"What happened to him?!" Maddison’s voice nearly broke into a shriek, sharp with anger and alarm.

The reaction was immediate. Those who had been halfheartedly standing around Ashley’s makeshift funeral turned at once, their attention snapping away from the so-called mourning. Whatever solemnity had been there vanished as they rushed toward Nathan, abandoning the ceremony without a second thought.

The sudden commotion stirred him.

A low grunt slipped past his lips as his consciousness clawed its way back. His eyes opened slowly, unfocused at first, then sharpened just enough for him to register that something was off.

He caught an unfamiliar scent of humans in the air.

It lingered faintly, enough to catch his attention even through the haze clouding his mind.

But before he could question it... His gaze shifted.

And there it was.

At the edge of his vision, in that pitiful excuse of a mourning shack, nothing more than four thin wooden pillars holding up a roof of woven reeds, hung a black-and-white portrait that belonged to Ashley.

"What... what is that...?" Nathan’s voice came out hoarse, barely more than a rasp.

Anger surged beneath it, but his body couldn’t keep up. Three days without rest, without food, had drained him to the point that even speaking felt like tearing something raw inside his throat. But no one heard him. The moment he stirred, everyone crowded in, voices overlapping, hands reaching, concern spilling over each other until his question was swallowed whole.

"I asked you, what is that?!" he growled, louder this time, the strain cracking through his voice.

He shoved the warriors supporting him aside and forced himself upright. His legs nearly gave out, but he didn’t stop. Staggering forward, he closed the distance to the makeshift memorial, eyes locked on the black-and-white photo like it was something he could burn away just by looking at it.

Then he grabbed it.

And smashed it.

The frame hit the ground hard, splintering beneath his grip as he swept everything else aside, the white flowers, offerings, the flimsy setup collapsing under his fury.

"She’s not dead!" he roared, voice raw, unsteady but filled with something feral. "How dare you, how the hell do you set up a funeral for her?!"

Watching Nathan lose himself over Ashley, Maddison’s jaw tightened, teeth sinking into her lower lip as she fought to keep her expression from twisting into something ugly.

Jealousy burned in her chest, sharp, bitter, and suffocating.

But she swallowed it.

Forced it down until all that remained was something softer, something fragile.

Her eyes shimmered as she let out a small, shaky sob, stepping forward as if wounded by his reaction. "Nate... I’m sorry," she said, voice trembling just enough to sound real. "I was wrong... I just thought... she deserved a proper farewell..."

On the surface, it worked.

Most of them didn’t question it. They never did when it came to her. Heads nodded, murmurs of agreement following her words, as if her explanation alone was enough to smooth everything over.

Even if the so-called mourning hall behind her was nothing more than a rushed, careless setup.

But Nathan wasn’t looking at that.

He wasn’t listening.

His chest heaved violently, breath coming in ragged pulls as fury overtook everything else. His vision blurred red, reason slipping further and further out of reach, until all that remained was raw, unfiltered rage.

"She’s not dead!" Nathan’s voice dropped into a dangerous growl, each word laced with fury. "And no one is allowed to say that again in front of me... or I’ll tear your tongue out."

Without waiting for a response, he turned and stormed off, his presence suffocating as he headed straight for the Alpha suite on the fourth floor. The moment he stepped inside, the door slammed shut with a violent crack, followed by the sharp click of the lock.

It was a clear message that he wanted no one near him.

He wanted space.

And anyone with sense would understand that.

Not long after, Maddison arrived outside his door. Her hand settled on the knob, twisting it instinctively, only to find it locked.

She paused.

For a brief second, something flickered across her expression, irritation, sharp and fleeting, but it vanished just as quickly, smoothed over by something more calculating.

This wasn’t over.

Nathan was grieving, unstable, and vulnerable, and moments like this could be shaped, redirected, and controlled. If she played this right, she could slowly push Ashley out of his mind, replace grief with something else, something that tied him back to her.

Something permanent.

Her fingers lingered on the doorknob for a second longer before she stepped back, already planning her next move.

She had heard it before that grieving men were at their weakest, their defenses worn thin, their judgment clouded by pain.

And she intended to use that.

If she played her part right, acting soft, patient, and understanding, she could slip past Nathan’s guard, ease herself into that fragile space he was trying so desperately to hold together. All she needed was the right moment. One opening.

From there, everything would fall into place.

If she bore his pup, everything would change. His attention, his priorities, and his future, it would all revolve around their pup.

And Ashley?

Ashley would fade.

Reduced to nothing more than a lingering shadow of the past, a memory that would eventually lose its weight.

In the end, there would only be one place left at his side.

Hers.

The thought alone sent a thrill through her.

Maddison’s lips curled into a faint, wicked smile, excitement stirring beneath her calm exterior, sharp, and predatory, almost intoxicating. She felt like this was the beginning of a hunt, the kind that promised a reward worth every calculated step.

In her mind, the outcome was already clear.

Victory.

A future where she stood unquestioned, revered, and untouchable in front of everyone.

Nathan’s anger, his rejection just moments ago, meant nothing in comparison. A temporary setback. Something trivial.

So she let it go.

With a quiet, satisfied breath, she turned away from the locked door, her smile lingering as she walked off, already certain that, in the end, she would be the one who won.

While Nathan shut himself away, drowning in his own turmoil, miles away...

Ashley woke up.

Three days of unconsciousness finally broke as her eyes fluttered open. A faint groan slipped past her lips, the sudden glare of sunlight stabbing into her vision. Instinctively, she tried to lift a hand to shield her face, but her body refused to cooperate as she felt weak and her limbs heavy.

And the moment she moved, pain followed. The pain was enough to drag her fully back into awareness.

"You’re awake? Oh, sorry, is the sunlight too much?"

The voice was male, low, smooth, easy on the ears, with a trace of boyishness that made it sound younger than it first seemed. Not much older than her, if at all.

Ashley blinked slowly, her vision still blurred as she squinted against the light. Then the curtain beside her shifted and was drawn closed, which helped soften the brightness flooding the room.

Gradually, her sight cleared.

And she saw him.