As the last car carrying Jake, Samantha, and Charlie disappeared into the night, I waved, a faint smile playing on my lips despite the heavy feeling churning within me. Two hours had melted away in conversation, a welcome break from the swirling thoughts plaguing me. Yet, even in the middle of the laughter and shared stories, a knot of unease remained in my chest. I stole another glance down the hallway where Nicholas disappeared earlier. The familiar desire to go back to the cabin, my temporary haven, tugged at me. But a heavy But before I could act on it, Layla appeared in the doorway, her brow furrowed in concern. "Where are you going, Florence?" I forced a smile, swallowing the lump forming in my throat. "Just back to the cabin," I offered, already turning towards the door. Layla's eyes widened, blocking my path. "Back to the cabin? Are you crazy? You can't leave without Nicholas's permission. You did it one time the other day and let’s say the Alpha was a little annoy

Florence's POV The movie screen bathed us in a warm glow, popcorn kernels raining down on our laps. We sprawled on Nicholas's velvety couch, watching a random comedy movie. Earlier, I had been reading a book in his bedroom when he appeared at the door, carrying a bowl of popcorn and asking if I wanted to watch a movie. Five days had passed since the incident. Everything seemed to have returned to normal for everyone else, but not for me. I tried talking to Nicholas about returning to the cabin and working again at the flower shop, but he refused. He even accompanied me in discussing my resignation with the owners of the flower shop and Sammy. Honestly, the care he showed was something I appreciated and was happy about, but I was starting to get concerned because I had secrets. I knew that when he learned about it, my heart would shatter into pieces. The revelations I had learned in the past days still lingered in my mind, never leaving for a second, and the heaviness of guilt i

I tried to open my mouth to explain, but before I could, the loud echo of Layla's slap resonated in the air. The force made my head turn to the side, and I stumbled backward. It stung, but it couldn't match the pain in my heart right now. “HOW DARE YOU LIE TO US?! YOU'RE THE ONE WHO KILLED BARON! YOU F*CKING PSYCHO SPY!” she screamed, about to slap me a second time, but Gayle interrupted and pulled her away. “Calm the heck down, Layla,” Gayle scolded. “How could I when the murderer of Baron was with us! How could I when the woman I treated as my sister was lying to all of us from the start!” I raised my head, biting my lip so hard I could taste my blood, trying to stop my tears. I attempted to reach Layla, but Clifford blocked me, his eyes blazing in silent fury. “Don't think about it,” he spat, his hand balled into a fist. “Don’t try.” My mother chimed in with a mocking tone, “So, Alpha, what are you going to do now—” "Leave us," Nicholas said, his voice strained and

The next night….. Nicholas’s POV The ashtray overflowed with cigarette butts, each a testament to the sleepless night I'd just endured. The air was thick with the acrid stench of smoke. Empty whiskey bottles stood on the desk, no use for numbing the pain in my heart. “F*ck” A curse sprang to my lips. This soul-crushing agony was unlike anything I'd ever known. I'd gladly endure a physical wound over this. My wolf, Berion, had remained silent throughout the day, but I'd felt his howl of anguish the moment the truth pierced our ears. One thing was certain: coming to terms with our mate being the very spy we hunted was a struggle we both faced. A harsh rap on the door shattered the silence, snapping me from my thoughts. Before I could even bark an order to enter, the door creaked open, revealing a sight that only added to my frustration. "I'm not in the mood for visitors," I stated curtly, downing another shot of alcohol. Politeness had worn thin. Sarah, Samantha's mothe

Florence's POV I sat against the cold, damp stone, feeling the chill seeping through my clothes. Hunger pangs gnawed at my stomach. It had been seven long days in this place, surviving on a meager meal each day. However, the real challenge wasn't the physical discomfort but the silence that surrounded me. No messages or visits from Nicholas or anyone else, except for the maid—Lena who silently brought my food. The woman didn't even let her eyes land on me. If there is one thing I am grateful for the past seven days here in the jail, it is for the brief 5-minute baths they allowed me three times this week, though it was under the watchful eye of a female guard in a bathroom devoid of a window, ventilation, or even a mirror. Aware that my time here was limited, I couldn't help but wonder about the punishment Nicholas might be contemplating. I silently hoped for a quick death. Leaning against the cold stone wall, all I could do was wish that Nicholas would reconsider whatever pun