Chapter 281
Aaron was seething with frustration.
+8 Pearls
In his current pitiful state, if he truly divorced, not a single she–wolf of beauty or worth would ever look at him twice,
Worse, Lucien Duskgrave–the ruthless Stormridge prince–had already made it known that any company allied with the Duskgrave name would never employ him.
Aaron was finished in Mooncrest.
No, he couldn’t divorce his wife now. Not yet.
Drawing a ragged breath, Aaron growled, “I’m not divorcing. Now get out of my sight.”
Maddox’s heart sank the moment he heard those words.
“What do you mean you’re not divorcing? We had a deal! I would win you that divorce in court, strip your mate of her wealth, and you’d pay me a million. How dare you go back on your word!”
Aaron’s temper, already frayed, snapped. He longed only to drag his heavy body home, collapse into bed, and force his wife to take him to a healer once his strength returned. But Maddox clung like a parasite, needling him endlessly.
Fury surged through him, his wolf thrashing inside his broken shell. His face twisted with rage as he roared?
“Are you deaf, cripple? Whether I divorce or not is none of your damned business!”
Maddox’s own life had long soured, leaving him bitter, twisted.
To be cursed and spat on in public by this bloated excuse of a male–this disgraced wolf who once strutted with pride–was more than he could stomach.
“It was you, you disgusting pig, who begged me to free you from your mate–bond. And now you blame me? Look at yourself! In a single moon cycle you’ve eaten yourself into ruin. Don’t tell me you haven’t been rutting around, catching the filth of rogues. That’s the only way a wolf ends up in your condition.”
The insult clawed deep into Aaron’s pride. With a snarl, he launched himself at Maddox.
Maddox, crippled but venomous, struck back.
A swollen, breathless wolf, and a legless cripple.
The clash was grotesque–yet for a moment, strangely even.
Onlookers–wolves and humans alike–formed a loose ring, amused murmurs rippling as they watched the once–respected. descend into savagery.
But neither had the stamina for true combat. Their blows grew sluggish; their lungs burned.
Moments later, both staggered apart, bruised and swollen, more pathetic than victorious.
Aaron spat blood, gave a bitter snort, and lumbered away, his heavy frame dragging.
Maddox collapsed into the dirt, struggling with every ounce of his ruined body to claw himself back onto his chair. Finally seated, he wheeled himself forward–only to be blocked by a shadow.
A woman.
Mo–a wolf Heavy–set, broad, with eyes glittering like molten amber.
Selene Ashford.
I heard you desire Riley Vale,” she purred, lips curling into a sly smile. “Do you want her? I can help you.”
3:35 PM
Chapter 281
Maddox narrowed his eyes, suspicion prickling his spine. “Who in the hells are you? And why would you help me?”
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Selene’s smirk deepened, her voice dripping with venomous intent. “My name is Selene Ashford. I’ll help you claim Riley… because I desire Lucien Duskgrave.”
Maddox’s gaze slid over her, and his mind flashed with a darkly gleeful image–Lucien, tormented by this wolf–woman’s obsession, his regal composure shattered before the eyes of every pack.
The thought filled Maddox with grim satisfaction. If Lucien dared cross him, then let him rot in ridicule, tangled in Selene’s
snare.
Yes. Let the Alpha Prince choke on his own downfall.
Time blurred. Half a year slipped by.
For six moons, Selene Ashford and Maddox schemed in secret, hungry to break Riley Vale. Yet the she–wolf remained hidden within the Duskgrave estate, veiled and protected. Their ploys could find no purchase.
Meanwhile, Riley’s health declined, her body growing frail. But her heart was steeled toward one thing alone–the completion of her embroidery.
The masterpiece was her escape, her salvation. Once finished, it would grant her passage to flee, to take Carmen and Mia with her beyond Mooncrest’s borders.
And at last, after half a year of tireless labor, the work was complete. Her heart trembled with pride and grief–but she told no one. Not Lucien. Not Matriarch Duskgrave.
They would see it only after she was gone.
Her hands lingered on the silk threads, fingers trembling. The embroidery was her legacy, her farewell to a life that had never embraced her.
She knew what she had to do next–reclaim the kidney that had been stolen from her. The urgency of it gnawed at her; her body weakened with each passing day. Yet even as that truth burned in her, the fire of survival flickered low.
Because she had discovered something far crueler than theft: a slow–working wolf–poison had been sown into her very veins. No healer could draw it out. No remedy could cleanse it.
Death was inevitable.
And with each moonrise, her desire to cling to life withered.
She would take back what was hers–the organ, the dignity–but she would not chain herself to false hope. The poison would claim her, whether in a week or in a year.
Better, then, to leave.
Better to go before the wolves of Stormridge mourned her too deeply. Before Lucien’s piercing eyes softened. Before those who truly loved her–Carmen, Mia, even Caelum in his silent way–were shattered by her decay.
She would give them distance. She would leave them memories instead of grief.
Now that her task was done, Riley turned to her final resolve,
The first place she would go–before her escape–was the asylum where her mother was caged.
Scarlett had conspired. Kael Vale had betrayed. But her mother…. her mother had abandoned her first.
For half a year, the woman had been locked away. Riley needed to see her. She needed to witness what became of a mother who had cast aside her blood.
Only when every wound–giver met their ruin could Riley rest in peace–even in death.
When Riley prepared to leave the manor, Caelum Knox, her appointed shadow, was unyielding. He would accompany her, whether she wished it or not.
Chapter 281
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The black–armored warrior ignited the car’s engine, steering through Mooncrest’s sprawling streets toward the asylum.
Outside, the world rushed by in a blur of lights and motion. Within, Riley sat silent, her gaze fixed beyond the glass. Her thoughts tangled–vengeance, sorrow, the bitter anticipation of facing her mother’s fallen form.
At the asylum, guided by white–clad healers, Riley Vale and Caelum Knox walked the narrow halls, each step echoing like a drumbeat toward fate.
