Chapter Five

ASHER'S POV

My heart pounded in my chest like a war drum, but it wasn't the battle I was prepared for. I couldn't find Clara. She was gone. The house, the pack—everything felt empty without her. Every step I took through the corridors was heavier than the last. I ran through the pack, calling her name, my throat tight with panic and rage. It felt like the walls were closing in, suffocating me.

Where the hell could she be?

Then my mother appeared, her expression as cold as the air around her. I could see it in her eyes—she knew something.

“She’s gone, Asher,” she said in a low, deliberate tone. “Maybe she ran away. Like a coward.”

My stomach twisted at her words, but I couldn’t deny that the thought had crossed my mind. Could Clara really have betrayed me like this?

“Where is she?” I growled, my voice a warning.

“She left you a letter.”

I snatched the letter from her hand, unable to bear the weight of her gaze as I tore it open. As I read, my world shattered.

Clara’s words burned through me:

"I don’t feel anything for you, Asher. I was sent here by Aleron to steal your pack’s secrets, to distract you while his spies positioned themselves within your ranks. My mission was always about war, about betrayal. And now that I’ve done my part, I’m walking away. You meant nothing to me. You never did. "

My heart cracked into a thousand pieces as her words sank in. Betrayed. Used. I crumpled the letter in my fist, feeling the paper tear under the pressure of my grip. My vision blurred, filled with an uncontrollable rage I hadn’t felt in years. I had trusted her. Loved her. And she had used me.

“I swear,” I growled, through clenched teeth, “she will pay for this.”

I stormed out of the room, my mind a whirlwind of fury. No one—no one—plays with me like that and gets away with it.

ALERON'S POV

The scent of blood and fear thickened the air, the ground soaked in it as I tore through the remaining wolves. My claws shredded their flesh with ease, and the wet crunch of bone filled the silence between their desperate pleas.

"Please, Alpha Aleron!" one begged, his voice cracking with terror. "I didn’t mean to... I only wanted to help my family... please, don’t kill me!"

Another, shaking uncontrollably, fell to his knees. "We thought we were doing the right thing... I swear... just don’t kill us!"

They begged, but their words meant nothing. I had no patience for their remorse. I’d already made my decision.

In a single, swift motion, I yanked the heart from one traitor’s chest, his final scream strangled by the blood pouring from his wound. His body crumpled beneath me, lifeless.

A third wolf crawled, blood pooling beneath him as he struggled to speak. “I—I'm sorry, Aleron... we didn't think—”

I didn’t let him finish. My claws ripped through his ribcage, and his heart followed the same fate as the others, crushed in my grip.

The field was silent now, save for the sound of my wolf’s heavy breaths. I stood above their broken bodies, a grim satisfaction curling in my chest. Their betrayal had cost them everything.

I shifted back to my human form, my body snapping back into its full, hardened shape. I let out a long breath, pulling my clothes on as Beta Cade stepped forward, handing me a shirt without a word. He knew better than to speak when I was in this state.

I dressed, but my mind wasn’t on the dead wolves or the carnage I had left in my wake. No. My thoughts were on her. Clara.

The first time I had laid eyes on her, I had hated her. With every fiber of my being, I despised her. Her bloodline had taken everything from me—my family, my life, my pack. Her father had destroyed everything I loved. And I had made it my mission to make her suffer for it.

But when she escaped… everything changed.

I never should have cared. I never should have let myself think of her as anything more than a pawn in my game. But I did. I realized, far too late, that Clara wasn’t just my enemy’s daughter—she was my mate.

And now, I wanted her back.

I couldn’t stop the anger from bubbling up inside me. The need to make her understand. The need to claim her, to make her mine. I had never been a man to beg, but I would do whatever it took to make her see that she belonged to me.

The war had begun, and there would be no turning back. Clara might have left, but I would make sure she would return.

I would break her if I had to.

And when I was done, she would know her place.