A long moment passed before the door finally swung open.
Waldo stood there, draped in a bathrobe, his sharp brows furrowed, his expression cold and unreadable. A faint air of displeasure clung to him, his aura exuding an icy indifference as he strode back into the room.
"You don't look too good… Are you feeling unwell?" Martin asked casually as he stepped inside, his tone carrying a hint of concern.
"No."
Waldo's voice was deep, clipped, leaving no room for further inquiry. Without another word, he disappeared into the bathroom.
The sound of running water filled the silence.
A short while later, Waldo emerged, dressed impeccably—crisp white shirt, black and navy tailored suit, and a subtly patterned pale blue tie. The ensemble accentuated his broad shoulders and lean, powerful frame, amplifying his natural air of dominance. There was something untouchable about him, an aura of raw authority that made the very air in the room feel heavier.
"By the way," Martin drawled, leaning lazily against the wall. "When I got here just now, I saw a woman sneaking out of your room… wearing nothing but a bathrobe."
He cast Waldo a sidelong glance, amusement flickering in his eyes.
"Didn't know your tastes had changed. When did your bed partners become so… innocent?"
Martin's smirk deepened as he added, "Speaking of innocent… didn't she remind you, just for a second, of Cecilia?"
At the mention of that name, Waldo's narrowed eyes darkened, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them. His temples twitched slightly, and for a brief moment, the sharp glint of a predator gleamed in his gaze.
Mate.
It wasn't uncommon for him to have one for the sole purpose of release—an outlet, nothing more.
But last night…
Last night, he had not treated that woman as just another mate.
For the first time, he had allowed himself to sink into the illusion—his mind tangled in memories of her, his body entwined with a phantom. He had taken that woman, claiming her through the night, as though she were Cecilia herself.
And that same woman…
Had the audacity to slip away at dawn, thinking she could escape his grasp.
Waldo's jaw tightened, a dangerous glint flashing in his wolf-like eyes.
The image of Regina's fleeting silhouette ignited something cold and merciless within him.
A mate had dared to enter his den and seduce him—only to run?
A low, nearly imperceptible growl rumbled in his throat.
The hunt had begun.
Martin's lips curled into a knowing, mischievous smile, his gaze lingering on Waldo's furrowed brows. The smile deepened as he casually draped his arm over the back of the sofa, almost as if he were savoring the discomfort radiating from Waldo. With a lazy drawl, he asked, "So… you didn't catch up to Cecilia last night?"
His words, clearly intended to provoke, carried an undercurrent of meaning that left something unspoken hanging in the air.
Waldo's eyes narrowed, cold and assessing. "Martin, do you really like Cecilia?"
Martin raised an eyebrow at the question, a flash of something complex flickering in his eyes. He smirked, his lips curling into a wicked grin, and said in a tone far too serious for the casual setting: "Of course."
Waldo's gaze hardened, and without another word, he turned toward the door. "Then come with me to see the Black Rock pack." His voice was distant, almost cold, the indifference on his face tinged with something deeper—something like a resigned frustration.
When had it all started?
When had Martin begun to want everything he liked?
Martin's voice echoed with urgency as he followed Waldo's long, purposeful stride, yelling, "I do like Cecilia! I've always liked her!"
The sound of his shout was swallowed by the long, empty corridor, but Waldo's pace didn't falter.
Did it even matter now? Whether Martin liked Cecilia or not? The issue was no longer about him—it was about Cecilia.
Waldo's eyes, dark as obsidian, flashed with a moment of something unreadable—sadness, perhaps. He stepped into the elevator, his fingers pressing the button for the floor, his hands slipping into his pockets as he stared at the descending numbers, his expression unreadable.
And from that moment on, everyone's fate began to slowly shift, like gears grinding into place. What had begun as a fleeting complication soon became something far more sinister, a web of confusion and entanglement. Each movement, each decision, drawing them deeper into a fog-filled trap, one where no one could see the light.
