Mated to My Intended's Enemy novel Chapter 192

Chapter 192: Chapter 192 Blood on the Steering Wheel

Freya

The cold steel of the gun pressed against my ribs as the scent of blood filled my nostrils. Selene growled internally, protective instincts warring with survival sense. This man was injured—the metallic smell growing stronger by the minute.

I started the engine, keeping my voice steady. "Where to?"

"Straight ahead, to Santa Pier," he instructed, his voice tight with what I recognized as pain. "I’ll tell you how to get there."

"No need, I know the way."

The car filled with silence as I drove through the deserted streets. Santa Pier was about thirty minutes away, tucked against the coastline where most packs avoided due to its neutral territory status. I kept my breathing even, my hands steady on the wheel despite Selene’s urge to either attack or flee.

The injured man watched me with increasing curiosity as I navigated the roads without hesitation or error, never missing a turn. My mind raced through possible scenarios—was this a targeted attack on the Shadow Pack? Or merely bad luck? The gun remained pointed at me, but I could smell his blood loss worsening.

"Park under the banyan tree ahead," he finally directed, his voice slightly weaker than before.

"Okay," I replied, pulling smoothly to the curb.

As he prepared to exit, I reached for my bag that he’d taken earlier. Instead of attempting escape, I calmly began searching through it. "I have some first aid supplies here."

He paused, clearly surprised by my offer. Our eyes met briefly—his narrowed with suspicion, mine steady and unafraid. After a moment’s consideration, he declined my help by simply stepping out of the car and disappearing into the darkness.

I didn’t call after him or insist. Some wolves preferred to lick their wounds in private. I simply turned the wheel and drove away, Selene finally relaxing her guard as we put distance between us and the armed stranger.

When I arrived at Elena’s apartment thirty minutes later, she was already looking better, sitting up in bed with an empty bowl of porridge beside her.

"The medicine worked quickly," I observed, setting my bag down.

Elena’s nose wrinkled as I approached. "Why do I smell blood? Freya, are you hurt?" Her wolf senses, though dulled by her fever, were still sharp enough to detect what humans would miss.

"No," I assured her, realizing too late that my bag and phone carried the scent of the injured man’s blood. I’d wiped them down when I first got back in the car, but clearly not well enough to fool another wolf’s senses.

"Just had an... interesting encounter. Nothing to worry about."

Elena looked unconvinced but was too exhausted to press further. I stayed until morning to make sure her fever didn’t return, then headed home to prepare for tomorrow evening’s banquet—the one I’d been dreading since the invitation arrived.

---

The implication was clear—I didn’t look like someone who could afford such a creation. Despite being Luna of Shadow Pack, I’d never cultivated the appearance of wealth that Aurora wore so effortlessly.

"Of course," I replied, stepping back with a polite smile that didn’t reach my eyes. Selene growled at the dismissal, but I kept my composure. "I understand. Could you show me something more... suitable?"

The manager’s expression softened slightly, professional training taking over. "Certainly. What’s the occasion?"

"The Autumn Moon Gathering," I replied. "I need something appropriate for a pack function."

Her eyes widened slightly at the mention of the prestigious event, reassessing me quickly. "Of course. May I ask which pack you’ll be representing?"

Before I could answer, the boutique door opened with a soft chime, and a familiar scent washed over me. My wolf tensed immediately.

"Miss Aurora! We’ve been expecting you," the manager exclaimed, her entire demeanor transforming as she rushed to greet the newcomer. "Your gown is ready for the final fitting."

I turned slowly to see Silvano’s cousin gliding into the store, dressed impeccably as always. Her eyes locked with mine, surprise quickly replaced by that calculating look I’d grown to recognize.

"Freya," she acknowledged with practiced warmth. "What brings you here? Shopping for the gathering?" Her gaze flicked to the purple gown I’d been admiring—her gown, apparently—before returning to my face with barely concealed triumph.