Chapter 422: Suspect
Damien’s POV
The slam of the door echoed in my office long after Sofia left.
I stood there, fists clenched, staring at the empty space she had filled just moments ago. Her scent still lingered in the room, sharp and sweet, pulling at every part of me that I tried to keep under control.
My chest heaved. My wolf paced violently inside me, restless and angry.
"She’s lying," I muttered to myself, dragging a hand through my hair. "She still loves me."
I had seen it in her eyes. I felt it in the way her body had trembled against mine. The way she broke when she said this would never happen again. Those weren’t the words of a woman who felt nothing.
No. She was hiding something. Something deeper than just anger or pride.
I turned to the desk and slammed both palms against it, the wood groaning under the force. My eyes burned as Rebecca’s name crossed my mind.
Does Sofia still blame me for her death?
She hasn’t spoken of Rebecca’s death since she returned, but I could feel it in my bones... the way she looked at me, like I was more monster than man. Even in her silence, I knew—she still suspected me of Rebecca’s death.
A growl ripped from my throat as I paced the room. "I didn’t kill her," I snarled into the empty air. "But how the hell do I prove it to you, Sofia?" Every time I tried to pull her closer, she pushed me further away. Every time she let me touch her, she turned around and cut me with her words.
And still—I couldn’t let her go.
My wolf howled her name in my chest, demanding we claim her, mark her, bind her once and for all. But I couldn’t—not while she looked at me with those eyes, full of doubt, full of suspicion.
I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, staring at the phone on my desk. There was only one way to fix this. Only one way to rip out the last wall between me and Sofia.
I picked it up and dialed.
The line rang twice before a voice answered. "Alpha Damien."
"It’s me," I said, my voice low but sharp. "Any update?"
A pause. Then my investigator’s voice came back, respectful. "No, Alpha. Nothing concrete yet. No new leads."
My fingers curled tight around the phone. "It’s been two fucking months," I spat. "Two. And you’re telling me you still don’t have anything?"
"I’m trying, Alpha. But whoever covered this up did it well."
I closed my eyes, my wolf growling in the back of my skull. "Try harder," I snapped. "I don’t care what it takes. Find me answers. Find me proof. I want to know who killed Rebecca. I want every mystery solved. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, Alpha," he said quickly. "I’ll keep digging."
The line went dead.
I stared at the silent phone for a long time, my jaw locked, my breath rough.
Deep down, I knew. If this mystery was solved—if I could drag the truth into the light—Sofia would stop looking at me like a murderer. She would stop running.
And maybe, just maybe, she’d let me hold her without walls between us.
I slammed the phone back down and leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling. My wolf howled in frustration.
Then the door burst open.
Sofia stormed in, her eyes blazing, her chest heaving. In her hands was a piece of faded fabric, but I recognized the initials stitched at the edge before she even spoke.
She held it up like a weapon. "Why the hell was this in the storehouse?" she demanded, her voice shaking with anger.
I froze, frowning. My brows pulled tight as I pushed away from the desk. "What?"
"Don’t act like you don’t know," she snapped, stepping closer. The cloth trembled in her hands as her voice rose. "Her things—her scent—hidden there like some dirty secret. Why?"
I shook my head slowly. "Sofia... I have no idea. Maybe she left it here during her last visit. Years ago. When you were still here. The maids could have stored it away."
Her laugh was sharp, bitter. "Lie," she hissed. "That’s all you do. Lie."
My wolf growled inside me, stung by her words. "I’m not lying," I bit out, my voice low, controlled, though my fists itched to slam against the desk again. "I didn’t even know it was there."
But she wasn’t listening. Her face twisted with something worse than grief. It was jealousy, suspicion, betrayal all tangled into one.
Her next words struck like a blade. "Were you and Rebecca fucking back then?" she spat. "When I left three years ago, did you two have an affair? She came back, didn’t she? You were fucking her... you were fucking my friend."
My chest snapped tight. "What?" I roared, disbelief crashing through me.
She pressed on, her voice trembling with fury. "Why Damien? Tell me the truth, Damien. Did you fuck her?"
The accusation hit harder than claws. My wolf snarled so violently inside me I thought I’d lose control.
I stepped toward her, towering, my voice a guttural growl. "Watch your mouth, Sofia."
But her eyes burned into mine, unflinching, daring me to answer.
For a heartbeat, the air between us felt like it would snap in two.
I stepped closer, my voice breaking out of me like a growl.
"You know me," I said, my hands trembling at my sides. "I’m not a womanizer, Sofia. Why are you doing this to me?"
Her nostrils flared, but she didn’t look away.
"You can accuse me of anything," I continued, my voice hoarse. "Anything but this. But not this." I struck my chest with a clenched fist. "You know I can’t do it. Not with her. Not with anyone. Not when I was yours."
But the look in her eyes told me she didn’t believe me. Or maybe she didn’t want to.
The pain rose in my throat. "I wish I could just stop loving you," I whispered, my voice cracking despite my best effort to sound strong. "I wish I could."
Her lips parted, but no sound came out.
I took one step back. Then another. My wolf howled at me to stay, to grab her, to make her listen, but I forced myself to turn.
Without another word, I walked away. Out of the office. Away from her.
Every step felt like a blade dragging through my chest, but I didn’t stop. Because if I stayed another second, I wasn’t sure whether I’d end up on my knees begging her to believe me—or lose myself completely and spit words in anger I would regret.