Page 19

FIFTEEN

CHRISSY

A s Chrissy stood in the middle of the resort grounds with her head against Zev's chest and his strong arms wrapped around her, she breathed him in—that intoxicating scent of sea salt, cedar, and something wild that was uniquely him.

His heart thundered against her ear, strong and steady, while hers felt like it was shattering.

When he'd uttered the word 'mate,' something broke inside her. Chrissy tried to keep her composure and to be strong the way she'd been forced to be for the past year, but her walls crumbled. Tears spilled down her cheeks, hot and unstoppable.

"I don't want to go back," she confessed, her voice cracking. "God, Zev, I don't want to leave you. But I heard them—your people—whispering about me. They were right to worry."

She pulled back just enough to look up at his face.

"Those first few days, I overheard the staff talking when they thought I couldn't hear.

They were afraid I'd bring trouble, that someone like me—tied to powerful men in the entertainment industry—would endanger everything. And they were right all along."

"Chrissy—"

"I won't be responsible for exposing centuries of your pack's secrets." Her fingers clutched at his shirt. "I won't let paparazzi and fans swarm this place, risking everything that makes it wild and beautiful."

Zev's hands framed her face, his thumbs wiping away her tears with a gentleness that belied his strength. "That won't happen. We'll protect our home." He paused for a heart beat. "We'll protect you. The pack will stand by you when I tell them you're my fated mate."

Chrissy shook her head, her dark hair falling across her shoulders. "They don't even know me, Zev. They haven't seen my heart the way you have." Her laugh was brittle. "They just see a human celebrity who's bringing a wolf shifter avalanche down on their heads."

The reality of what she had to do hit her with full force. She needed to be alone, to pull herself together before she faced Marty again. Before she had to pretend that the most beautiful five days of her life hadn't just happened.

"I need to go," she said suddenly, stepping back. "I have to get ready for my flight."

"No." Zev's hand closed around her upper arm, not painfully but with unmistakable authority. "We're not done talking about this."

"Let go of me." The words came out sharper than she'd actually intended.

Zev froze, alarm flashing across his face. His hand dropped away as if she'd burned him.

"Shit—Chrissy, I didn't mean to?—"

But she was already backing away, wrapping her arms around herself. "I just need space. Please."

Before he could say anything else, she turned and ran toward her villa, her bare feet slapping against the smooth stone pathway. The tears came faster now, blurring her vision as she fled from the man who had made her feel truly alive, protected, and cherished.

Sobs racked her body as she burst through her villa door, slamming it behind her. She slid down against it, hugging her knees to her chest.

"Stupid," she whispered fiercely to herself. "So stupid to think I could have this."

Five perfect days. Five days of freedom, of being seen for who she really was, of feeling Zev's touch, and finally understanding what it meant to be worshipped rather than possessed. And now it was ending, just like she should have known it would.

The irony wasn't lost on her—that she'd recorded that song about finding her peace, her home, and her wild heart in Zev's arms, only for it to become the very thing that tore them apart.

She should have known Marty would find a way to monitor even her private creative moments.

That he would exploit even this most intimate expression of her newfound joy.

Chrissy pressed her palm against her mouth, trying to muffle the sound of her breaking heart as the afternoon sun painted golden stripes across the villa floor. In just a few hours, she'd be back in her cage, with only memories of how freedom tasted.

Her sobs subsided into hiccups as a commotion outside her villa door broke through her misery. Raised voices ricocheted off the walls, punctuated by angry exclamations that made her skin prickle. Wiping her swollen eyes with the heel of her palm, she pushed herself up from the floor.

When she pulled the door open, the noise hit her like a physical force.

At least two dozen pack members crowded her porch, their expressions ranging from openly hostile to bitterly disappointed.

She recognized a few faces—the children she'd sung with and what she assumed were their parents, and resort staff who'd smiled at her just yesterday.

A tall woman with silver-streaked black hair thrust her phone in Chrissy's face. "Is this how you repay our hospitality? By exposing our home to the world?"

On the screen, Chrissy saw herself among the ancient ruins, singing the song she'd composed for Zev—their private moment, now viewed by millions.

"That wasn't me," Chrissy protested. "I didn't post that. I would never?—"

"Save your celebrity lies," a middle-aged man cut in. "My daughter follows you online. She showed us as soon as it went live on your official account."

"My account was hacked by my manager's team," Chrissy explained, her voice breaking. "They monitor everything I do. I thought I was just recording something private?—"

"Just like a human," someone muttered from the back. "Coming here like she owns the place, then broadcasting our location to the world."

A younger woman pushed forward. "Do you have any idea what you've done? Decades—centuries of secrecy, blown apart because you wanted social media attention."

Chrissy's cheeks burned with both shame and frustration. "I understand why you're upset, but please believe me—this wasn't intentional. I'm already planning to leave. My manager is sending a plane at six, and I'll be gone before sunset."

