The drive home felt endless.
I didn’t remember the turns, the traffic lights, or even breathing. My hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white, heart thudding like it might burst.
Dad. Arrested. No. It couldn’t be real. Maybe Mom made a mistake.
When I finally pulled into the gravel driveway, the house was dark except for the porch light. I jumped out before the engine fully stopped and ran up the steps, my heartbeat loud in my ears.
“Mom?” I shouted, throwing the front door open. “Mom!”
She was on the couch, hands shaking, face pale and streaked with tears. When she looked up, I saw panic. Her eyes were red, her mouth trembling.
My mother, who never cried, looked broken.
I dropped to my knees in front of her. “What happened? What exactly did they say?”
She gripped my hands tightly. “They said your father stole ten million dollars from one of the Lycan King’s companies. They claim he funneled the money over time. That they have proof—transactions, records, everything.”
I blinked, refusing to believe my ears.. “No, that’s impossible. Dad doesn’t have access to that kind of money. He works in logistics, not finance. He’s not even high enough in the company. Why would he be near those accounts?”
Mom shook her head, tears falling. “I told them that. Begged them to check again. They wouldn’t listen. Said the evidence was solid.”
I paced, trying to think. The arrest couldn’t be a mistake. My father had been set up.
“He’s a scapegoat,” I said. “They needed someone to blame, and he was easy.” Because our family was just an ordinary family with no power or backing to our name.
Mom buried her face in her hands. “What can we do? They’ve taken him to the Lycan holding compound. He’s under Council control now. We can’t get him back unless we pay the ten million. How are we going to get the money?”
I sat beside her, too stunned to cry.
“Did they say who filed the charges?” I asked. “Who signed off on it?”
“They didn’t give names. Just mentioned Ashborne and a Lycan finance inspector.”
Ashborne? Elliot’s pack and ours. One of the packs Gareth Laken controlled.
My stomach twisted. I thought of Gareth. The way he touched me. Kissed me. Did he know? Had he known all along? Did he think it was fun to toy with me? I clenched my fists.
“Mom, I’ll think of a way to get Dad out,” I promised. “We’ll get him lawyers. Investigators. I won’t let him stay inside for long.”
For the first time in a long while, my wolf stirred in fury.
Later, the house went quiet. Mom had gone upstairs, drained. I sat alone on the couch, phone in my lap, head pounding.
Ten million. Like it was something we could just pull out of thin air. But this wasn’t about money. It was about power. And we had none.
The phone buzzed again.
Elliot.
What could he possibly want now?
I stared at the screen, my stomach twisting. I didn’t want to answer. But I did.
“Hello?”
His voice came soft and careful. “Jasmine... I just heard. About your dad.”
I said nothing. I didn’t trust myself to speak without screaming.
“I’m sorry,” he continued gently, “How are you holding up?”
His concerned words and familiar voice pulled at something deep in me. Part of me wanted to spill all my innermost feelings to him. For the longest time, he used to be everything to me. My first love. My best friend. The one who helped me track scents and spar in the field long after everyone else had gone home. We used to laugh together. Plan a future. Then he chose power over me.
The pain hardened me, even as my wolf stirred with hopeful longing.
“I’m not okay,” I said flatly. “But I’m alive.”
He was quiet for a moment. “Can we talk? In person.”
“Why?”
“I have a solution. I’d rather explain it face to face.”
My jaw clenched. “If this is some twisted excuse to—”
“I’m outside,” he said, cutting me off. “I didn’t want to come in unless you said I could.”
My breath caught. I stood and walked to the window, pulling the curtain aside.
There he was, leaning against his car like he hadn’t shattered my life. Hands in his pockets. Suit perfect. His face looked soft. Kind. Almost like the boy I used to know.
My wolf whimpered deep inside. Still drawn to him. Still remembering what we used to be.
But I remembered too. The betrayal. The choice he made.
I stepped outside, arms crossed, face blank.
“What do you want?”
“I want to help,” he said smoothly. “You shouldn’t be dealing with this alone.”
“You already made your choice,” I said. “You’re marrying Isabella Laken. You chose her.”
He looked at me steadily. “I did what I had to. That doesn’t mean I don’t still care.”
I said nothing.
Then he reached into his jacket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. It was a cheque for ten million.
“I can pay for it. All of it.”
I froze. “Ten million?”
He nodded. “Your father walks free. No more fear. No more struggle.”
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