Fated to the Alpha Who Killed Me (by Sherry) novel Chapter 17

Fated to the Alpha Who Killed Me

Chapter 17

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I turned my head slightly, studying his profile in the moonlight. The sharp jawline, the straight nose. I used to look at him with love. Now, I felt nothing but a dull, practical assessment.

He’s handsome, I thought dispassionately. That will help with the book sales.

A dark, absurd thought came to me. Once we were unmarked–once he marked Celeste–I could write a memoir. “The Alpha’s Ex–Wife: How He Met His True Mate.” I could detail the years of coldness and the sudden spark with the college girl. The werewolf romance market loved gossip about high–ranking packs. It would be a bestseller. I could use the royalties as my emotional severance package.

I almost laughed. Daemon shifted, turning his back to me.

“Go to sleep, Violet,” he grumbled.

***

The day of the Centennial was bright and clear. The Blackwood limousine glided through the university

gates.

Daemon sat beside me in a charcoal suit, checking his watch. “We make an appearance, shake hands with the Chancellor, donate the check, and leave,” he muttered. “I have a meeting at three.”

“Of course,” I said. “Quick and painless.”

The car stopped in front of the main auditorium. The driver opened the door.

“You go ahead,” I said, staying in my seat. “I need a moment to fix my lipstick.”

Daemon didn’t argue. He stepped out of the car, adjusting his cufflinks.

I lowered the mirror and watched through the dark, one–way glass. I leaned forward, my body tense. This

was it.

Daemon took two steps toward the red carpet.

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Standing near the entrance, holding a stack of programs, was Celeste. She wore the university’s ceremonial uniform, her honey–blonde hair tied back.

Daemon walked past her.

And then, he froze.

I saw his back stiffen. His head snapped up, nostrils flaring. The invisible thread snapped into existence. The scent–sea breeze and jasmine–must have hit him like a physical blow.

He turned slowly, ignoring the approaching Chancellor. His eyes locked onto Celeste. The crowd, the noise, the responsibilities–it all evaporated.

I watched the recognition flood his face. The shock, the confusion, and then the undeniable, predatory hunger of a wolf finding its mate.

My heart gave a painful lurch, a phantom echo of the betrayal that had killed me once before. But then, it subsided into a cold numbness. It was done.

Daemon took a step toward her, his hand twitching. He forced himself to stop, clenching his fists. With supreme effort, he turned back to the Chancellor, but his gaze lingered on her, heavy and possessive.

I exhaled. I snapped my compact shut.

“Showtime,” I whispered.

I stepped out into the sunlight and walked up the red carpet. I reached Daemon’s side just as he was trying

to compose himself. He was vibrating with tension, his eyes wild.

“Are you alright?” I asked, my voice dripping with false concern. “You look flushed.”

He looked through me. “I’m fine,” he rasped.

We were ushered into the VIP box. Daemon sank into his seat, his eyes immediately scanning the crowd below, hunting for that blonde ponytail. Chancellor Henderson sat beside us, sweating slightly.

“A magnificent turnout, Alpha Blackwood,” Henderson said. “Truly historic.”

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Daemon wasn’t listening. He gripped the armrest, his knuckles white.

Henderson, mistaking Daemon’s distraction for interest, leaned in closer, dropping his voice to a whisper.

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“I noticed you looking at the usher by the door, Alpha,” Henderson murmured with a greasy smile. “Lovely girl. Top of her class. If you’re interested… I can have her contact information sent to your personal phone.”

The air in the box froze.

Henderson chuckled nervously, waiting for approval. Then, he looked up and realized that I–the Luna–was sitting right there, staring at him.

“Oh,” Henderson choked, the blood draining from his face. He looked from Daemon to me, mouth opening and closing. “I… I meant… strictly for… academic…”

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