Auren’s attention snaps to me, his beautiful features hardening, displaying fine wrinkles, and I realize he’s much older than I first assumed, by at least a decade.
How young was Emily when he seduced her? Because I have no doubt after only a few minutes in Auren’s presence who approached who first. She had said they were together for a while, and I now regret not pushing for a more concrete timeline.
Auren’s lip curls into a delicate sneer. “I wasn’t speaking to you.”
“You should be.” I step forward, placing myself ahead of Emily. “Because this isn’t a negotiation. We’re here to collect Emily’s cat.”
Auren’s laugh rings out, musical and empty. “Emily, control your new pet before he embarrasses himself further.”
Emily says nothing, and the silence stretches between them like a rubber band pulled too tight.
“Remember when you thought you could build a real pack?” Auren asks, dropping to a confidential murmur. “All those plans for a housewith a yard, a place for everyone to belong? Look how that turned out.”
The words hit their target, and Emily’s head lowers. This cruel, beautiful man has her measure, striking her most tender places to wound the most.
“You couldn’t keep the pack together,” Auren continues, twisting the knife. “What makes you think you can take care of Mixie now?”
Emily shrinks with each word, folding in on herself until she barely resembles the woman who faced down an entire security office yesterday. This powerful Alpha, reduced to silence by honey-coated venom, leaves me stunned.
And in this moment, I understand why Emily saved me yesterday. She understands what it’s like to be powerless, to have others minimize your worth and then shove those opinions onto your shoulders.
Auren leans forward, his next words meant for Emily alone. “You know she’s better off with me, Em. You’re gone too much, always working. Always putting others first.”
Emily’s hands clench at her sides, her fingernails digging into her palms. “Mixie’s mine. I adopted her and have the paperwork to prove it.”
Auren blinks, taken aback that she didn’t give in to his logic. The perfect mask slips for a fractionof a second before resettling. “Paperwork? How clinical of you, Em. Relationships aren’t about documents. They’re about connection. If you’d invested in Theo’s business like I told you to, just imagine where we’d be right now.”
Auren’s hand smooths over his flat stomach. “We could have even had a pup by now.”
Disgust fills me at the blatant attempt at manipulation.
One silky thigh makes an appearance through the slit in his robe. “Mixie’s better off here, with the pack. You know I’m right.”
Emily’s throat works as she swallows, her resolve wavering. “I’ll adjust my schedule. I’ve already started bringing work home instead of staying late at the site.”
“For how long?” Auren shakes his head with false concern. “A week? A month? Until the next big project eats up every waking moment? That’s just who you are, Em. The work always comes first.”
The calculated cruelty behind his questions reignites my anger, followed by the overwhelming need to protect this Alpha.
“That’s not how pet ownership works.” I step forward, setting the carrier on the porch with athunkthat draws both their attention. “Emily hasthe adoption papers. Emily paid the medical bills. Under the law, Mixie belongs to her.”
Auren’s eyes narrow, truly seeing me for the first time. “I wasn’t aware Emily had hired legal counsel.”
“She didn’t.” I plant my feet wider. I won’t be swayed by his games. “But pet theft cases are cut and dry in small claims court. You want to keep her cat? Fine. We’ll file the paperwork today.”
His perfect features contort, venom flashing across his face before he catches himself. The transformation happens in an instant, his beautiful mask cracking to reveal the ugly beneath, then smoothing back into practiced charm.
“Small claims court?” Auren’s laugh tinkles. “How pedestrian.”
“The judge won’t care who Mixie follows around the house. They’ll care about who signed the adoption papers and who paid the vet bills.” I arch an eyebrow. “When was the last timeyoutook Mixie to the vet?”
Auren’s fingers tap the doorframe, his nails clicking a rapid rhythm on the wood as he recalculates.
He turns to Emily, ignoring me again. “Em, do you really want to drag our private matters through court? Have strangers paw through ourhistory? Think of the damage it would do to the pack.”
Emily’s head lifts, doubt flickering across her face, then determination. “I’m not part of the pack anymore. You made that clear when you pushed me out.”
“Is this what you’ve been telling people?” Auren’s mouth twists. “Ever the victim, never taking responsibility?—”