Christina’s POV
"I understand," I said, then hung up.
The dining table was set perfectly. Cutlery lined up just right, wine chilled, plates still warm with the food I’d made.
I stood there for a mont, then dropped into my chair and tried to eat.
Three bites in, I gave up.
Everything tasted like nothing.
I pushed the food aside, grabbed the remote, and fell onto the couch.
Thirty minutes went by.
I couldn’t rember what I’d watched.
Looking up, I realized Tom and Jerry was playing with no sound.
I let out a quiet laugh. Nothing about this was actually funny.
"He’s with her, isn’t he?" Akira growled in my head.
"We don’t know that," I said back, but I was starting to doubt myself.
I got up, brought Ysolde’s cake from the kitchen, and put it on the coffee table.
I found a small spoon and started eating straight from the box.
The cake was soft and perfectly sweet, the frosting cutting through the richness.
Way better than anything I’d made tonight.
After a few bites, I switched to so new show everyone had been talking about online.
Ten minutes later, I still had no idea what was happening.
The wall clock hit nine.
Hudson still wasn’t here.
"If he’s with that singer, I’m going to destroy both of them," Akira snarled. My wolf’s anger was hotter than mine.
I thought about going upstairs.
But that photo kept popping into my head.
I needed answers.
Without them, I’d never sleep.
I curled up on the couch, listening for sounds at the door.
I must have fallen asleep.
When I woke up, the lights were still on.
Carn was standing next to the couch.
She sighed. "You should go upstairs, Luna Christina."
"I’m fine here," I mumbled.
"At least let check your hand. You burned it earlier making the soup."
I held up my hand. "It’s fine. Doesn’t hurt anymore."
The burn had already healed—one of the few good things about being a werewolf.
Carn swallowed whatever she wanted to say.
She put a blanket over , turned off the TV, dimd the lights, and quietly left.
I dozed again, but not deeply.
The door opened, and I woke up.
The clock showed just past eleven.
Hudson stopped short when he saw on the couch.
"Why are you down here? I told you not to wait up," he said, his voice quieter than usual.
He stepped closer, leaning down to pick up.
I pulled away before he could touch .
He frowned. "What’s wrong?"
I sat up, cold even under the blanket. "Where were you tonight?"
"A friend’s mother had a dical ergency. He just got back to Highrise City and doesn’t know the hospitals here. The ER was packed, so I got her into a private clinic and stayed until she was settled. He helped out once; I owed him."
His voice was steady, not a single hesitation.
If he was lying, he deserved an Oscar.
I nodded slightly. "Is she okay now?"
"Yeah, she’s fine."
He sat next to , pulling into his arms. "I’m sorry. I was supposed to be here."
"It’s okay." I pulled away and stood up. "Where were you last night?"
He paused for half a second. "Dinner. So old friends."
I walked to the coffee table, grabbed my phone, and opened the photo.
I turned the screen toward him.
"Is this you?"
The image was dark and blurry.
He squinted at it, looking confused for a second before it clicked.
"Yeah... that’s ," he finally said, "but it’s not what it looks like. We weren’t actually that close—soone took this from a weird angle."
I stared into his eyes. "So you were with Rowan last night."
"Fuck," Akira growled. "I knew it."
He sat up straighter. "It was dinner. A group dinner. There were other people with us. Soone was sitting next to her, and soone else next to . Whoever took this cut everyone else out."
I looked back at the screen. "You had dinner at a hotel."
"That’s the Atlas Room, on the eighteenth floor of the Sorset Hotel."
"I didn’t know the Atlas Room stayed open until midnight."
"It doesn’t. The photo’s been edited. Makes it look like nightti, but it wasn’t. Regular dinner hours. The restaurant was packed, lights on."
I’d heard of the Atlas Room. Fancy crowds, crystal glasses, marble floors. Expensive, but not shady.
I believed him. About the dinner. About the photo.
But I didn’t believe there wasn’t sothing deeper going on.
Even if nothing happened last night, it didn’t an Rowan wasn’t the one he’d never gotten over.
After all, he hadn’t told about the dinner, and he wouldn’t have brought it up now if I hadn’t asked.
Sothing sharp twisted in my chest.
I fought to keep my voice steady.
"If you have feelings for Rowan, you can just tell . I’d rather know the truth—"
"I don’t," he cut off before I could finish.
Hudson suddenly grabbed my hand tight. "I have no feelings for her. We’re just friends."
He didn’t let go.
Then with his other hand, he quickly pulled out his phone, typing fast.
Before he sent the ssage, I caught part of it.
It was to Beta Dominic.
[Get security footage from Atlas Room bar entrance around 8PM last night.]
He looked at again.
"He’s an old classmate from Wessexia. Like I said, his mother had an ergency tonight. We hadn’t seen each other in years. He ntioned so old friends getting together, and that Rowan would be there. He told ahead of ti. I didn’t care. She’s just soone I used to know, and I didn’t think it was worth ntioning."
His grip hadn’t loosened at all. The inside of my palm was starting to hurt.
"There were six of us total. They were already there when I showed up. That photo... whoever took it must have been standing by the entrance. We were walking in. I wouldn’t have even noticed she was next to if I hadn’t seen that picture. I didn’t bring it up because I didn’t think it mattered. It was just dinner. That’s it. I probably said five words to her the whole ti."
His hand squeezed tighter. My finger bones pressed together uncomfortably.
I didn’t pull away.
Instead, I watched his face.
His shoulders were tight, his breathing fast, his grip desperate, like letting go would make everything worse.
If this was all an act, he’d missed his calling as an actor.
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