“Not to win some woman’s favor.”
My final words carried particular weight: “A truly mature man should understand what responsibility means, what duty means.”
Without another word, I turned and walked away.
Darrell’s POV
I sat there dripping like a fucking idiot.
Water pooled around my chair as I mechanically dabbed at my face with the flimsy coffee shop napkins. My white dress shirt clung to my chest, completely soaked through. My hair hung in wet strands across my forehead.
She said I was pathetically immature.
She’s right. I am a failure.
The photos lay scattered on the table where I’d left them, some darkened by water droplets. That carefully planned confrontation had blown up in my face. Instead of winning her back, I’d only proven her point about how worthless I was.
My hands shook as I gathered the pictures. The coffee shop’s other customers whispered behind their menus, shooting curious glances my way. A barista approached hesitantly with a mop, clearly wanting me gone.
Sable’s right about everything.
The pack was hemorrhaging money. Our suppliers had stopped delivering. Three of our largest clients had terminated contracts this week alone. I’d been so obsessed with chasing after her that I’d ignored the slow-motion disaster destroying everything my family had built.
I ran my wet fingers through my hair, making the mess even worse.
But I can’t give up on her. I won’t.
Standing on unsteady legs, I stuffed the photos back into my briefcase. The other customers quickly averted their eyes. I stumbled toward the exit, leaving wet footprints on the tile floor.
I fumbled for my car keys, my movements still mechanical and disconnected.
Ring ring.
My phone buzzed in my jacket pocket. I pulled it out, squinting at the screen through water-blurred vision. Unknown number. Probably another debt collector or supplier demanding payment.
‘Fuck off, I muttered, letting it ring.
Ring ring.
It started again immediately. Same unknown number.
I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples.
Ring ring.
“Christ.” I slid my thumb across the screen. “Hello?”
“If this is another bill collector, I’m not in the mood-
“Darrell Hawthorne.”
The voice that cut me off was distinctly female. Young-sounding but deliberately lowered, with an odd quality that made it impossible to place.
My spine straightened. “Who is this?”
“I think we can help each other, Mr. Hawthorne.” Each word was carefully measured. “A mutually beneficial arrangement.”
“Look, lady, I don’t know who you are or how you got this number, but-“
“You should remember me.” Her tone carried quiet amusement. “I sent you a text message not too long ago. Sable’s apartment address?”
The words hit me like ice water. I stopped walking, my hand gripping the phone tighter.
The anonymous text. Someone had known I was looking for Sable.
“You…” My voice came out hoarse. “You sent me that address?”
“Among other things.” Her laugh was soft and satisfied. “Those photographs you just showed Sable? I imagine they were quite effective.”
My pupils dilated. The photos. Someone had delivered them to the pack office in an unmarked envelope three days ago. David had brought them to me personally, saying a courier had specifically requested they reach the Alpha.
Inside had been the photos of Caelan with that blonde woman, along with a simple note: “A lovely gift for you. -A friend.”
“You’ve been manipulating everything.” Anger and shock warred in my chest. “Who the hell are you?”
I’m someone who recognizes opportunity when I see it.” Her tone turned businesslike. “And right now, we both have the same problem.”
I started pacing on the sidewalk. “What are you talking about?
“Your pack is facing unprecedented financial difficulties. And I’m here to offer you a solution. Enough funding to save your pack. More than enough, actually. You could come out of this stronger than before.”
My heart hammered against my ribs. I thought about the endless series of failures. Every potential investor had turned me down. Every pack I’d approached for alliance had rejected my proposals.
Why won’t anyone work with us? What did we do wrong?
But the worst failure had been that damned necklace. I’d spent a fortune I didn’t have at that auction, convinced that impressing Rodrigo’s daughter would secure an alliance with the Crawford pack.
Then I’d discovered his daughter was Sable. The engagement gift had become a humiliating symbol of my desperation.
That purchase had pushed us over the financial cliff. The debt from that single night had made everything else impossible.
I’m drowning. The pack is drowning.
The mysterious woman’s offer hung in the air like a lifeline thrown to a drowning man.
I fell silent for several seconds, weighing my options. There weren’t many left.
“What do you want in exchange?”
“Something very simple.” Her voice turned silky. “Help me separate Sable from Caelan.”
I stopped pacing.
“Why?” Suspicion crept into my tone. “What do you have against them?”
“That’s not your concern.” Her voice cooled slightly. “You only need to know that our interests align.”
“I would provide you with information. Opportunities to create… misunderstandings between them.” I could hear the smile in her voice. “Nothing too dramatic. Just enough to plant seeds of doubt.”
My mind raced. I started pacing back and forth on the sidewalk, my instincts screaming that this was too easy.
“That’s it? You don’t want to use me to hurt Sable, do you?”
My voice sharpened. “I can help you break them up, but I absolutely will not let Sable get hurt!”
“That’s my bottom line. If your plan involves harming her in any way, I’d rather let my pack go bankrupt than cooperate!”
Silence stretched across the line for several heartbeats. Then came a soft laugh.
“Of course not. Hurting her wouldn’t serve our interests. Our goal is simply to separate them.”
“Just one requirement. Her voice turned deadly serious. “Complete discretion. This conversation never happened. Our arrangement remains absolutely secret.”
I thought about Sable’s resolute figure walking away from the coffee shop. The disappointment in my pack members’ eyes during recent meetings.
“I need time to think about this,” I finally said.
“Three days.” Her tone brooked no argument. “But I’ll provide a small advance as a gesture of good faith.”
“What kind of advance?
“Check your bank account in ten minutes.”
The line went dead.
I stared at my phone, heart racing. This felt like making a deal with the devil. But what choice did I have?
Ring.
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