Betrayal’s Bite

The cold hospital sheets felt like ice against my skin as consciousness slowly returned. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting harsh shadows across the sterile white walls. My head throbbed with a dull, persistent ache, and when I tried to lift my hand to touch the bandage wrapped around my skull, every muscle in my body screamed in protest.

But I was alive.

The memories crashed over me like a tidal wave—Edwin's hands on Isabella, their passionate kiss on the balcony, the way they'd cornered me in the parking garage. I could still feel the sensation of falling, the crack of my skull against concrete, the warm spread of blood beneath my head as car headlights illuminated my broken body.

Yet here I was, breathing. Thinking. Planning.

A nurse bustled in, her expression brightening when she saw my open eyes. "Oh good, you're awake! You gave everyone quite a scare. Let me get the doctor."

"Wait," I croaked, my voice barely a whisper. "What... what day is it?"

She checked her chart with practiced efficiency. "Tuesday, the fifteenth. You've been unconscious for two days since your accident."

The fifteenth. Seven days before my wedding. Seven days before they'd planned to kill me.

Somehow, impossibly, I'd been given a second chance.

The next few hours passed in a blur of medical examinations and concerned visitors. Edwin arrived first, his face a perfect mask of worry and devotion. He held my hand gently, his thumb stroking across my knuckles in the same tender gesture that had once made my heart flutter.

Now it made my skin crawl.

"My darling," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. "I was so worried when I heard about your fall. The doctors say you hit your head pretty badly."

A fall. Of course that's what they were calling it.

"I don't remember much," I lied, letting my voice waver with just the right amount of confusion. "Everything after the engagement party is... foggy."

Relief flickered across his features so quickly I almost missed it. "Don't worry about that now. The important thing is that you're going to be fine. We're going to be fine."

Isabella arrived an hour later, her eyes red-rimmed with what appeared to be genuine tears. She threw her arms around me with theatrical desperation, sobbing into my shoulder.

"Oh, Xiya! I thought I'd lost my best friend forever!" Her voice broke on the last word, and if I hadn't seen her betrayal with my own eyes, I might have believed her grief was real.

"I'm okay," I whispered, patting her back with mechanical comfort. "I'm here."

But as she pulled away, I caught something in her expression—a flash of calculation behind the tears. She was studying me, watching for signs of what I might remember.

Good. Let her wonder.

Over the next three days, as I recovered in the hospital, I began to formulate my plan. I had seven days to gather evidence, seven days to expose their betrayal, seven days to ensure they could never hurt me again.

But I couldn't do it alone.

I needed an ally. Someone with power, resources, and most importantly, someone who had no love for Edwin Blackthorne.

Leno Vance.

I'd heard Edwin mention him in passing—always with a mixture of respect and irritation that suggested a formidable rival. Leno was the Beta heir to the Vance pack, but unlike most Betas who operated in the shadows of their Alphas, he'd built his own business empire. Edwin had called him "dangerously intelligent" and "too clever for his own good."

Perfect.

I spent my final day in the hospital researching everything I could find about Leno Vance. Corporate filings, business articles, social media profiles—anything that might give me insight into the man I was about to approach.

What I found intrigued me. Unlike Edwin, who flaunted his wealth and status at every opportunity, Leno kept a low profile. His business dealings were shrewd but ethical, his public appearances minimal but impactful. In the few photos I could find, he appeared composed and watchful, with sharp gray eyes that seemed to see everything.

More importantly, I discovered that Edwin's pack and the Vance pack had been engaged in a bitter business rivalry for years, competing for the same lucrative government contracts and prime real estate developments.

Leno had every reason to want Edwin destroyed.

On Friday night, I was finally discharged from the hospital. Edwin offered to take me home, but I declined, claiming I needed some time alone to process everything.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his brow furrowed with apparent concern. "I don't like the idea of you being by yourself so soon after your accident."

"I'll be fine," I assured him, forcing a weak smile. "I just need to rest. Maybe tomorrow we can start planning the final details for the wedding?"

His smile was radiant, all traces of worry melting away. "Of course, my love. Whatever you need."

As soon as he left, I began preparing for the most important performance of my life.