The silver-haired woman exchanged glances with the others, her nostrils flaring slightly. "We'll wait right here until you go. Make sure there are no more... accidents."

Staring into their distrustful faces, Chrissy felt a stab of bitter irony. For five days, she'd been free from the prison of scrutiny and judgment—only to face a different kind here, from people who refused to see past the image Marty had created for her.

"Fine," she said, lifting her chin. "Whatever makes you feel better."

She closed the door with deliberate control, though every cell in her body wanted to slam it. Turning the lock with trembling fingers, she leaned against the cool wood and peered through the side window. They were still there, their arms crossed, and their faces set in stone-like determination.

The unfairness of it burned like acid. She'd finally found a place where she felt alive again—where she'd discovered what it meant to be loved for who she really was—and now she was being forced to leave, treated like an outcast by the very people whose Alpha had claimed her as his mate.

Where was Zev now, when she really needed him? Why wasn't he here, standing up for her?

As if summoned by her thoughts, she caught a glimpse of movement at the back of the crowd. Her heart leapt, then plummeted as she realized it wasn't him. Just more pack members, joining the vigil.

"This isn't fair," she whispered to the empty room, hugging herself tightly as she slid down onto a nearby chair. "I didn't do this."

Through the window, she could see the pack members settling in, some sitting on the steps, others standing guard like sentinels. The message was unmistakable. You're not welcome here anymore.

Five days of perfect freedom. Five days of passion, connection, and belonging—gone in an instant because of Marty's ruthless manipulation.

Chrissy brushed away a fresh tear. If Zev truly wanted her, truly believed she was his mate, where was he? Why wasn't he here, fighting for her?

She pulled her knees to her chest in the armchair, her nails digging into the soft flesh of her calves as another sob threatened to break free.

"Perfect," she whispered bitterly. "Always have to be so damn perfect."

Her entire life had been a constant chase after perfection—the perfect daughter for her dad who'd sacrificed everything including his own music career, the perfect student with straight A's through college, and now the perfect pop star with the perfect image that wasn't even hers to control.

And where had it gotten her? Right back where she'd started five days ago—trapped, controlled, and utterly alone.

She dug into her pocket, finding her phone. The screen lit up with notifications—thousands of them. Comments on a video she never meant to share.

"I tried so hard," she choked out, scrolling through the tsunami of messages from fans praising her 'authenticity' in a moment that had been stolen from her. "God, I did everything right, and it's still not enough."

For a few magical days, she'd tasted the life she truly wanted.

Zev had looked at her—really looked at her—and seen past the glossy exterior that Marty had cultivated. He'd touched her with reverence instead of ownership. He'd made her feel worthy just for being herself.

"What a joke," she laughed through her tears, tossing the phone onto the bed. "Fated mates. If he can't even feel how broken I am right now, what's the point?"

Her chest constricted with each ragged breath. All the beautiful moments—their first rain-soaked kiss in the cave, the way his eyes had followed her movements when she'd sung to those children, the tender way he'd washed her body in the shower—were fading like watercolors in the rain.

"Back to square one," she whispered, catching her reflection in the mirror.

Even without the layers of professional makeup, she was still beautiful—full lips, bright green eyes, and curves that had made Zev's eyes darken with hunger.

But beauty hadn't protected her from Marty's control, and it wouldn't save her now.

Just beyond her villa, she could hear the pack's voices rising, arguing among themselves. The words "human" and "risk" floated through the walls like poison.

"I'm never going to live the life I want," she said to her reflection. "Never going to be with who I want. Just back to being Marty's puppet and everyone's performing monkey."

The sob that had been building finally broke free, a raw, animalistic sound that tore through her. She doubled over onto the floor, her hair falling across her face as her shoulders shook. All the pain of the last year seemed to converge with the fresh wound of rejection, leaving her gasping.

Suddenly, a deep, commanding voice cut through the ambient noise outside.

"ENOUGH!"

The single word reverberated with such authority that the villa's windows seemed to vibrate. The voices outside fell silent.

"Move. Now."

Chrissy lifted her head, wiping her swollen eyes. That was Zev—but not the gentle, teasing Zev who'd held her through the night. This was pure Alpha, the voice of a predator who'd found his mate threatened.

"Alpha, we're just ensuring—" a woman's voice began.

"I said MOVE."

Chrissy's breath caught. She stood up, drawn to the window by an invisible thread.

Through the gauzy curtain, she saw Zev cutting through the crowd like a blade, his body radiating power and fury.

His eyes—those mesmerizing blue eyes that had looked at her with such tenderness—now glowed with supernatural intensity.

The pack parted before him, some lowering their gazes submissively. Others looked defiant but stepped back nonetheless.

Chrissy's heart hammered as Zev reached her door. He didn't knock. He didn't need to.

"Chrissy," he called, his voice gentler but still thrumming with that undeniable authority. "Let me in. Please."

The 'please' nearly broke her again. Five days of bliss, shattered in an instant—yet here he was, fighting for her.