Christina’s POV
"Bullshit." Hudson’s fingers dug into my shoulders. "That’s a bullshit excuse."
"I’m signing the papers tomorrow," I said, not daring to et his eyes. I was afraid I’d regret it, afraid I’d cry.
I didn’t know what hurt more—his grip, sharp enough to bruise, or the look on his face.
The devastation in his eyes cut straight through my wine-dulled senses.
Akira whimpered inside . "Don’t do this. He’s our mate."
I ignored her. At least the alcohol made that easier.
"No." Hudson refused to let go when I tried to shake him off. "You don’t get to end this unilaterally. I get a say. You can’t just toss the ring at and walk away."
I gave up struggling and sank into the sofa, suddenly exhausted.
"Working in Paris is my dream. This is a once-in-a-lifeti opportunity. I can’t—"
"Bullshit!" The word tore out of him, raw and jagged. His usual coolness was gone. He lood over , hands pinning in place, breath hot against my cheeks.
"You could have told , you are my Mate! I’d never have stopped you from buying the company. So what if it’s in Paris? That doesn’t an we’re over. It’s not like you’re moving to fucking Mars. Tell the real reason."
"That IS the reason." I looked away.
I’d miscalculated; one bottle of wine wasn’t enough to face Hudson’s razor-edged gaze or the predatory aura rolling off him. Like the first ti we’d t, I was acutely aware of the difference between us—not just in size, but in sheer presence.
It wasn’t fear of him hurting . It was the instinctive knowledge that he could. The sa primal alarm that had scread at to run when we first t. He’d dialed it back since then, consciously or not, but now his Alpha energy was unleashed again.
He gripped my chin, forcing to et his eyes, dark with storm-lit fury.
"Tell the truth."
"It is the truth."
His sneer was sharp enough to cut. "You think I’m that stupid? You’re ending us over a job you didn’t even bother discussing with ?"
"Would you have approved?"
"That’s not the fucking point. The point is you assud. You made it a fait accompli."
"Would it have changed anything?"
"There you go again." His voice dropped to a growl that made Akira tremble inside . "Assuming. Skipping the whole damn conversation."
He stood abruptly, fists clenched, prowling around the living room like a trapped beast.
Watching him, sothing inside snapped.
The guilt I’d carried all night twisted into anger at him.
"Oh, now you want honesty," I said.
"Is that too much to ask from the woman I planned to spend my life with?" He stopped just long enough to glare, then resud pacing, as if stillness was unbearable.
"Don’t act like you’ve been transparent. Like you’re blaless."
"What did I do?" In one motion, he hauled up, sat, and dumped onto his lap.
I squird. "Let go."
"No." His grip was iron. "Look at . What did I do?"
"Fine. You want the truth?" Trapped against him, I lashed out. "You cut your Paris trip short, missed the wedding fitting, because you flew back to Highrise City with another woman."
"She’s a—"
"Don’t interrupt!" I shoved his chest. "She’s a friend, that’s what you were going to say? Do you kiss all your friends in the street? Don’t bother denying it. Ysolde’s boyfriend saw you. Should I call him?"
Hudson’s jaw tightened. "There were reasons. It was a mistake, but—"
"I don’t care about reasons! I care that you omitted it when I asked, repeatedly,if sothing happened at dinner. You didn’t say a word about her, about the kiss. Sins of omission are deadlier than commission."
His body heat was stifling. I shoved hard, breaking free.
"I can explain," he said.
"Too late. I don’t want to hear it."
Hudson stood slowly. I stepped back, but he didn’t follow. His breathing had evened out, the fury banked. Once again, he was the unshakable Alpha of the Sabreridge pack.
"That’s still not the truth," he said calmly.
"What the hell are you—" I cut myself off. "No. Never mind. It’s over. Pick whatever reason makes you feel better—work, jealousy, I don’t care. I’m done."
Silence. Thick, suffocating.
"Christina, do you love ?" Hudson asked, his voice eerily calm.
I froze, unable to form words. Akira howled in pain inside .
"Do you have any real feelings for at all?" he demanded, stepping closer.
I remained silent, throat tight with unshed tears.
He was questioning my feelings, just like Ysolde had. Why was I being made to feel like the guilty party? I couldn’t stand it.
I grabbed my purse.
"Where are you going?" He blocked the door.
"This is your place. I’ll leave."
"You’re right. It is my place." His voice had gone cold. He released my wrist. "But I’m not heartless enough to throw you out at night. Stay. But by tomorrow afternoon, I want you gone."
He walked past , gripped the doorknob.
Then he was gone.
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