Broken Bond: Claimed by My Ex-Husband's Alpha Billionaire Uncle-Chapter 57: Caught By A Police Officer

Charlotte twirled her fingers together, lowering her head as warmth spread across her face. "You’re really spoiling me today, but in return, you have to see me looking all messy like this."

She let out a small sigh, pressing her fingers against her cheeks. "I didn’t even get the chance to take off my makeup. I probably look so ugly right now. I’m sorry ... you must be disgusted."

The moment those words left her lips, the car suddenly jerked to a stop on the side of the road.

Charlotte gasped, gripping the seatbelt as she turned to Damon. "What the—"

"What did you just say?" His voice was calm, but the underlying sharpness sent a shiver down her spine. His hands were still gripping the wheel, knuckles tense. He wasn’t just surprised—he was angry.

Charlotte hesitated, startled by his sudden question. "M-My makeup ... it makes me look older, right?"

"Yes, it does." Damon finally turned to face her, his sharp gray eyes locking onto hers. "But that doesn’t mean I’m disgusted by you. Charlotte, I could never be disgusted by you."

Her breath hitched as he leaned in, closing the space between them. Instinctively, she placed a hand on his chest, stopping him before he got too close.

"You’re only saying that because I don’t usually look like this," she murmured, voice barely above a whisper. "But if I were just an ordinary human, I’d already have wrinkles. My body ... it would be covered in scars—ugly, horrible scars."

Damon exhaled through his nose, his grip on her hand tightening. "I don’t care about that." His voice was firm, unwavering. "Even if your face was covered in wrinkles, even if scars left its mark on you, I’d still look at you the same way. You think I’d ever stop wanting you?"

Charlotte’s lips parted slightly, her heartbeat picking up speed.

Damon tilted his head slightly, his expression softening just a fraction. "Let me ask you something instead, if I were aging like a normal human, would you be disgusted by me?"

She froze, caught off guard by the question.

Damon was already 38 years old, yet he still looked like he was in his mid-twenties thanks to his werewolf genetics. But if he were human ... he’d have fine lines around his eyes, strands of silver in his dark hair.

Charlotte tried to picture it, but instead of being repulsed, her face grew hot.

Older Damon? With a few wrinkles, maybe some gray in his hair? freewebnøvel.com

Why the hell did that make him seem even hotter?

Was she secretly into older men?

Or was it just because it was him?

"I ... I wouldn’t be disgusted by you," Charlotte whispered.

` Damon’s lips curled into a smile, but his gaze held nothing but warmth. "That’s right."

His fingers traced gently along her cheek, his touch grounding her. "And the same goes for me. I will never—and I mean never—be disgusted by you. So don’t you dare apologize to me just because you think you look a little messy."

"In my eyes, you are always beautiful, always sweet, and—" he paused, tilting his head playfully, "—adorable."

Charlotte turned away, her face heating. That last word was completely unnecessary. "I’m almost thirty. How could you possibly think I’m adorable?"

Damon hummed, as if considering. "Because you just are."

He leaned in, his scent wrapping around her like a familiar embrace. His fingers slid along her jaw, tilting her face toward him, and Charlotte’s breath caught in her throat.

"No matter how old you are," he murmured, his voice rich with affection, "you’ll always be my beautiful, sweet, and adorable Charlotte."

Her heart pounded as she let her eyes drift shut, anticipation making her lips part ever so slightly. She braced herself for the warmth of his mouth on hers—

Knock. Knock.

"Sir, you can’t park here."

Charlotte’s eyes flew open, her head jerking toward the window. A police officer stood there, his expression unreadable—except for the faintest hint of amusement flickering in his eyes.

"And please," he continued dryly, flipping open his ticket book, "try to keep the public displays of affection off the road."

Damon let out a sharp exhale through his nose, his jaw clenching as he dragged a hand down his face.

Charlotte, meanwhile, wanted to disappear.

"License and registration, please," the officer added, tapping his pen against the book.

Charlotte ducked her head, letting her long hair fall over her face. What the hell were they thinking?! Kissing on the side of the road?!

But more importantly—why had she closed her eyes and actually expected that kiss?!

The last thing she needed was to see her own face plastered all over the news with some ridiculous headline about her being shameless in public.

