Camila’s POV
“Julian, you what? You married Vivienne Laurent?”
I heard Austin’s voice from inside the dining room and stopped in my tracks. For a moment, I wondered if I had heard him correctly. My hand was already reaching for the door leading into the largest dining room in the packhouse, where my boyfriend, Julian was having an elaborate dinner with his friends. I had come to surprise him. I had even imagined the look on his face when he saw me. But now I stood outside the door, unable to move.
“Yeah, I did.” Julian’s voice cut through the room.
A few wolves chuckled, followed by the clinking of glasses and low voices. My entire body went cold.
“When?” Austin’s irritated voice rose.
“Yesterday,” Julian answered smugly.
My pulse began to race. Sweat broke out across my back as I stared at the closed door in front of me. Yesterday? He had married someone else yesterday?
“Does Camila know?” another male voice asked.
“Not yet,” Julian replied.
My fingers curled tightly around my wrist.
“But Camila has been your girlfriend for five years, hasn’t she?” Austin pressed. “Weren’t you supposed to marry her? You two have been so close.”
Julian scoffed. “Marry Camila? That wretched wolf-less female? Please.”
My breath caught. I clutched my wrist harder. Me? A wretched wolf-less female? Was that how Julian had seen me all these five years?
“Camila may be gorgeous, and easygoing,” Julian continued, “but she’s just a pauper from a remote pack.”
His words pierced through my chest like daggers.
“But Vivienne is different,” he continued. “She’s a true Luna. The daughter of Alpha Kael Laurent, the most influential and wealthy Alpha in the West.”
“So you’re marrying Vivienne because of her name?” Austin challenged.
I was finding it difficult to breathe. My chest felt painfully tight, but I couldn't bring myself to move. I needed to hear what Julian would say.
“Don’t be naive, Austin,” Julian snapped. “You all know how I’ve been competing with my over ambitious and ruthless half-brother for far too long. To him, I’m just a bastard, and father hasn’t done much to put things right.” His voice hardened. “But with the Laurent family’s connections, all of that is going to stop soon.”
“How do you think Camila will feel when she finds out you married Vivienne instead of her?” an unfamiliar voice asked.
Another scoff came from Julian. “She’ll be pissed, of course. But Camila is easy to control. Eventually, she’ll cool off.” He chuckled. “I’m sure she won’t stop fucking me just because I’m married now.” He laughed, and the others joined him.
I had heard enough. Without thinking, my hand moved to the door knob. I pushed it open and strode into the dining room.
The laughter died instantly. Julian sat at the head of the table, surrounded by his friends, glasses in their hands. The expensive dinner before them was barely touched.
The moment Julian saw me, the smugness vanished from his face.
He froze. So did the others around the table. Every wolf turned toward me.
“Camila?” Julian's face went white. “What are you doing here?”
I walked in slowly, taking in their faces one by one. They all looked pathetic. A few seconds ago, they were laughing and talking as if nothing in the world could touch them. Their expensive tailored suits and the heavy smell of colognes only made them look more ridiculous to me.
I stopped a few feet from them. “So,” I said coldly. “This is where insecure wolves hide to sulk.”
Several men exchanged uneasy glances. Julian shot to his feet so quickly that his chair almost tilted over. “Wait, Camila. I don't know what you’ve heard, but let’s talk about it outside.” He stretched his hands to take my hand. “Don’t overreact here.”
“Don't touch me!” I snatched my hand away before he could touch me. “Why can’t we talk here, Julian?” I asked. “You were so sure of yourself moments ago.”
His face tightened. “Whatever you heard was just men making casual jokes. Don’t make much—”
I didn’t let him finish. My hand shot out and grabbed the nearest plate of pasta from the table. Before anyone could react, I dumped it straight over his head. “Don’t insult my intelligence, you lying bastard!”
The pasta plastered his hair and face. Red sauce dripped down his forehead, over his cheeks and onto his crisp white tailored suit.
Julian stood completely frozen. For a moment, he didn’t even move. He couldn't open his eyes as the sauce ran down his face.
