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Chapter 92: Gifts and Confrontations
Chapter 92: Gifts and Confrontations
(Scarlett’s POV)
Emma had been babbling nonstop since we left the retuarant.
“Seriously, Scarlett, you should’ve seen the way Daniel acted when Sophie confronted him at the last council meeting. It was priceless–like a wolf caught with his tail between his legs!” Her laughter was infectious, and I found myself smiling, though my mind was elsewhere.
I glanced at her, briefly amused by her joy, but my thoughts wandered to other matters. They always did these
days. The strain of running the healing center, dealing with Sarah’s relentless guilt trips, and Grace’s
increasingly desperate antics weighed heavily on me.
Dinner had been satisfying, though short–lived. Emma had pulled out her usual charm and humor as we ate
at our favorite diner, but I felt the churning within me–a familiar mix of anticipation and irritation.
By the time we left and I bid Emma goodbye, the evening was winding down, and all I wanted was to head
home–or so I thought.
When I returned to my treatment center, the whole atmosphere seemed weighed down, thicker with unease.
Claire immediately spotted me as I walked in, looking slightly on edge herself.
“Scarlett.” She rushed towards me, her cheeks flushed as she gestured toward my office. “Sarah Winter has
been waiting for two hours.”
I froze mid–step, a surge of annoyance hitting me. The mere mention of Sarah’s name set my teeth on edge.
“Two hours?” I snapped, my voice sharper than intended.
Claire nodded, biting her lip. “She refuses to leave. I didn’t want to bother you, but…” She trailed off, likely
gauging my rising hostility.
I exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Let me guess. It’s about Grace.”
Claire gave me a pointed look, and I couldn’t help but let out a frustrated laugh. Of course it was about Grace. Everything lately was tied to Grace and her worsening condition.
Just as I was bracing myself to deal with her, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I didn’t have to check to know
who it was.
Roman.
I pressed the answer button. His deep, familiar voice came through before I could even greet him. “I’m
downstairs.”
I blinked, taken aback. “Downstairs? You’re here?”
“Yes,” he said, as casually as though it was the most natural thing in the world. “I have something for you.
Come down.”
I hesitated, glancing toward the direction of my office. The last thing I wanted was for Roman to cross paths with Sarah. Their dynamic–or lack thereof–had always been volatile. And if there was one thing I didn’t need
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right now, it was Roman’s anger boiling over at the sight of Sarah.
“Give me five minutes,” I said quickly, making up my mind.
As Claire looked quizzically at me, I turned on my heel and headed for the exit. Sarah could wait. Whatever Roman wanted to give me seemed far more appealing than yet another drawn–out discussion about Grace My irritation softened slightly at the thought of him waiting outside–always so sure of himself.
When I stepped outside, the crisp evening air greeted me, and so did Roman.
He leaned casually against his sleek car, his powerful frame cloaked in darkness save for the dim glow of the streetlights. His ice–blue eyes, gleaming even in the low light, searched for me the second I appeared. And in his hand, dangling from his long fingers, was something that shimmered faintly.
I couldn’t stop my steps from quickening as he straightened, that familiar hint of a smirk pulling at his lips.
“Roman,” I began, somewhat cautiously, stopping in front of him. “What are you doing here?”
His smirk deepened as he held up the item in his hand. “A belated birthday gift,” he said simply, holding it out
to me.
I froze, my gaze falling onto the object–the unmistakable shape of a moonstone necklace. Not just any necklace. The delicate chain looped around an ancient, radiant gemstone, its soft glow almost mesmerizing. My breath hitched.
“The Luna’s Tear,” I whispered, astonished. I recognized it immediately. Its value wasn’t monetary–it was historical, possibly even mythical. “Where did you…?”
“Shadow Organization auction,” he said with a shrug, stepping closer.
His words sent a ripple of unease and awe through me. Most couldn’t even enter such exclusive auctions, let alone acquire one of its artifacts.
He moved behind me in one fluid motion, brushing my hair aside with his hand. I stiffened as his fingers grazed my neck, yet I didn’t protest when the necklace settled around my collarbone. It rested there like it had always belonged, the cool gemstone radiating an almost palpable warmth.
Roman’s hands lingered on my shoulders as he stood close–too close. “You spent too many birthdays alone after you left Thorn Pack,” he murmured. “Consider this an apology–for making you endure those years
without me.”
His voice softened further, becoming something rare and raw, so unlike his usual calculating tone. “Do you
still blame yourself?”
His question hit me harder than I expected, and I swallowed hard. The urge to deny it rose, but I couldn’t lie-
not to Roman.
“I’m sorry for leaving,” I finally said, my voice steady but heavy with guilt. “I thought it was the only protect you and the pack from the Morrisons.”
His fingers tightened slightly, but his voice remained calm, controlled. “You think running protected me?” I turned my head to look at him, my emerald eyes locking with his piercing blue ones. “You became Alpha King–stronger, more powerful. I didn’t want to be something Morrison could use against you.”
He exhaled through his nose, his expression hard to read. “You were never a weakness, Scarlett. Stop
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punishing yourself for their mistakes.”
Silence fell between us, tense but charged with emotion.
“Will you ever run again?” he asked quietly, his voice just above a whisper.
The weight of his question hit me like a blow, I saw the vulnerability–buried but undeniably there–etched into the sharp lines of his face.
I shook my head firmly, my voice barely audible. “I won’t.”
Roman studied me briefly before pulling me into his arms. His wolf, Logan, stirred beneath the surface, a powerful ripple of energy enveloping us. And for once, I let myself melt against him, allowing his presence to
anchor me.
When I returned to my office, Claire’s reaction to the necklace was instant.
“The Luna’s Tear,” she breathed, eyes wide as she stared at it. “You’re wearing the real thing. How did you-?
I cut her off with a casual shrug. “A gift.”
Claire adjusted her glasses, clearly stunned. “Do you even realize what that necklace symbolizes? It’s legendary. Centered in werewolf history. It… it used to signify-”
“I know,” I interrupted, not wanting the weight of its significance to add to my already frayed emotions. Claire looked like she wanted to ask more questions, but before any could escape, the sound of hurried footsteps filled the air.
Sarah.
“You made her wait too long,” Claire whispered under her breath before rushing off.
I barely had time to collect myself before Sarah stormed toward me. Her gaze immediately flicked to the necklace resting elegantly against my skin, and her reaction was instant–thinly veiled shock and envy. “The Luna’s Tear,” she said sharply, the disbelief–and recognition–in her tone unmistakable.
I straightened, meeting her gaze with icy indifference. Her presence alone was enough to dredge up familiar discomfort, but the way she lingered on the necklace only made it worse.
My lips curved into a cold smile. “You came all this way. Why?” My words felt more like a challenge than a question.
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