, eyes shining.
"Audrey, we have to make a picture with these!"
Simple enough. I smiled. "Alright. I'll cut the pieces, and you glue them on. Deal?"
"Deal!" She beamed.
I picked up the scissors, then I noticed Dorian watching me.
I paused. "Is something wrong?"
Caught staring, he didn't look away. Instead, a faint smile formed, subtle but striking.
"Nothing's wrong," he said softly. "I was just thinking…"
He held my gaze a moment longer than expected.
"Ms. Willow… you're very patient with pups."