Waldo's wolf-like presence, once commanding and resolute, now seemed clouded by something darker, something unresolved. The threads of fate were weaving tighter, and no one knew where they would lead…
Regina stepped out of the Teman Grand Hotel, her body trembling violently as she walked along the snow-covered street in the early morning. Everyone cast strange, judgmental glances at her.
In her panic, she hadn't been able to retrieve her clothes. Barefoot, Regina pressed her cold feet into the icy snow, her skin turning bright red from the frost. The freezing sensation seeped deep into her bones, but she clenched her teeth, holding herself back from any signs of weakness, and continued to walk, step by step, enduring the pain in silence.
Tears silently brimmed in her eyes, hot and bitter, rolling down her freezing cheeks and spreading across her lips—sour and painful.
Regina gripped the bathrobe tightly, her feet stinging with each step on the snow. The cold seemed to seep into her very soul, but she didn't care. She allowed the tears to fall, indifferent to the onlookers, her lips clenched as she pressed forward.
Two years.
Two years ago, she was just a carefree high school student. Every day, she studied diligently, aiming to secure the only full scholarship offered by the pack. When she received her wolf and the acceptance letter, she returned home joyfully, but in that moment, her world changed completely.
Her father had accumulated massive gambling debts. The loan sharks had beaten him senseless, splattered paint across the house, and dragged her mother by the hair. Her 12-year-old brother had been tied to a chair.
She would never forget that moment. Those men had told her the cruel truth—that her once loving father, the one who had worked so hard for their family, had borrowed half a million in loans for gambling.
Suddenly, Regina's legs gave out. Her foot slipped, and she collapsed onto the snow.
The cold no longer affected her numbed body. Her red, swollen eyes teared up relentlessly, each drop forming little pools on the snow, melting it with their warmth.
She let the tears dissolve the snow before her, a bitter, trembling smile pulling at her lips. It was a broken, painful smile, one that carried the weight of two years' worth of suffering, frustration, helplessness, and the mourning for the most precious thing she had lost—her innocence.
Two years.
She worked tirelessly every day, taking on multiple jobs, sometimes barely getting three or four hours of sleep. Yet, she never complained. She never did.
She had sacrificed everything for her family, giving it her all every single day. So why was it like this? Why was she being treated this way?
Why?
As memories of the previous night flooded her mind, Regina collapsed in the snow, sobbing uncontrollably. Passersby tried to offer help, but she ignored them, lost in her sorrow.
"Wuuu... wuu..."
Her body trembled with each sob, the cold forgotten as she became consumed with the overwhelming grief. In that moment, she felt as though the sun had abandoned her world, leaving only shadows behind.
Why was the moon goddess treating her this way?
The warm sunlight bathed Regina's trembling figure, casting a sorrowful, desolate shadow that lingered in the depths of Waldo's piercing gaze...
Waldo sat in the car, his eyes sharp and knowing, observing Regina sobbing in the distance through the windshield. His face remained indifferent, betraying no hint of thought or emotion.
The atmosphere inside the car was strange, thick with unspoken tension. Greg, sitting in the driver's seat, stole a glance at Waldo through the rearview mirror. On the surface, Waldo seemed detached, harmless even, but there was a predatory, bloodthirsty energy lurking beneath. Greg couldn't help but wonder—what was the connection between this mate and Waldo?
"Get me her information," Waldo's voice cut through the air, cold and commanding as his gaze shifted away. "Drive."
"Yes, sir," Greg responded, starting the car and smoothly merging into the traffic.
Waldo's eyes, however, lingered briefly on the rearview mirror. He watched as Regina's frail figure grew smaller, her pain palpable in the distance. But as he pulled his gaze away, there was a fleeting, unreadable flicker in his eyes—thoughts too complex to decipher.
Just as Waldo's car disappeared into the flow of traffic, another car, brimming with arrogance, came to a stop beside Regina...