I stared at him, stunned.


    “I love Olivia,” he whispered. “I still love her. Very much.”


    Ava’s POV


    I thought I had him figured out. The cold–hearted Alpha who


    tossed aside a loyal woman like Olivia for a bitch and a


    convenient affair. But today… he surprised me.


    “I love her,” he’d said with those pathetic eyes, clinging to the


    leave him behind.


    I crossed my arms and scoffed. “Then exin Chole. Was that


    love too? Or just a convenient way to pass time while Olivia


    worked her ass off to build your future?”


    Ethan stood up slowly, gripping the torn divorce papers like


    they were a badge of honor instead of proof of his failure. His


    voice had a strange calm to it now–almost dangerous.


    “I’m going to buy back everything she sold. Every dress, every


    book, every stupid mug if I have to. I’ll repaint the walls if she


    scratched them in anger. I’ll find the photos she burned. And if I


    can’t, I’ll print them again.”


    “You’re insane,” I snapped. “That’s not love. That’s delusion.”


    “She’ll be my Luna again,” he said quietly, like it was already


    written in the stars. “For the rest of her life”


    I followed him to the door. “Those were just copies, you idiot!


    You think tearing them dys anything? We’ll reprint them


    today. Hell, I’ll send them digitally if I have to.”


    He didn’t look back.


    It took everything in me not to m the door on his arrogant


    back. I stood in the hallway, heart racing, fingers twitching with


    frustration. It was toote. He was toote. All that love he


    imed to have–where was it when Olivia was crying alone in


    their bed? When she had to lie to her parents about why she


    looked so worn?


    Too damnte.


    Ethan’s POV


    I sat on the stone steps outside the old cottage. The same one


    Olivia and I used to visit on full moon nights when we were


    younger, when everything still felt simple. Now, everything felt


    hollow.


    Rain slid down my face, cold and sharp. But the rain in my palms–my hands were burning. My insides, on fire.


    I yed the footage on loop.


    Olivia stood in the center of our old bedroom, calm but distant. The wedding album in her hands trembled for only a second before she dropped it into the metal barrel. The mes red instantly, swallowing years of memories. The photo where I kissed her cheek. The picture where she cried while holding our


    bond mark. Gone in seconds.


    Her hands didn’t even shake.


    I reyed it again.


    My chest ached. I clutched my knees, trying to keep myself from shattering. My wolf hadn’t spoken to me in days. Not a growl. Not a whisper. Nothing. It was like he’d gone dormant, disgusted with the shell I’d be after losing our mate.


    I deserved it.


    I should’ve stopped Chole when she first crossed the line. I should’ve pulled away the moment Olivia’s scent stopped


    lingering on our sheets. But I didn’t. I ignored every warning.


    And now, I was here–watching mes instead of her eyes.


    I called Reed.


    “Get everything Olivia sold of her back,” I ordered.


    “All of it?” he asked.


    “Yes. Everything. Every book, every frame. Even if we need to track down collectors or dig through charity shops.”


    “Understood.”


    “And have a new wedding photo printed. Same size. Same


    frame. Hang it exactly where it used to be.”


    Reed didn’t ask questions. “I’ll take care of it.”


    I hung up.


    The only lead I had was a credit card transaction in Washington. No flight data, no hotel check–in, but a purchase at the mall–hers. I knew her handwriting like I knew my own.


    Someone hid her well. Someone powerful.


    And I had a feeling I knew who.


    “Find out if Alexander Green is in Washington,” I told my team.


    “Track any recent private jetndings without listed owners. I


    want locations, details, movements–everything.”


    They nodded.


    Because Alexander was the only one who could’ve taken Olivia.


    The only one who could guard her that fiercely and make her


    disappear from me.


    But I’d find her.


    I’d burn the world if I had to.


    Olivia’s POV


    The next morning, I dressed simply–gray blouse, ck trousers,


    t leather shoes. No perfume. No distractions. I tucked a small


    tape recorder into my shoulder bag and headed out after


    breakfast, catching a cab straight to the factory.


    The air smelled like iron and hot oil. As I stepped through the


    main gate, a cheerful woman greeted me and led me to the


    office area, where I was met by John Danie–the factory’s


    director. Middle–aged, slightly balding, and energetic in a way


    that made me feel like I was intruding on someone’s family–run


    business, not a branch of one of the country’srgest werewolf


    corporations. Well, he had been working here for 15 years now.


    Chorter 30