Chapter 3

Hayley Thornton POV:

The enforcer's hand closed on empty air. He let out an embarrassed growl, his heavy, foul breath stinking of cheap tobacco right by the elevator doors.

"Hold her down! How dare a dumped, useless Omega fight back?" Jalyn shrieked, her eyes wide with feverish excitement to see me dragged across the floor.

Both security guards lunged forward from either side, their sour sweat filling the narrow space as they backed me up against the cold metal frame of the open elevator.

Down the corridor, dozens of corporate pack employees poked their heads out from behind glass partitions. They watched with cold, mocking smirks, waiting to see the fallen secretary get crushed.

I stared at Jalyn's twisted face, raised the heavy cardboard box high above my head, and slammed it straight down over her skull.

With a deafening crash, thick binders, a heavy metal stapler, and three uncapped bottles of black ink rained down over Jalyn's styled curls. Loose papers buried her head and shoulders.

"My couture dress!" Jalyn let out a bloodcurdling scream, staggering backward under the weight before landing hard on her backside in a puddle of black ink.

The two enforcers froze in their tracks, their mouths hanging open. Neither of them had ever seen a low-ranking Omega assault a high-born alliance bride right inside pack headquarters.

Using that half-second of shock, I stepped over the scattered folders, swung my right arm in a wide arc, and drove my palm with all my strength across Jalyn's clean cheek.

The slap cracked louder than the elevator bell. Five bright red finger marks swelled instantly across her ink-splattered skin.

"You hit me?" Jalyn clutched her face, her voice cracking in hysteria as tears mixed with black ink streaked down her chin.

"I hit a lying rabid dog," I said, looking down at her while brushing dust off my palms as if I had touched garbage.

A collective gasp rippled through the watching employees down the hall, their mocking smirks vanishing into pure shock.

The two guards finally snapped out of their daze and raised their black batons with angry snarls.

I met their eyes without flinching, my voice flat and lethal. "Lay a finger on me, and let's see if Alpha Johnston will take the fall for a public murder of an unarmed ex-employee just to save two disposable guards."

My words hit their survival instincts dead center. Their raised arms stiffened mid-air, and they exchanged hesitant glances, neither willing to be the scapegoat.

I let out a quiet scoff, stepped backward into the waiting elevator, and pressed the button for the underground garage.

The steel doors slid shut, cutting off Jalyn's frantic curses and leaving only the sound of my steady breathing inside the quiet cabin.

Twenty minutes later, I steered my modest black sedan through the wrought-iron gates of Johnston's sprawling Alpha estate in the suburbs.

I pushed the front door open. The sight of the marble foyer—where I had spent six years waiting up for him through endless cold nights—made my stomach turn sour.

I walked briskly up the stairs to the second-floor bedroom. Ignoring the closets full of designer gowns and jewelry he had bought to parade me around at business dinners, I stuffed a few plain shirts I had brought six years ago into a canvas duffel bag.

Stepping over to the vanity, I picked up a silver canister of high-grade Scent Neutralizer and held the nozzle down as I walked around the room.

The icy mist hissed into the air, chemically erasing every trace of my crisp white-lily scent from the sheets and curtains. I refused to leave a single breath of myself in his territory.

Slinging the bag over my shoulder, I walked downstairs to the entryway, pulled the heavy brass house key from my pocket, and tossed it onto the mahogany shoe cabinet.

It landed with a sharp clatter, gouging a tiny white scratch into the polished wood.

I pulled the front door open and stepped out into the biting winter wind. The freezing air cooled my burning cheeks as I walked over to the curbside trash bin by my car.

Pulling out the encrypted work phone stamped with the Apex crest, I dropped it straight into the rotting garbage.

Right then, the hidden private communicator strapped to my left wrist buzzed rapidly, flashing a red encrypted frequency code.

I tapped the accept icon. The roar of a custom V8 engine blasted through the speaker, followed by a fiery, familiar female voice.

It was Giuliana Webb, the spoiled Pack Princess of the prestigious Webb Pack and the only friend I trusted with my life.