Scott had been pacing the length of Chloe room for the better part of an hour, and Chloe was fairly certain he was going to wear a hole clean through the expensive rug.
"The nerve of her," he snarled, spinning on his heel to march the other way. "You needed to hear how she spoke to me in front of everyone? ’You’re not my problem, Scott.’ As if she’s someone now. As if putting a crown on her head suddenly makes her better than me."
Chloe said nothing. She sat in bed, the blanket pulled over her naked chest, watching him stomp back and forth with a flat, unreadable expression.
They had just finished having sex, and his attention was barely there, and now he was back to Kira’s matter again.
"She thinks she’s untouchable because she’s got that overgrown mutt of a Lycan king standing behind her," Scott went. "Well, she’s not. I swear on the moon, Chloe, I’ll kill him. I’ll rip that smug king apart with my bare hands, and then we’ll see how special little Kira feels."
That was the ninth time he’d threatened to murder the Lycan King, which Chloe had been counting.
"You know," she said slowly, "for a man who claims not to care about her, you certainly do talk about her an awful lot."
Scott stopped pacing. "What’s that supposed to mean?"
"It means, Scott, that it’s been two days." Chloe uncurled from the bed and rose to her feet. "Two days since the Wolf Council. And in two whole days, I don’t think you’ve gone more than ten minutes without saying her name. Kira this. Kira that. Kira looked at me like I was nothing. Kira thinks she’s so clever."
She folded her arms over her naked chest. "Do you have any idea how exhausting it is, listening to you moon over another woman?"
Scott’s face twisted with disbelief. "Moon over her? Are you out of your mind? I despise her!"
"Do you, though?" Chloe arched a brow. "Because from where I’m sitting, hatred and heartbreak look remarkably similar."
"This is ridiculous." Scott threw his hands up. "You’re the one wearing my mark, Chloe. Right there on your neck for all the world to see. Why on earth would you think I still have feelings for Kira? Besides, I’m worried about your birthright."
Chloe let out a sharp laugh, that had no warmth in it.
"Oh, come off it, Scott." She pushed her hair back and tapped the faint scar on the side of her throat. "You and I both know this thing means nothing. It’s a fake. My father told you to fake a mate bond with me because it suited his little scheme, and we did it. That’s all this ever was."
Scott’s jaw tightened.
"So don’t stand there waving your precious mark at me like it’s some grand declaration of love," Chloe went on. "We’re not real mates. That mark on my neck is worth about as much as the paper my father’s documents are printed on. Which is to say, nothing at all."
For a moment Scott just stared at her, breathing hard. Then he seemed to catch himself, and he dragged a hand down his face and let out a long breath, trying for calm.
"Look," he said, softening his tone with visible effort. "This isn’t the time for us to be at each other’s throats, alright? We shouldn’t be fighting ourselves. We should be fighting her. Kira is the enemy here. She’s the one trying to snatch Moonfang out from under us. If we start turning on each other now, we’ve already lost."
It was a reasonable thing to say.
Chloe looked at him, standing there red-faced and desperate, still practically vibrating with fury over a woman who’d brushed him off in a car park.
He’s still in love with her.
But he had chosen power over whatever went on between them. And Chloe knew Scott. She knew, deep down, that for him this had never truly been about her, or even about Kira.
It had always been about the seat. The alpha seat. Scott wanted to rule Moonfang more than he wanted air, and he’d climb over anyone to get there.
If Scott still carried a flame for Kira, then all it would take was one promise, and he might flip on them without a second’s hesitation. He might help Kira claim the pack, all for the chance that she’d hand him the alpha title as thanks.
Chloe wasn’t about to gamble her future on the loyalty of a lovesick fool.
"You’re right," she said sweetly, and watched the relief bloom across his face. "We shouldn’t fight each other."
"Exactly." Scott nodded, glad she’d finally seen sense. "So we’re agreed. We stand together, and we—"
"So I’ll be fighting for my alpha seat alone."
Scott blinked. "What?"
"You heard me." Chloe gave him a small, cool smile. "I’m done, Scott. We’re finished. Whatever this was, this fake little relationship of ours, it has served it’s purpose, and now its over. Consider yourself dumped."
Scott’s mouth fell open. "You’re... you’re breaking up with me? Chloe, but your Dad..."
"My Dad is not even thinking about you at the moment." She picked up her robe, shrugged it on and tied it around her. "I’ll advise you to stay out of this."
And with that, she strolled out of the room, leaving Scott standing there in the middle of the room, staring after her like a man who’d just been slapped with a wet fish, his mouth opening and closing without a single word coming out.
***
Far away, in a quiet stretch of nowhere, a sleek black car rolled to a slow stop on an empty road. A few inches ahead of it sat another car, engine idling, waiting.
The door of the first car opened, and Valerie stepped out. Her eyes darted left, then right, sweeping the empty road as though she half expected something to come lunging out of the shadows at her.
Her heels crunched on the loose gravel as she made her way forward, and though the evening was cool, a thin sheen of sweat had gathered at her hairline.
She approached the parked car and stopped beside the driver’s window. For a moment nothing happened. Then, slowly, the tinted glass rolled down a few inches.
"What is it you want?" came a voice from within.
Valerie licked her dry lips. "I’ve been doing a lot of digging lately," she said. "A lot of research. And I’ve come to believe that you and I could be of use to one another."
There was a pause.
"State your mission."
Valerie drew her phone from her coat pocket. Her fingers trembled slightly as she tapped the screen, then turned it around so the person inside could see.
It was a photograph of a bright-eyed young woman with a mane of ginger hair.
"Jessica Ashfang. I believe you know her. I want her gone," Valerie said, and her voice hardened as she said it. "Make her disappear quietly, with nothing that can ever be traced back to me. Do that, and I’ll give you every scrap of information you could possibly want."
The silence that followed stretched long and thin. Valerie’s heart thudded against her ribs while whoever sat behind that dark glass considered her offer.
At last, the voice spoke again. "If you can keep me updated on the whereabouts of the King and Queen," it said, "then consider it done."
Valerie opened her mouth, but she never got the chance to reply.
The window rolled smoothly back up, sealing the stranger away behind black glass. The engine roared to life, and the car pulled off down the empty road, tyres kicking up a swirling cloud of dust.
Valerie stood alone on the roadside, watching the red taillights shrink into the distance until they vanished entirely, and the dust settled slowly back down around her feet.