The days turned to nights, and the nights to more days of hell. But one night was different. That night, Lucas had drunk more than usual. His eyes were glassy, his movements unsteady as he slumped in his chair at the head of the long dining table. I could smell the liquor from where I stood at the entrance, holding a fresh jug of wine.
“Nadia!” he barked, his voice slurred. “Bring me more!”
I hurried over, careful not to spill a drop. As I approached, his eyes settled on my face, and something flickered there—something beyond his usual anger. His lips parted, and for a moment, he seemed lost, trapped in a memory.
“Gloria…” he whispered, his voice breaking like fragile glass.
Before I could react, his hand shot out and gripped my arm, pulling me closer. “You came back,” he murmured, his breath hot and sour against my cheek. “I knew you wouldn’t leave me. My angel…”
“No, Alpha—” I tried to pull away, but his strength was overwhelming. He wrapped his arms around me, crushing me against his chest, his lips brushing against my temple. My heart thundered in my chest, panic surging through me. “Please, you’ve got the wrong person. I’m not—”