I opened the wardrobe, methodically folding my garments into my travel bag. Deep down, I had gone to see Gideon hoping for reassurance, some fleeting shred of loyalty that might tether me to our bond. But now, every hope crumbled. His heart, I realized bitterly, had long since left me. There was no reason to cling to the shadows of a marriage that had dissolved into nothingness.
I had nearly filled the suitcase when the door slammed open. Gideon stormed in, his nostrils flaring, the heat of his anger radiating through the den. His gaze swept over me without a flicker of notice for my packing.
“Come with me,” he demanded, yanking my arm with the strength of an Alpha.
I wrenched free. “Let me go!”
“Now! Move!” he barked, his voice like a whip.
“Where are you taking me?” I groaned, planting my feet stubbornly.
It was futile—he was stronger, faster. Within moments, he had me in his grip, dragging me toward the waiting moon-lit streets.
“To the medics. You’re going to save her—she’s hurt because of you,” he snapped, his words sharp as fang and claw.
“I didn’t touch her! She fell on her own,” I protested.