Chapter 422: Suspect

Damien’s POV

The slam of the door echoed in my office long after Sofia left.

I stood there, fists clenched, staring at the empty space she had filled just moments ago. Her scent still lingered in the room, sharp and sweet, pulling at every part of me that I tried to keep under control.

My chest heaved. My wolf paced violently inside me, restless and angry.

"She’s lying," I muttered to myself, dragging a hand through my hair. "She still loves me."

I had seen it in her eyes. I felt it in the way her body had trembled against mine. The way she broke when she said this would never happen again. Those weren’t the words of a woman who felt nothing.

No. She was hiding something. Something deeper than just anger or pride.

I turned to the desk and slammed both palms against it, the wood groaning under the force. My eyes burned as Rebecca’s name crossed my mind.

Does Sofia still blame me for her death?

She hasn’t spoken of Rebecca’s death since she returned, but I could feel it in my bones... the way she looked at me, like I was more monster than man. Even in her silence, I knew—she still suspected me of Rebecca’s death.

A growl ripped from my throat as I paced the room. "I didn’t kill her," I snarled into the empty air. "But how the hell do I prove it to you, Sofia?" Every time I tried to pull her closer, she pushed me further away. Every time she let me touch her, she turned around and cut me with her words.

And still—I couldn’t let her go.

My wolf howled her name in my chest, demanding we claim her, mark her, bind her once and for all. But I couldn’t—not while she looked at me with those eyes, full of doubt, full of suspicion.

my desk. There was only one

it up

twice before a

me," I said, my voice low

voice came back, respectful. "No, Alpha. Nothing concrete yet.

the phone. "It’s been two fucking months," I spat. "Two.

trying, Alpha. But whoever covered this up did it

my skull. "Try harder," I snapped. "I don’t care what it takes. Find me answers. Find me proof.

he said quickly.

The line went dead.

the silent phone for a long time, my jaw locked, my

drag the truth into the light—Sofia would stop looking

maybe, she’d let me hold her without walls between

in my

door

a piece of faded fabric, but

was this in the storehouse?" she demanded,

froze, frowning. My brows pulled tight as I

snapped, stepping closer. The cloth trembled in her hands as her voice rose. "Her things—her scent—hidden there like some

idea. Maybe she left it here during her last visit.

she hissed. "That’s

low, controlled, though my fists itched to slam against the desk again.

listening. Her face twisted with something worse than grief. It was jealousy, suspicion, betrayal all tangled

I left three years ago,

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