Chapter 79: Chapter 79
Fleur closed the distance between them, her steps slowing as she approached his towering, dark silhouette.
Up close, the sight of him cut through her like a jagged blade. The absolute majesty and terrifying charisma that usually radiated from Christian Wayne had vanished.
Before her stood an Alpha completely stripped of his pride—lost, broken, and dangerously unmoored. His broad shoulders slumped beneath the weight of an invisible crush, his bespoke suit was rumpled, and his jawline, usually set in stone, was etched with a raw, bleeding despair.
Panic flickered in her chest. She scanned the shifting human crowd, desperately searching for his beta, his elite guards, or anyone from his pack security.
There was no one. The great Alpha was utterly unprotected, standardizing himself as a target for the countless enemies who would kill for a taste of his blood.
Anger flared hot and sharp through her veins, a defensive instinct she couldn’t suppress. How dare he be this reckless? Was the terrifying wolf king truly this insane, wandering through a human city entirely unguarded and out of his mind on liquor?
Fleur clenched her fists, her nails biting deep into her palms to stop herself from grabbing him and shaking some sanity into him.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Fleur snapped, her voice dropping into a harsh, fierce scold as she stopped dead behind him.
Christian turned abruptly, his massive frame shifting with a heavy, uncoordinated lurch. His expression fractured with a shock so profound it was as if he were staring at a ghost. He blinked slowly, trying to clear his alcohol-induced, blurry vision.
When his eyes finally locked onto hers, Fleur’s breath caught in a soundless gasp. The fierce, golden dominance that usually burned in his irises had drowned in a bottomless well of agony. His gaze was dark, hollow, and filled with a devastating sorrow that calloused her soul.
"Are you real?" he rasped, his voice a low, gravelly murmur that sounded completely undone.
Fleur forced a defensive roll of her eyes, huffing in bitter irritation to mask how deeply his broken tone shook her.
"Yes, Christian, I am real. Flesh and blood. Now, will you enlighten me as to why the formidable Alpha Wayne is standing alone in the dark like a tragic specter?"
"Why do you care?" Christian mumbled sullenly. He turned his back on her again, the rejection stinging worse than the cold wind, and hoisted a silver hip flask to his lips, swallowing another burning draft.
"Of course I don’t care," Fleur retorted awkwardly, her voice tight, feeling exposed and hyper-aware of her own racing pulse. "I was merely passing by... and I happened to spot you. Consider it a basic courtesy to ensure you weren’t dying in a ditch."
"Fine. You’ve checked. Now leave me the hell alone," he growled, a dangerous, sub-zero coldness bleeding into his tone.
Fleur stood frozen, stunned by the sheer vitriol of his dismissal.
A bitter realization settled into her chest like lead—he had gotten bored. The thrill of the chase was over, and he no longer wanted her. And here she was, a pathetic fool, risking everything just to fret over a heartless beast.
Swallowing the thick, agonizing lump of humiliation rising in her throat, she felt the hot threat of tears prick behind her eyelids. Before she could betray herself and cry in front of him, she spun on her heel, desperate to run far, far away from his suffocating presence.
"Why did you do it?" Christian’s roar shattered the night air before she could even take a step.
"Excuse me?!" Fleur turned back, her voice snapping like a whip, half-convinced her ears were playing tricks on her.
Christian’s eyes, bloodshot and wild with a volatile mix of fury and soul-deep pain, pinned her to the spot. His lips thinned into a dangerous line before they trembled with a primal, snarling rage.
"How could you agree to marry someone else?" he growled, the low vibration of his voice rattling the air between them.
Fleur furrowed her brow, her mind scrambling through her anger until the truth clicked. The media. The stunt Raphael had pulled earlier—Christian had seen it. The whole world had seen it.
"That is none of your business, Christian!"
"I am making it my business because you cannot marry another man!" he seethed.
Before she could draw breath, Christian took a swift, predatory step forward. He closed the distance in a fraction of a second, crowding her space until he was standing a mere inch away.
Fleur’s head spun as the overwhelming heat of his massive body crashed into hers. His shadow completely consumed her, and his intoxicating breath—carrying his signature scent of rain, dark cedar, and the sharp edge of alcohol—fanned across her face.
Her knees turned to water. She gripped the edge of her own sanity, struggling to remain upright before this gorgeous, devastating devil.
"YOU. ARE. MINE! Do you understand me?" Christian growled out every syllable with lethal, unyielding finality, claiming her with the absolute authority of a wolf marking his territory.
Before she could protest, his iron arms snapped around her slim waist. With a sudden, possessive yank, he pulled her flush against his hard, muscular chest, lifting her nearly off her feet.
Fleur swallowed hard, her throat going entirely dry as her heart hammered at rocket speed against his ribs.
The sheer, suffocating weight of his possessiveness was terrifying—but what terrified her more was how desperately her own body wanted to submit to it. But just as she felt herself slipping, a jagged memory cut through the haze: the tabloid photographs. The elegant parties. The stunning supermodel fiancée draped over his arm.
"Bullshit!" Fleur snarled, anger surging back with enough force to drown out her weakness.
She slammed both palms against his rock-solid chest, pushing with every ounce of her strength, but he didn’t even sway. She glared up at him, her eyes flashing with a profound bitterness that cut through the space between them.
"You don’t get to play the possessive husband when you’re out partying with other women, sleeping with them while trying to drag me into your bed!" she spat, her voice laced with pure disdain.
Christian’s brow furrowed, a look of genuine, stark bewilderment crossing his dark features. "What the hell are you talking about?"
Fleur snorted, utterly exhausted by his feigned innocence. He was a womanizer, a man who collected beautiful things and discarded them when he pleased. She felt like the ultimate fool for believing, even for a second, that she mattered to him.
"Oh, stop acting clueless!" she mocked, her voice cracking with the weight of her unshed tears. "I saw the pictures, Christian. You and your beautiful fiancée at the gala, looking absolutely enchanted with each other. I’m sure you growled the exact same possessive lies into her ear!"
Frantic and furious, Fleur began to twist and thrash against him, throwing her entire weight into a desperate attempt to break his vice-like grip. But Christian remained entirely unmoved, his iron embrace unyielding, holding her trapped against the furious, erratic thumping of his heart.
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