I knew from Edwin's past comments that Leno frequented Crimson, an upscale nightclub downtown. It was ironic—the same place where Edwin and I had met, where our doomed love story had begun, would now be where I started my revenge.

I chose my outfit carefully: a sleek black dress that hugged my curves without being overtly seductive, paired with heels that made me feel powerful. I needed to project confidence and mystery, not desperation.

Crimson pulsed with bass-heavy music and dim red lighting when I arrived. The crowd was a mix of young professionals and pack members, all beautiful people with too much money and too few scruples.

I spotted Leno almost immediately.

He sat in a corner booth, seemingly alone but clearly commanding the attention of everyone around him. He was even more striking in person than in his photos—tall and lean, with dark hair and those penetrating gray eyes I'd seen in pictures. He wore a perfectly tailored black suit that probably cost more than most people's cars, but he wore it with casual indifference.

This was a man who didn't need to prove his power to anyone.

I made my way to the bar, positioning myself where he could see me but not making it obvious I was there for him. I ordered a whiskey—neat, the way Edwin hated—and waited.

It didn't take long.

"You're not Edwin Blackthorne's usual type," a smooth voice said behind me.

I turned slowly, meeting Leno's gaze with carefully practiced surprise. "Excuse me?"

"Most of Edwin's women are... softer. More compliant." His eyes swept over me with clinical assessment. "You look like someone with her own agenda."

I raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of my whiskey. "And you look like someone who makes a lot of assumptions about people he's never met."

A ghost of a smile played at the corners of his mouth. "Leno Vance," he said, extending his hand.

"I know who you are," I replied, but I took his hand anyway. His grip was firm, confident. "Xiya Chen. Soon to be Xiya Blackthorne."

"Congratulations," he said, though his tone suggested he found the idea less than celebratory. "Edwin's a lucky man."

"Is he?" I asked, letting a note of uncertainty creep into my voice.

Leno's eyes sharpened with interest. "Having second thoughts about your fairy tale wedding?"

I set down my glass and looked at him directly. "What would you say if I told you that Edwin Blackthorne isn't the man everyone thinks he is?"

"I'd say I already know that," Leno replied without hesitation. "The question is: what are you planning to do about it?"

The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of several other patrons, and I realized we needed somewhere more private to talk. I finished my drink and headed for the exit, knowing instinctively that he would follow.

The alley behind Crimson was dimly lit and empty, the perfect place for the kind of conversation that could destroy lives. I turned to face Leno as he emerged from the club, his expression unreadable in the shadows.

"You want to bring Edwin down," I said. It wasn't a question.

"And you think you can help me do it," he replied, stepping closer. "The question is why. What did he do to you?"

For a moment, I considered telling him the truth—about the betrayal, the murder attempt, my impossible return from the dead. But that would make me sound insane.

Instead, I chose a different kind of truth.

"He's planning to merge with Stellaris Corporation next month," I said, watching Leno's reaction carefully. "The announcement will come right after our wedding. He thinks it will give him enough leverage to push your family out of the eastern territories entirely."

Leno went very still. "How do you know about Stellaris?"

"Because I pay attention," I said simply. "And because Edwin trusts me enough to discuss his business plans in front of me."

"That merger would cost my family millions," Leno said quietly, his voice carrying a dangerous edge.

"I know." I stepped closer, close enough to see the calculation in his eyes. "But what if I told you there was a way to stop it? What if I told you Edwin has vulnerabilities that no one else knows about?"

Leno studied me for a long moment, and I could practically see him weighing the risks and benefits of whatever alliance I was proposing.

"What do you want in return?" he asked finally.

"Justice," I said simply. "And the chance to make sure Edwin Blackthorne never hurts anyone again."

Another long pause. Then, slowly, Leno extended his hand.

"Partners?" he asked.

I took his hand, feeling the firm grip that sealed our dangerous alliance.

"Partners," I agreed.

As we shook hands in that shadowy alley, I felt something I hadn't experienced since waking up in that hospital bed: hope. Edwin and Isabella thought they'd won, thought they'd destroyed me completely.

They had no idea what was coming.