Chapter 4

Kaine’s pov.

“My lord,”

Oscar, my beta’s voice cut through my sinful thoughts. I didn’t acknowledge him immediately. Instead, I let the moment stretch, my fingers tapping lazily against the polished wood of my desk. Finally, I raised a brow, silently urging him to speak.

“I also found this about Lucien Greythorne.” He said, stepping forward and placing a folded sheet of paper in front of me.

I frowned, picking it up with slow fingers. “And why didn’t you hand me this earlier?” My voice was calm, but there was sharpness beneath it.

Oscar hesitated before clearing his throat. “I was… letting you savor the first discovery before dropping another.”

I exhaled through my nose, shaking my head slightly. He had a habit of thinking he’s clever. It amused me sometimes, tonight, it simply made me impatient. But I let it slide. My gaze dropped to the paper as I unfolded it, scanning the words before me. And then, slowly, a smile curled at the corner of my lips. Interesting!

A low chuckle rumbled in my chest as I leaned back in my chair, fingers brushing over my lower lip. There was a lot going on. Far more than I’d expected.

Lucien Greythorne. The future Alpha of Emerald Forest Pack. A man with a polished name, a privileged title, and an ego that towered over all else. I had known he was reckless and arrogant. But this? This was something else entirely.

I could ruin Lucien with this alone, completely destroy him. But I had no interest in doing so, at least not yet.

No, this wasn’t about politics. It wasn’t about leverage. This was about entertainment, about testing lengths, watching them squirm. Seeing how far a man would go when he had something to lose.

“How valuable do you think a man’s pride is, Oscar?” I mused, still staring at the paper.

My beta shifted slightly, unsure if the question was rhetorical. “Depends on the man,” he answered cautiously.

I hummed in agreement. “And what do you think Lucien would trade to keep this hidden?” I tilted my head, my smile deepening as I traced a single finger over the ink on the page.

Oscar hesitated, then exhaled as a slight smirk played on his face. “Something big, I’d say.”

My fingers resumed their slow, rhythmic tapping against the desk. There was no rush. No need for haste. This was a delicate game, one that required patience.

And I would enjoy every second of it.

***

Celine’s pov.

I needed air.

That was the excuse I gave myself as I stepped into the shopping mall, my fingers curled tightly around the straps of my handbag. The truth? I needed to get away. From the suffocating silence of that house. From Lucien’s cold, dismissive words. I’d wanted I come here alone, but he still insisted on driving me, never giving me a time to myself.

Chatter filled the air, the scent of coffee and perfume mingling as people moved around me, smiling, laughing, living. Couples walked hand in hand, as they whispered intimately to each other. A man reached for his lover’s waist, pulling her closer as he kissed her temple. Another pressed his lips against his woman’s knuckles before twirling her playfully, making her giggle.

A lump formed in my throat. I used to crave love like that. The kind that made you feel seen and cherished. But instead, I was just someone’s wife.

I wandered into a boutique, letting my fingers brush against the smooth fabrics. Silk, satin, lace—delicate things meant to be treasured. I wondered what it would feel like to be treasured.

And then all of a sudden…the bag I had been holding slipped from my grasp, the delicate perfume bottles inside shattering as they hit the polished floor. The scent of roses and vanilla filled the air, strong and overwhelming.

Shocked murmurs rippled around me as sales attendants rushed forward, but their voices barely registered. I bent down, my fingers trembling slightly as I began picking up the broken pieces.

‘How did this fucking bag slip from my hand?’

I kept my head bowed as I reached for the scattered mess. The shattered bottle of perfume had seeped into the floor, releasing a thick, overwhelming scent that only worsened the situation.

Then, suddenly, a pair of shoes stepped into my line of sight—polished black leather. The kind of shoes that belonged to a man who never had to kneel for anything. And yet, he did. I felt him crouch beside me, slow and unhurried, like he had all the time in the world. The air shifted, turning heavier, darker, intoxicating. A scent brushed against my senses…not the artificial fragrance of the shattered bottle, but something deeper, richer…smoke and cedar. Something untamed, dangerous and masculine.

I forced myself to look up, and then I saw him. A sharp inhale came out of my throat. Him? The man from that night?