Fated To Not Just One But Three novel Chapter 422

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.

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