Chapter 2

Adrienne POV:

I pushed open the heavy mahogany door.

Instantly, the roaring laughter inside the VIP lounge died away.

The dim room reeked of cheap alcohol, heavy perfume, and pungent werewolf pheromones. Nearly a dozen well-dressed pack members sat or stood around, their eyes snapping toward the door.

I stood at the boundary of light and shadow. My face was completely devoid of emotion, deliberately keeping my eyes unfocused and dull, as if I had heard absolutely nothing.

A fleeting trace of panic flashed across Imanol's eyes.

Seeing my blank stare and noticing I wasn't wearing any healing runes on my ears, he stood up and strode toward me.

Instantly masking his guilt, he put on a sickeningly affectionate and gentle expression as if I were his most precious treasure, speaking with extreme patience and tenderness.

"Adrienne, is the examination over? What did the healer say?"

I stared at his moving lips, pretending to struggle with lip-reading for several seconds.

Since losing my hearing three years ago, the inability to hear my own voice had gradually stripped away my habit of speaking. To everyone in the pack, I was a complete deaf-mute who communicated solely through sign language.

Raising my hands, I signed back to him with practiced, silent gestures: [It's still the same. I can't hear anything.]

Imanol's tense shoulders completely relaxed. The sheer hypocrisy of his tender facade made my stomach churn with violent nausea.

Before I could sign another word, a sickeningly sweet voice floated from the hallway behind me.

"Oh, how lively..."

Carisa stood under the warm hallway light, wearing a revealing burgundy silk slip dress that clung to her curves, blatantly exuding the cloyingly sweet scent of an Omega.

She leaned lazily against the doorframe, her gaze locked onto Imanol with a provocative, meaningful smirk.

Imanol looked visibly guilty. Seeing that I didn't even turn my head at the sound of her voice, he became absolutely certain I was completely deaf.

He lowered his voice, tension lacing his tone. "Why did you come over? Didn't I tell you to stay in the next room?"

Carisa just giggled, swaying her hips as she walked past me into the room. "I missed you, Alpha. What are you afraid of? She's a defective cripple who can't even pick up mind-link frequencies. She can't hear a thing."

A warrior nearby chuckled softly. "Damn, I almost forgot she's a complete deaf-mute. Scared me to death."

"Exactly. I thought we were busted for a second..."

They didn't hold back at all, their voices dripping with blatant, vicious mockery.

My fingers curled at my sides, my nails digging so fiercely into my palms that sharp pain shot up my arms.

Every single word pierced my eardrums like a poisoned needle.

I could hear them.

I could hear every single disgusting syllable perfectly clearly.

Seeing my lack of reaction, Carisa's smile widened.

She deliberately raised her voice, stepping right in front of me.

"Isn't that right, Adrienne? You can't hear a thing, can you? You poor, pathetic cripple, it's a shame that car crash three years ago didn't just take your miserable life."

"Enough!" Imanol interrupted sharply, lowering his voice. He glanced down at me nervously, afraid I might somehow sense something from her aggressive posture.

But Carisa completely ignored his anger. Instead, she laughed even harder.

She stepped even closer, her eyes locked onto Imanol, but her voice was loud enough for the entire room to hear. "Alpha, are you afraid she'll find out I'm back? Relax. Even if I call her a worthless bitch right to her face, she wouldn't even—"

Smack!

Without a single second of hesitation, I raised my hand and slapped Carisa across the face with all my strength!

The entire lounge plunged into a dead, suffocating silence.

Five bright red finger marks instantly swelled on Carisa's pale cheek. She widened her eyes in disbelief, clutching her burning face. It took her a long moment to process it. "You... you dared to hit me?!"

She shrieked and raised her hand to slap me back. I grabbed her wrist in an iron grip, and without missing a beat, swung my other hand, delivering a heavier backhanded slap.

Smack!