"I’m sorry, Officer." Damon smiled, handing over his license and registration with an ease that suggested he felt no shame whatsoever. "My girlfriend was having a panic attack, so I was just trying to calm her down."

Who was having a panic attack?!

Charlotte snapped her gaze toward him, her mouth falling open. Was he seriously using that excuse?!

The officer squinted slightly, trying to peek inside the car, but Damon subtly shifted his position, blocking his line of sight. "She’s quite shy," he added smoothly. "I’d appreciate it if you didn’t stare."

The officer let out a sigh, dropping his gaze to the license in his hands. But the moment he read the name, his brows shot up.

The officer hesitated, his grip tightening around the ticket book. His eyes flicked between the name on the license and Damon’s effortlessly composed face.

Sullivan? As in Damon Sullivan—the billionaire, CEO, and one of the most influential men in the country?

His gaze instinctively drifted toward the woman beside him, curiosity piqued. Who is she?

But before he could get a proper look, Damon subtly shifted again, his broad shoulders acting as an impenetrable barrier. It was almost laughable how effortlessly he shielded her, like a knight blocking an attack with his armor.

Charlotte, meanwhile, was practically melting into her seat, her fingers gripping the hem of her coat. I cannot believe this is happening.

She shot Damon a glare, she whispered, "Did you seriously just say I was having a panic attack?"

Damon leaned slightly, his lips curving into an almost playful smirk. "Would you rather I told him the truth? That you were blushing because I called you adorable?"

Her face burned even hotter. "You—!"

The officer cleared his throat, snapping their attention back to him.

"Listen, Mr. Sullivan," he started, shifting his weight awkwardly. "Stopping like that is a traffic violation. But uh ..." His eyes flicked to the license again. Could he really ticket a man this powerful?

Before he could make a decision, something moved in the shadows.

A low growl rumbled through the air.

Charlotte stiffened. Damon’s expression darkened instantly, his playful smirk vanishing.

The officer, oblivious to the sudden tension, glanced over his shoulder. "What the—"

Then, without warning, something lunged at him from the side of the road.

The rogue werewolf struck fast—too fast for the officer to react.

One moment, he was standing there, flipping through his ticket book, and the next, a massive, snarling beast slammed into him, knocking him to the ground.

"AARGH!" The officer barely had time to scream before the creature’s claws dug into his shoulder, pinning him down. Its yellow eyes gleamed with pure malice, and its jaws parted, saliva dripping onto his face as it aimed for his throat.

Charlotte’s breath hitched. No, no, no!

She didn’t want to see a werewolf killed a human in front of her!

Before the werewolf could finish him off, the sound of a car door swinging open cut through the chaos.

And then—BAM!

The rogue was sent flying.

Damon’s kick landed square against its ribs, the force sending the beast crashing into a streetlight. The metal pole trembled from the impact.

People immediately stopped their vehicles, their headlights illuminating the chaotic scene. Some honked in panic, others fumbled for their phones, recording the incident instead of fleeing.

Charlotte’s heart pounded against her chest as she watched the rogue werewolf shake off the impact, letting out a bloodcurdling snarl. The officer, still on the ground, scrambled backward, his face pale with terror.

"S-stay back!" he stammered, reaching for his gun with shaking hands.

The beast didn’t care. It locked its rabid, glowing eyes onto Damon, its chest heaving as it prepared to attack again.

Damon exhaled sharply, unbuttoning the top of his shirt and rolling up his sleeves as if he were merely about to handle a minor inconvenience. "You just don’t learn, do you?"

With terrifying speed, the rogue lunged.

But Damon was faster.

He sidestepped at the last second, grabbing the beast by the scruff of its neck and slamming it onto the asphalt. The road cracked beneath the impact. The werewolf howled, thrashing wildly, but Damon held firm, his grip unyielding like an iron vice.

"Stay. Down." His voice was eerily calm, but the raw power in his tone made Charlotte shudder.

The rogue snapped its fangs at him in defiance. Big mistake.

Damon drove his knee into its chest, knocking the air out of the beast. Then, with one brutal motion, he grabbed its wrist and twisted—CRACK!

The werewolf howled in agony as its arm bent at an unnatural angle.

The growing crowd gasped. Some screamed.

"Holy shit," someone whispered. "Is he even a human?!"