Diana's POV
The cool morning air invigorated me, a sharp contrast to the stifling warmth of the hidden tunnels I'd traversed. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I was back. Back where I belonged.
I quickly made my way to the Enzo making him to drop the massage which he had been reluctant to. He still resented me, of course, but he knew my worth. "Alpha," he'd reported, his voice devoid of usual deference.
Damien didn't need to know my precise movements, only my presence. My return was a statement, not an announcement.
My boots echoed on the polished floors as I made my way to the Alpha's office.
I didn't knock. My position transcended such petty courtesies. As I entered, the scent hit me – sharp, cloying, her scent. The mate. It clung to everything in the office. A bitter taste filled my mouth.
He'd found her, and then turned out to be The "chosen one" that was going to die either ways.
