Chapter 6

Edward's POV

I sat in my office at three in the morning, staring at the empty glass in my hand. The whiskey was gone, but the burning in my chest remained. The bottle beside me was nearly empty, I'd been drinking since Charles left this afternoon.

How the hell had things gotten so fucked up?

Three weeks ago, my life had been perfect. Eleanor and I were happy, our pack was thriving, and I'd thought I had everything a man could want. Now I was trapped between two women, satisfying neither and destroying everything I'd worked to build.

"You made promises," I reminded myself, thinking back to our wedding day. I'd sworn to Eleanor that she would be my only mate, that I'd reject any fated bond if it ever came. I'd meant every goddamn word.

I slammed the glass down so hard it cracked. The sound echoed through the empty office.

"Fuck!" I growled, sweeping the broken glass off my desk. It scattered across the floor, glittering like my shattered life.

But every time I touched my wife now, Zephyx pulled back, whimpering and pacing restlessly in my mind. My wolf wanted Claire with a desperation that was eating me alive from the inside out.

The worst part? I could see the exact moment Eleanor realized I was pulling away. The devastation in her eyes when I couldn't get hard for her last week, my body betraying me even as I tried desperately to want her the way I used to. The way she'd stopped reaching for me casually throughout the day. She was protecting herself, and I didn't fucking blame her.

A soft knock on my office door interrupted my breakdown. "Come in."

Eleanor appeared in the doorway, still dressed in the dark blue dress. Her red hair was slightly mussed, and I could see the exhaustion in her eyes. Even heartbroken and tired, she was still the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, surprised. She should have gone home hours ago.

"I couldn't go home," she said, taking in the shattered glass without comment. "I've been sitting in my office thinking about what Charles said today. About us." She gestured at the empty whiskey bottle. "Looks like you've been doing the same."

I shook my head. "Too much thinking."

She came over and sat down, "Edward, this has to stop. You're drinking yourself to death."

For a moment, it felt like old times, just the two of us talking through problems together. Except this problem was tearing us apart.

"I've been thinking too," she said, "About what Charles said today."

My stomach clenched. "Eleanor—"

"No, let me talk." She held up a hand, and something in her tone made me shut up immediately. "I need you to make a choice, Edward. Right now. Tonight."

"What?"

"Choose." Her eyes were hard. "Me or her. Your wife or your fated mate. You can't have both."

My mouth went dry. "Eleanor, it's not that simple—"

"Yes, it is." She leaned forward, her voice gaining strength. "It's exactly that simple. Either you reject the mate bond with Claire and commit to our marriage, or you claim her and let me go. But this? This torture for all three of us? It ends tonight."

"I need time to think—"

"Seven years wasn't enough time?" she snapped, her composure cracking. "Seven years of marriage, seven years of promises, and you need MORE time to decide if I'm worth keeping?"

"That's not what I meant!"

"Then what DID you mean?" She stood up, her whole body vibrating with fury. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you're trying to figure out how to keep us both. How to have your perfect wife AND your sexy fated mate."

"Eleanor, please—"

"Answer me!" she screamed, "Right fucking now! Choose!"

I opened my mouth, but no words came out. Because the truth was, I couldn't choose. I couldn't give up either of them. I needed them both, and that made me a selfish bastard.

The silence stretched between us like a chasm.

Something died in Eleanor's eyes. I watched it happen, watched the fight go out of her as she stared at my face.

"I see," she whispered, her voice suddenly calm and empty. "You can't even say my name, can you? Can't even pretend to choose me."

"Eleanor, that's not—"

"Don't." She backed toward the door, shaking her head. "Don't make this worse by lying to me. I've been living with your lies for three weeks."

"Please, just let me explain—"

"There's nothing to explain." Her voice was dead now, all emotion drained out of it. "You've made your choice by not making one. I understand."

She turned and walked away, leaving me alone with my cowardice.

"Eleanor, wait!" I called after her, but she didn't stop. I heard her footsteps on the stairs, heard our bedroom door close with a quiet click that sounded like a death knell.

I threw the bottle across the room.

"FUCK!" I roared. "FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!"

I spent the rest of the night pacing my office, trying to figure out what the hell to do. By dawn, my head was pounding and my throat was raw from yelling at myself.

I called Charles just after sunrise.

"Alpha Charles? It's Edward. We need to talk."

The conversation was brief and brutal. By the end of it, I'd agreed to bring Claire into our pack within forty-eight hours. She would live in our home.

"One more thing," Charles said before hanging up. "Hurt my daughter, and council or no council, I'll tear your throat out myself."

I called Claire next, my hands shaking.

"It's time," I said when she answered. "Pack your things."

The soft sob of relief on the other end should have made me happy. Instead, I felt nothing but hollow acceptance.

Later, I pulled into my driveway with Claire beside me in the passenger seat. She was nervous, fidgeting with her seatbelt and glancing at the house like it might bite her.

"It's going to be okay," I told her, though I wasn't sure I believed it myself.

The front door was unlocked, which was normal. What wasn't normal was the silence. Usually, Eleanor would have heard the car and come to greet us, or at least to see what was happening.

"Eleanor?" I called out as we entered. "I'm home."

No answer.

Claire stayed close behind me as I walked through the house. The living room looked normal. The kitchen was clean, dishes put away.

But something felt wrong.

I took the stairs two at a time, Claire trailing behind me. Our bedroom door was open, and when I stepped inside, my heart stopped.

Eleanor's dresser was half-empty. Her jewelry box was gone. The framed photo of us from our honeymoon was missing from the nightstand.

I yanked open the closet door. Her side was mostly bare, just a few old dresses and some work clothes left behind. All her favorite things were gone.

"Edward?" Claire's voice was small behind me. "What's wrong?"

I couldn't answer. A cold dread settled in my stomach.