I grabbed the first other thing my hand found—a shot glass filled with whiskey—and splashed it straight into his face. “You fucking asshole!”
He staggered back, wiping blindly at his eyes. My blood was boiling over. I reached toward the table again, my fingers closing around the edge of another object. A table knife. For one wild second, I didn't care what happened next. I grabbed it. I was ready to make him pay for every word I had just heard. But before I could move again a pair of strong arms wrapped around me from behind.
Austin pulled me back, holding me firmly around the waist. “Camila!” he shouted.
I struggled against his grip, my eyes locked on Julian. “You cheating bastard!” I screamed.
Julian grabbed a table napkin and wiped his face. While the rest of his body was covered in whiskey, pasta and sauce.
I reached out again, intending to design his face with the table knife, but Austin held me tighter.
“Let me go!” I yelled.
Austin didn't budge. I hated the way he was pressing me against himself from behind, so I raised my elbow and drove it into his ribs.
“Ahhh!” He released me immediately.
When I turned a bit, I saw him bent over, clutching his ribs. I didn't care.
“Camila, get a grip on yourself!” Julian roared.
I looked down at the table knife still in my hand. Then I dropped it onto the floor. “Have yourself a blissful marriage,” I hissed at Julian, looking him straight in the eyes. “A cheating bastard and a slithering snake belong perfectly together.”
With that, I turned around and walked out of the dining room and out of the Ravencrest packhouse for good. I didn't look back.
***
I didn't realize how badly my body was trembling until I found myself seated inside a private booth at an all-wolf nightclub on the outskirts of Ravencrest.
My hands were shaking. My chest hurt. And no matter how hard I tried to steady my breathing, Julian's words kept replaying in my head.
‘Wretched Wolf-less female...She won't stop fucking me just because I'm married now.’
I squeezed my eyes shut. “Goddess…”
“What would you like?” I opened my eyes to find a waiter standing beside my table.
“Your strongest vodka,” I said.
Vodka had never been my thing. But tonight, I honestly had no idea how strong the strongest vodka could be. I just wanted something strong enough to numb the throbbing pain of betrayal in my chest.
How could he do this to me? After everything we had been through?
Five fucking years. Five years of loving him. Trusting him. Believing he was the man I would spend the rest of my life with. And all this time, I had been nothing but a fool.
The waiter returned with a bottle and a shot glass. Before he could reach for the bottle to serve me, I grabbed it. “Thank you,” I said dismissively.
He hesitated for a second before walking away. I stared at the bottle in my hand, then lifted it to my lips and took a long swallow. The vodka burned all the way down. Good. I needed the burn.
“I thought you actually loved me,” I muttered, staring at the bottle. “I didn't know you were just a fucking leech.”
Another gulp. My eyes burned, but I refused to cry. “I was saving myself for our wedding night…” My throat tightened. “…while you were screwing that slut.”
Another gulp. The alcohol burned, but the pain in my chest was worse. “Fuck you, Julian.” I took another swallow. “Go straight to hell!”
The bottle of vodka was almost half empty when I began noticing the movements around me. Couples were swaying to the loud music, lost in their own little worlds. Some were even making out shamelessly in the middle of the club.
“It's a free world,” I muttered to my bottle. I took another sip.
“Sex is free. Why hord it when you've already been jilted? Screw it.” I pushed myself to my feet and headed toward the restroom.
“Hey, sexy!”
I turned to see a stud approaching me with a confident grin.
“You want to dance with me?”
I pushed him away. “You're not my type,” I snorted before walking off. Truly, he wasn't.
By the time I returned from the restroom, the music seemed even louder. I headed toward my booth, but stopped when I noticed someone seated in a dimly lit corner, nursing a shot of whiskey. My eyes narrowed.
Even in the shadows, there was something unmistakable about him.
He had the same eyes and chin as Julian but he was cut out differently. The broad shoulders. The commanding presence. The way he sat there as though the entire club belonged to him. He wasn't difficult to recognise. Alpha Roman Blackwell
I stared at him for a moment. Then an impulsive idea hit me.
